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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..676c4fb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51804 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51804) diff --git a/old/51804-h.zip b/old/51804-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e1e10b0..0000000 --- a/old/51804-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51804-h/51804-h.htm b/old/51804-h/51804-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3a7c829..0000000 --- a/old/51804-h/51804-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5148 +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 Plague of Pythons, by Frederik Pohl. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -/* Footnotes */ - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - -.ph5 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph5 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Plague of Pythons, by Frederik Pohl - -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: Plague of Pythons - -Author: Frederik Pohl - -Release Date: April 19, 2016 [EBook #51804] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAGUE OF PYTHONS *** - - - - -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="396" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="407" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>PLAGUE OF PYTHONS</h1> - -<p>By FREDERIK POHL</p> - -<p>Illustrated by RITTER</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Magazine October and December 1962.<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="325" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>The pythons had entered into Mankind. No man<br /> -knew at what moment he might be Possessed!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Because of the crowd they held Chandler's trial in the all-purpose room -of the high school. It smelled of leather and stale sweat. He walked up -the three steps to the stage, with the bailiff's hand on his elbow, and -took his place at the defendant's table.</p> - -<p>Chandler's lawyer looked at him without emotion. He was appointed by -the court. He was willing to do his job, but his job didn't require him -to like his client. All he said was, "Stand up. The judge is coming in."</p> - -<p>Chandler got to his feet and leaned on the table while the bailiff -chanted his call and the chaplain read some verses from John. He did -not listen. The Bible verse came too late to help him, and besides he -ached.</p> - -<p>When the police arrested him they had not been gentle. There were four -of them. They were from the plant's own security force and carried -no guns. They didn't need any; Chandler had put up no resistance -after the first few moments—that is, he stopped as soon as he could -stop—but the police hadn't stopped. He remembered that very clearly. -He remembered the nightstick across the side of his head that left his -ear squashed and puffy, he remembered the kick in the gut that still -made walking painful. He even remembered the series of blows about the -skull that had knocked him out.</p> - -<p>The bruises along his rib cage and left arm, though, he did not -remember getting. Obviously the police had been mad enough to keep -right on subduing him after he was already unconscious.</p> - -<p>Chandler did not blame them—exactly. He supposed he would have done -the same thing.</p> - -<p>The judge was having a long mumble with the court stenographer -apparently about something which had happened in the Union House the -night before. Chandler knew Judge Ellithorp slightly. He did not -expect to get a fair trial. The previous December the judge himself, -while possessed, had smashed the transmitter of the town's radio -station, which he owned, and set fire to the building it occupied. His -son-in-law had been killed in the fire.</p> - -<p>Laughing, the judge waved the reporter back to his seat and glanced -around the courtroom. His gaze touched Chandler lightly, like the -flick of the hanging strands of cord that precede a railroad tunnel. -The touch carried the same warning. What lay ahead for Chandler was -destruction.</p> - -<p>"Read the charge," ordered Judge Ellithorp. He spoke very loudly. -There were more than six hundred persons in the auditorium; the judge -didn't want any of them to miss a word.</p> - -<p>The bailiff ordered Chandler to stand and informed him that he was -accused of having, on the seventeenth day of June last, committed on -the person of Margaret Flershem, a minor, an act of rape—"Louder!" -ordered the judge testily.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Your Honor," said the bailiff, and inflated his chest. "An Act -of Rape under Threat of Bodily Violence," he cried; "and Did Further -Commit on the Person of Said Margaret Flershem an Act of Aggravated -Assault—"</p> - -<p>Chandler rubbed his aching side, looking at the ceiling. He remembered -the look in Peggy Flershem's eyes as he forced himself on her. She was -only sixteen years old, and at that time he hadn't even known her name.</p> - -<p>The bailiff boomed on: "—and Did Further Commit on that Same -Seventeenth Day of June Last on the Person of Ingovar Porter an Act of -Assault with Intent to Rape, the Foregoing Being a True Bill Handed -Down by the Grand Jury of Sepulpas County in Extraordinary Session -Assembled, the Eighteenth Day of June Last."</p> - -<p>Judge Ellithorp looked satisfied as the bailiff sat down, quite winded. -While the judge hunted through the papers on his desk the crowd in the -auditorium stirred and murmured.</p> - -<p>A child began to cry.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The judge stood up and pounded his gavel. "What is it? What's the -matter with him? You, Dundon!" The court attendant the judge was -looking at hurried over and spoke to the child's mother, then reported -to the judge.</p> - -<p>"I dunno, Your Honor. All he says is something scared him."</p> - -<p>The judge was enraged. "Well, that's just fine! Now we have to take up -the time of all these good people, probably for no reason, and hold up -the business of this court, just because of a child. Bailiff! I want -you to clear this courtroom of all children under—" he hesitated, -calculating voting blocks in his head—"all children under the age -of six. Dr. Palmer, are you there? Well, you better go ahead with -the—prayer." The judge could not make himself say "the exorcism."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, madam," he added to the mother of the crying two-year-old. -"If you have someone to leave the child with, I'll instruct the -attendants to save your place for you." She was also a voter.</p> - -<p>Dr. Palmer rose, very grave, as he was embarrassed. He glared around -the all-purpose room, defying anyone to smile, as he chanted: "Domina -Pythonis, I command you, leave! Leave, Hel! Leave, Heloym! Leave, -Sother and Thetragrammaton, leave, all unclean ones! I command you! -In the name of God, in all of His manifestations!" He sat down again, -still very grave. He knew that he did not make nearly as fine a showing -as Father Lon, with his resonant <i>in nomina Jesu Christi et Sancti -Ubaldi</i> and his censer, but the post of exorcist was filled in strict -rotation, one month to a denomination, ever since the troubles started. -Dr. Palmer was a Unitarian. Exorcisms had not been in the curriculum at -the seminary and he had been forced to invent his own.</p> - -<p>Chandler's lawyer tapped him on the shoulder. "Last chance to change -your mind," he said.</p> - -<p>"No. I'm not guilty, and that's the way I want to plead."</p> - -<p>The lawyer shrugged and stood up, waiting for the judge to notice him.</p> - -<p>Chandler, for the first time, allowed himself to meet the eyes of the -crowd.</p> - -<p>He studied the jury first. He knew some of them casually—it was not a -big enough town to command a jury of total strangers for any defendant, -and Chandler had lived there most of his life. He recognized Pop -Matheson, old and very stiff, who ran the railroad station cigar stand. -Two of the other men were familiar as faces passed in the street. The -forewoman, though, was a stranger. She sat there very composed and -frowning, and all he knew about her was that she wore funny hats. -Yesterday's had been red roses when she was selected from the panel; -today's was, of all things, a stuffed bird.</p> - -<p>He did not think that any of them were possessed. He was not so sure of -the audience.</p> - -<p>He saw girls he had dated in high school, long before he met Margot; -men he worked with at the plant. They all glanced at him, but he was -not sure who was looking out through some of those familiar eyes. The -visitors reliably watched all large gatherings, at least momentarily; -it would be surprising if none of them were here.</p> - -<p>"All right, how do you plead," said Judge Ellithorp at last.</p> - -<p>Chandler's lawyer straightened up. "Not guilty, Your Honor, by reason -of temporary pandemic insanity."</p> - -<p>The judge looked pleased. The crowd murmured, but they were -pleased too. They had him dead to rights and it would have been a -disappointment if Chandler had pleaded guilty. They wanted to see -one of the vilest criminals in contemporary human society caught, -exposed, convicted and punished; they did not want to miss a step of -the process. Already in the playground behind the school three deputies -from the sheriff's office were loading their rifles, while the school -janitor chalked lines around the handball court to mark where the crowd -witnessing the execution would be permitted to stand.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The prosecution made its case very quickly. Mrs. Porter testified -that she worked at McKelvey Bros., the antibiotics plant, where the -defendant also worked. Yes, that was him. She had been attracted by the -noise from the culture room last—let's see—"Was it the seventeenth -day of June last?" prompted the prosecutor, and Chandler's attorney -instinctively gathered his muscles to rise, hesitated, glanced at -his client and shrugged. That was right, it was the seventeenth. -Incautiously she went right into the room. She should have known -better, she admitted. She should have called the plant police right -away, but, well, they hadn't had any trouble at the plant, you -know, and—well, she didn't. She was a stupid woman, for all that -she was rather good-looking, and insatiably curious. She had seen -Peggy Flershem on the floor. "She was all <i>blood</i>. And her clothes -were—And she was, I mean her—her body was—" With relentless tact the -prosecutor allowed her to stammer out her observation that the girl had -clearly been raped. And she had seen Chandler laughing and breaking up -the place, throwing racks of cultures through the windows, upsetting -trays. Of course she had crossed herself and tried a quick exorcism but -there was no visible effect; then Chandler had leaped at her. "He was -<i>hateful</i>! He was just <i>foul</i>!" But as he began to attack her the plant -police came, drawn by her screams.</p> - -<p>Chandler's attorney did not question.</p> - -<p>Peggy Flershem's deposition was introduced without objection from the -defense. But she had little to say anyway, having been dazed at first -and unconscious later. The plant police testified to having arrested -Chandler; a doctor described in chaste medical words the derangements -Chandler had worked on Peggy Flershem's virgin anatomy. There was no -question from Chandler's lawyer—and, for that matter, nothing to -question. Chandler did not hope to pretend that he had not ravished and -nearly killed one girl, then done his best to repeat the process on -another. Sitting there as the doctor testified, Chandler was able to -tally every break and bruise against the memory of what his own body -had done. He had been a spectator then, too, as remote from the event -as he was now; but that was why they had him on trial. That was what -they did not believe.</p> - -<p>At twelve-thirty the prosecution rested its case, Judge Ellithorp -looking very pleased. He recessed the court for one hour for lunch, and -the guards took Chandler back to the detention cell in the basement of -the school.</p> - -<p>Two Swiss cheese sandwiches and a wax-paper carton of chocolate -milk were on the desk. They were Chandler's lunch. As they had been -standing, the sandwiches were crusty and the milk lukewarm. He ate them -anyway. He knew what the judge looked pleased about. At one-thirty -Chandler's lawyer would put him on the stand, and no one would pay -very much attention to what he had to say, and the jury would be out -at most twenty minutes, and the verdict would be guilty. The judge was -pleased because he would be able to pronounce sentence no later than -four o'clock, no matter what. They had formed the habit of holding the -executions at sundown. As, at that time of year, sundown was after -seven, it would all go very well—for everyone but Chandler. For -Chandler it would be the end.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">II</p> - -<p>The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was -innocent—in a way, that is—but that many who were guilty (in a way; -as guilty as he himself, at any rate) were free and honored citizens. -Chandler himself was a widower because his own wife had been murdered. -He had seen the murderer leaving the scene of the crime, and the man -he had seen was in the courtroom today, watching Chandler's own trial. -Of the six hundred or so in the court, at least fifty were known to -have taken part in one or more provable acts of murder, rape, arson, -theft, sodomy, vandalism, assault and battery or a dozen other offenses -indictable under the laws of the state. Of course, that could be said -of almost any community in the world in those years; Chandler's was not -unique. What had put Chandler in the dock was not what his body had -been seen to do, but the place in which it had been seen to do it. For -everybody knew that medicine and agriculture were never molested by the -demons.</p> - -<p>Chandler's own lawyer had pointed that out to him the day before the -trial. "If it was anywhere but at the McKelvey plant, all right, but -there's never been any trouble there. You know that. The trouble with -you laymen is you think of lawyers in terms of Perry Mason, right? -Rabbit out of the hat stuff. Well, I can't do that. I can only present -your case, whatever it is, the best way possible. And the best thing -I can do for your case right now is tell you you haven't got one." At -that time the lawyer was still trying to be fair. He was even casting -around for some thought he could use to convince himself that his -client was innocent, though he had frankly admitted as soon as he -introduced himself that he didn't have much hope there.</p> - -<p>Chandler protested that he didn't have to commit rape. He'd been a -widower for a year, but—</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," said the lawyer. "Listen. You can't make an ordinary -claim of possession stick, but what about good old-fashioned insanity?" -Chandler looked puzzled, so the lawyer explained. Wasn't it possible -that Chandler was—consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously, call it -what you will—trying to get revenge for what had happened to his own -wife?</p> - -<p>No, said Chandler, certainly not! But then he had to stop and think. -After all, he had never been possessed before; in fact, he had always -retained a certain skepticism about "possession"—it seemed like such a -convenient way for anyone to do any illicit thing he chose—until the -moment when he looked up to see Peggy Flershem walking into the culture -room with a tray of agar disks, and was astonished to find himself -striking her with the wrench in his hand and ripping at her absurdly -floral-printed slacks. Maybe his case was different. Maybe it wasn't -the sort of possession that struck at random; maybe he was just off his -rocker.</p> - -<p>Margot, his wife, had been cut up cruelly. He had seen his friend, Jack -Souther, leaving his home hurriedly as he approached; and although he -had thought that the stains on his clothes looked queerly like blood, -nothing in that prepared him for what he found in the rumpus room. -It had taken him some time to identify the spread-out dissection on -the floor with his wife Margot.... "No," he told his lawyer, "I was -shaken up, of course. The worst time was the next night, when there -was a knock on the door and I opened it and it was Jack. He'd come -to apologize. I—fell apart; but I got over it. I tell you I was -possessed, that's all."</p> - -<p>"And I tell you that defense will put you right in front of a firing -squad," said his lawyer. "And <i>that's</i> all."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Five or six others had been executed for hoaxing; Chandler was familiar -with the ritual. He even understood it, in a way. The world had gone to -pot in the previous two years. The real enemy was out of reach; when -any citizen might run wild and, when caught, relapse into his own self, -terrified and sick, there was a need to strike back. But the enemy was -invisible. The hoaxers were only whipping boys—but they were the only -targets vengeance had.</p> - -<p>The real enemy had struck the entire world in a single night. One -day the people of the world went about their business in the gloomy -knowledge that they were likely to make mistakes but with, at least, -the comfort that the mistakes would be their own. The next day had -no such comfort. The next day anyone, anywhere, was likely to find -himself seized, possessed, working evil or whimsy without intention and -helplessly.</p> - -<p>Chandler stood up, kicked the balled-up wax paper from his sandwiches -across the floor and swore violently.</p> - -<p>He was beginning to wake from the shock that had gripped him. "Damn -fool," he said to himself. He had no particular reason. Like the -world, he needed a whipping boy too, if only himself. "Damn fool, you -know they're going to shoot you!"</p> - -<p>He stretched and twisted his body violently, alone in the middle of the -room, in silence. He <i>had</i> to wake up. He <i>had</i> to start thinking. In a -quarter of an hour or less the court would reconvene, and from then it -was only a steady, quick slide to the grave.</p> - -<p>It was better to do anything than to do nothing. He examined the -windows of his improvised cell. They were above his head and barred; -standing on the table, he could see feet walking outside, in the paved -play-yard of the school. He discarded the thought of escaping that -way; there was no one to smuggle him a file, and there was no time. -He studied the door to the hall. It was not impossible that when the -guard opened it he could jump him, knock him out, run ... run where? -The room had been a storage place for athletic equipment at the end of -a hall; the hall led only to the stairs and the stairs emerged into the -courtroom. It was quite likely, he thought, that the hall had another -flight of stairs somewhere farther along, or through another room. What -had he spent his taxes on these years, if not for schools designed with -more than one exit in case of fire? But as he had not thought to mark -an escape route when he was brought in, it did him no good.</p> - -<p>The guard, however, had a gun. Chandler lifted up an edge of the table -and tried to shake one of the legs. They did not shake; that part of -his taxes had been well enough spent, he thought wryly. The chair? -Could he smash the chair to get a club, which would give him a weapon -to get the guard's gun?...</p> - -<p>Before he reached the chair the door opened and his lawyer came in.</p> - -<p>"Sorry I'm late," he said briskly. "Well. As your attorney I have to -tell you they've presented a damaging case. As I see it—"</p> - -<p>"What case?" Chandler demanded. "I never denied the acts. What else did -they prove?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, God!" said his lawyer, not quite loudly enough to be insulting. -"Do we have to go over that again? Your claim of possession would make -a defense if it had happened anywhere else. We know that these cases -exist, but we also know that they follow a pattern. Some areas seem to -be immune—medical establishments, pharmaceutical plants among them. So -they proved that all this happened in a pharmaceutical plant. I advise -you to plead guilty."</p> - -<p>Chandler sat down on the edge of the table, controlling himself very -well, he thought. He only asked: "Would that do me any good at all?"</p> - -<p>The lawyer reflected, gazing at the ceiling. "... No. I guess it -wouldn't."</p> - -<p>Chandler nodded. "So what else shall we talk about? Want to compare -notes about where you were and I was the night the President went -possessed?"</p> - -<p>The lawyer was irritated. He kept his mouth shut for a moment until he -thought he could keep from showing it. Outside a vendor was hawking -amulets: "St. Ann beads! Witch knots! Fresh garlic, local grown, best -in town!" The lawyer shook his head.</p> - -<p>"All right," he said, "it's your life. We'll do it your way. Anyway, -time's up; Sergeant Grantz will be banging on the door any minute."</p> - -<p>He zipped up his briefcase. Chandler did not move. "They don't give -us much time anyway," the lawyer added, angry at Chandler and at -hoaxers in general but not willing to say so. "Grantz is a stickler for -promptness."</p> - -<p>Chandler found a crumb of cheese by his hand and absently ate it. The -lawyer watched him and glanced at his watch. "Oh, hell," he said, -picked up his briefcase and kicked the base of the door. "Grantz! -What's the matter with you? You asleep out there?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler was sworn, gave his name, admitted the truth of everything the -previous witnesses had said. The faces were still aimed at him, every -one. He could not read them at all any more, could not tell if they -were friendly or hating, there were too many and they all had eyes. The -jurors sat on their funeral-parlor chairs like cadavers, embalmed and -propped, the dead witnessing a wake for the living. Only the forewoman -in the funny hat showed signs of life, looking alertly at Chandler, -at the judge, at the man next to her, around the auditorium. Maybe it -was a good sign. At least she did not have the frozen in concrete, -guilty-as-hell look of the others.</p> - -<p>His attorney asked him the question he had been waiting for: "Tell -us, in your own words, what happened." Chandler opened his mouth, and -paused. Curiously, he had forgotten what he wanted to say. He had -rehearsed this moment again and again; but all that came out was:</p> - -<p>"I didn't do it. I mean, I did the acts, but I was possessed. That's -all. Others have done worse, under the same circumstances, and been -let off. Just as Fisher was acquitted for murdering the Learnards, as -Draper got off after what he did to the Cline boy. As Jack Souther -over there was let off after he murdered my own wife. They should -be. They couldn't help themselves. Whatever this thing is that takes -control, I know it can't be fought. My God, you can't even <i>try</i> to -fight it!"</p> - -<p>He was not getting through. The faces had not changed. The forewoman -of the jury was now searching systematically through her pocketbook, -taking each item out and examining it, putting it back and taking -out another. But between times she looked at him and at least her -expression wasn't hostile. He said, addressing her:</p> - -<p>"That's all there is to it. It wasn't me running my body. It was -someone else. I swear it before all of you, and before God."</p> - -<p>The prosecutor did not bother to question him.</p> - -<p>Chandler went back to his seat and sat down and watched the next twenty -minutes go by in the wink of an eye, rapid, rapid, they were in a hurry -to shoot him. He could hardly believe that Judge Ellithorp could speak -so fast, the jurymen rise and file out at a gallop, zip, whisk, and -they were back again. Too fast! he cried silently, time had gone into -high gear; but he knew that it was only his imagination. The twenty -minutes had been a full twelve hundred seconds. And then time, as if -to make amends, came to a stop, abrupt, brakes-on. The judge asked the -jury for their verdict and it was an eternity before the forewoman -arose.</p> - -<p>She was beginning to look rather disheveled. Beaming at -Chandler—<i>surely</i> the woman was rather odd, it couldn't be just his -imagination—she fumbled in her pocketbook for the slip of paper with -the verdict. But she wore an expression of suppressed laughter.</p> - -<p>"I <i>knew</i> I had it," she cried triumphantly and waved the slip above -her head. "Now, let's see." She held it before her eyes and squinted. -"Oh, yes. Judge, we the jury, and so forth and so on—"</p> - -<p>She paused to wink at Judge Ellithorp. An uncertain worried murmur -welled up in the auditorium. "All that junk, Judge," she explained, -"anyway, we unanimously—but <i>unanimously</i>, love!—find this son of a -bitch innocent. Why," she giggled, "we think he ought to get a medal, -you know? I tell you what you do, love, you go right over and give him -a big wet kiss and say you're sorry." She kept on talking, but no one -heard. The murmur became a mass scream.</p> - -<p>"Stop, stop her!" bawled the judge, dropping his glasses. "Bailiff!"</p> - -<p>The scream became a word, in many voices chorused: <i>Possessed!</i> And -beyond doubt the woman was. The men around her hurled themselves away, -as from leprosy among them, and then washed back like a lynch mob. She -was giggling as they fell on her. "Got a cigarette? No cigarettes in -this lousy bag—oh." She screamed as they touched her, went limp and -screamed again.</p> - -<p>It was a different note this time, pure hysteria: "I couldn't <i>stop</i>. -Oh, <i>God</i>."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler caught his lawyer by the arm and jerked him away from staring -at the scene. All of a sudden he was alive again. "You, damn it. -Listen! The jury acquitted me, right?"</p> - -<p>The lawyer was startled. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a clear case of—"</p> - -<p>"Be a lawyer, man! You live on technicalities, don't you? Make this one -work for me!"</p> - -<p>The attorney gave him a queer, thoughtful look, hesitated, shrugged and -got to his feet. He had to shout to be heard. "Your honor! I take it my -client is free to go."</p> - -<p>He made almost as much of a stir as the sobbing woman, but he -outshouted the storm. "The jury's verdict is on record. Granted there -was an <i>apparent</i> case of possession. Nevertheless—"</p> - -<p>Judge Ellithorp yelled back: "No nonsense, you! Listen to me, young -man—"</p> - -<p>The lawyer snapped, "Permission to approach the bench."</p> - -<p>"Granted."</p> - -<p>Chandler sat unable to move, watching the brief, stormy conference. -It was painful to be coming back to life. It was agony to hope. At -least, he thought detachedly, his lawyer was fighting for him; the -prosecutor's face was a thundercloud.</p> - -<p>The lawyer came back, with the expression of a man who has won a -victory he did not expect, and did not want. "Your last chance, -Chandler. Change your plea to guilty."</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>"Don't push your luck, boy! The judge has agreed to accept a plea. -They'll throw you out of town, of course. But you'll be alive." -Chandler hesitated. "Make up your mind! The best I can do otherwise is -a mistrial, and that means you'll get convicted by another jury next -week."</p> - -<p>Chandler said, testing his luck: "You're sure they'll keep their end of -the bargain?"</p> - -<p>The lawyer shook his head, his expression that of a man who smells -something unpleasant. "Your honor! I ask you to discharge the jury. My -client wishes to change his plea."</p> - -<p>... In the school's chemistry lab, an hour later, Chandler discovered -that the lawyer had left out one little detail. Outside there was a -sound of motors idling, the police car that would dump him at the -town's limits; inside was a thin, hollow hiss. It was the sound of a -Bunsen burner, and in its blue flame a crudely shaped iron changed -slowly from cherry to orange to glowing straw. It had the shape of a -letter "H".</p> - -<p>"H" for "hoaxer." The mark they were about to put on his forehead would -be with him wherever he went and as long as he lived, which would -probably not be long. "H" for "hoaxer," so that a glance would show -that he had been convicted of the worst offense of all.</p> - -<p>No one spoke to him as the sheriff's man took the iron out of the fire, -but three husky policemen held his arms while he screamed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">III</p> - -<p>The pain was still burning when Chandler awoke the next day. He wished -he had a bandage, but he didn't, and that was that.</p> - -<p>He was in a freight car—had hopped it on the run at the yards, daring -to sneak back into town long enough for that. He could not hope to -hitchhike, with that mark on him. Anyway, hitchhiking was an invitation -to trouble.</p> - -<p>The railroads were safer—far safer than either cars or air transport, -notoriously a lightning-rod attracting possession. Chandler was -surprised when the train came crashing to a stop, each freight car -smashing against the couplings of the one ahead, the engine jolting -forward and stopping again.</p> - -<p>Then there was silence. It endured.</p> - -<p>Chandler, who had been slowly waking after a night of very little -sleep, sat up against the wall of the boxcar and wondered what was -wrong.</p> - -<p>It seemed remiss to start a day without signing the Cross or hearing a -few exorcismal verses. It seemed to be mid-morning, time for work to -be beginning at the plant. The lab men would be streaming in, their -amulets examined at the door. The chaplains would be wandering about, -ready to pray a possessing spirit out. Chandler, who kept an open mind, -had considerable doubt of the effectiveness of all the amulets and -spells—certainly they had not kept him from a brutal rape—but he felt -uneasy without them.... The train still was not moving. In the silence -he could hear the distant huffing of the engine.</p> - -<p>He went to the door, supporting himself with one hand on the wooden -wall, and looked out.</p> - -<p>The tracks followed the roll of a river, their bed a few feet higher -than an empty three-lane highway, which in turn was a dozen feet above -the water. As he looked out the engine brayed twice. The train jolted -uncertainly, then stopped again.</p> - -<p>Then there was a very long time when nothing happened at all.</p> - -<p>From Chandler's car he could not see the engine. He was on the convex -of the curve, and the other door of the car was sealed. He did not need -to see it to know that something was wrong. There should have been a -brakeman running with a flare to ward off other trains; but there was -not. There should have been a station, or at least a water tank, to -account for the stop in the first place. There was not. Something had -gone wrong, and Chandler knew what it was. Not the details, but the -central fact that lay behind this and behind almost everything that -went wrong these days.</p> - -<p>The engineer was possessed. It had to be that.</p> - -<p>Yet it was odd, he thought, as odd as his own trouble. He had chosen -this car with care. It contained eight refrigerator cars full of -pharmaceuticals, and if anything was known about the laws governing -possession, as his lawyer had told him, it was that such things were -almost never interfered with.</p> - -<p>Chandler jumped down to the roadbed, slipped on the crushed rock and -almost fell. He had forgotten the wound on his forehead. He clutched -the sill of the car door, where an ankh and fleur-de-lis had been -chalked to ward off demons, until the sudden rush of blood subsided and -the pain began to relent. After a moment he walked gingerly to the end -of the car, slipped between the cars, dodged the couplers and climbed -the ladder to its roof.</p> - -<p>It was a warm, bright, silent day. Nothing moved. From his height he -could see the Diesel at the front of the train and the caboose at its -rear. No people. The train was halted a quarter-mile from where the -tracks swooped across the river on a suspension bridge. Away from the -river, the side of the tracks that had been hidden from him before, was -an uneven rock cut and, above it, the slope of a mountain.</p> - -<p>By looking carefully he could spot the signs of a number of homes -within half a mile or so—the corner of a roof, a glassed-in porch -built to command a river view, a twenty-foot television antenna poking -through the trees. There was also the curve of a higher road along -which the homes were strung.</p> - -<p>Chandler took thought. He was alive and free, two gifts more gracious -than he had had any right to expect. However, he would need food and -he would need at least some sort of bandage for his forehead. He had -a wool cap, stolen from the high school, which would hide the mark, -though what it would do to the burn on his skin was something else -again.</p> - -<p>Chandler climbed down the ladder. With considerable pain he gentled -the cap over the great raw H on his forehead and began to climb the -mountain.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He knocked on the first door he came to, a great old three-story house -with well tended gardens.</p> - -<p>There was a wait. The air smelled warmly of honeysuckle and mown -grass, with wild onions chopped down by the blades of the mower. It -was pleasant, or would have been in happier times. He knocked again, -peremptorily, and the door was opened at once. Evidently someone had -been right inside, listening.</p> - -<p>A man stared at him. "Stranger, what do you want?" He was short, plump, -with an extremely thick and unkempt beard. It did not appear to have -been grown for its own sake, for where the facial hair could not be -coaxed to grow his skin had the gross pits of old acne.</p> - -<p>Chandler said glibly: "Good morning. I'm working my way east. I need -something to eat and I'm willing to work for it."</p> - -<p>The man withdrew, leaving the upper half of the Dutch door open. As it -looked in on only a vestibule it did not tell Chandler much. There was -one curious thing—a lath and cardboard sign, shaped like an arc of a -rainbow, lettered:</p> - -<p class="ph3">WELCOME TO ORPHALESE</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="331" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He puzzled over it and dismissed it. The entrance room, apart from -the sign, had a knickknack shelf of Japanese carved ivory and an -old-fashioned umbrella rack, but that added nothing to his knowledge. -He had already guessed that the owners of this home were well off. Also -it had been recently painted; so they were not demoralized, as so much -of the world had been demoralized, by the coming of the possessors. -Even the elaborate sculpturing of its hedges had been maintained.</p> - -<p>The man came back and with him was a girl of fifteen or so. She was -tall, slim and rather homely, with a large jaw and an oval face. "Guy, -he's not much to look at," she said to the pockmarked man. "Meggie, -shall I let him in?" he asked. "Guy, you might as well," she -shrugged, staring at Chandler with interest but not sympathy.</p> - -<p>"Stranger, come along," said the man named Guy, and led him through a -short hall into an enormous living room, a room two stories high with a -ten-foot fireplace.</p> - -<p>Chandler's first thought was that he had stumbled in upon a wake. The -room was neatly laid out in rows of folding chairs, more than half of -them occupied. He entered from the side, but all the occupants of the -chairs were looking toward him. He returned their stares; he had had -a good deal of practice lately in looking back at staring faces, he -reflected. "Stranger, go on," said the man who had let him in, nudging -him, "and meet the people of Orphalese."</p> - -<p>Chandler hardly heard him. He had not expected anything like this. It -was a meeting, a Daumier caricature of a Thursday Afternoon Literary -Circle, old men with faces like moons, young women with faces like -hags. They were strained, haggard and fearful, and a surprising number -of them showed some sort of physical defect, a bandaged leg, an arm in -a sling or merely the marks of pain on the features. "Stranger, go in," -repeated the man, and it was only then that Chandler noticed the man -was holding a pistol, pointed at his head.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler sat in the rear of the room, watching. There must be thousands -of little colonies like this, he reflected; with the breakdown of -long-distance communication the world had been atomized. There was a -real fear, well justified, of living in large groups, for they too were -lightning rods for possession. The world was stumbling along, but it -was lame in all its members; a planetary lobotomy had stolen from it -its wisdom and plan. If, he reflected dryly, it had ever had any.</p> - -<p>But of course things were better in the old days. The world had seemed -on the brink of blowing itself up, but at least it was by its own hand. -Then came Christmas.</p> - -<p>It had happened at Christmas, and the first sign was on nation-wide -television. The old President, balding, grave and plump, was making a -special address to the nation, urging good will to men and, please, -artificial trees because of the fire danger in the event of H-bomb -raids; in the middle of a sentence twenty million viewers had seen him -stop, look dazedly around and say, in a breathless mumble, what sounded -like: "<i>Disht dvornyet ilgt</i>." He had then picked up the Bible on the -desk before him and thrown it at the television camera.</p> - -<p>The last the televiewers had seen was the fluttering pages of the Book, -growing larger as it crashed against the lens, then a flicker and a -blinding shot of the studio lights as the cameraman jumped away and -the instrument swiveled to stare mindlessly upward. Twenty minutes -later the President was dead, as his Secretary of Health and Welfare, -hurrying with him back to the White House, calmly took a hand grenade -from a Marine guard at the gate and blew the President's party to -fragments.</p> - -<p>For the President's seizure was only the first and most conspicuous. -"<i>Disht dvornyet ilgt.</i>" C.I.A. specialists were playing the tapes -of the broadcast feverishly, electronically cleaning the mumble and -stir from the studio away from the words to try to learn, first, the -language and second what the devil it meant; but the President who -ordered it was dead before the first reel spun, and his successor was -not quite sworn in when it became his time to die. The ceremony was -interrupted for an emergency call from the War Room, where a very -nearly hysterical four-star general was trying to explain why he had -ordered the immediate firing of every live missile in his command -against Washington, D. C.</p> - -<p>Over five hundred missiles were involved. In most of the sites the -order was disobeyed, but in six of them, unfortunately, unquestioning -discipline won out, thus ending not only the swearing in, the general's -weeping explanation, the spinning of tapes, but also some two million -lives in the District of Columbia, Maryland, Virginia and (through -malfunctioning relays on two missiles) Pennsylvania and Vermont. But it -was only the beginning.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>These were the first cases of possession seen by the world in some -five hundred years, since the great casting out of devils of the -Middle Ages. A thousand more occurred in the next few days, a hundred -in the next hours. The timetable was made up out of scattered reports -in the wire-service newsrooms, while they still had facilities -for spot coverage in any part of the world. (That lasted almost a -week.) They identified 237 cases of possession by noon of the next -day. Disregarding the dubious items—the Yankee pitcher who leaped -from the Manhattan bridge (he had Bright's disease), the warden of -San Quentin who seated himself in the gas chamber and, literally, -kicked the bucket (did he know the Grand Jury was subpoenaing his -books?)—disregarding these, the chronology of major cases that evening -was:</p> - -<p>8:27 PM, E.S.T.: President has attack on television.</p> - -<p>8:28 PM, E.S.T.: Prime Minister of England orders bombing raid against -Israel, alleging secret plot (order not carried out).</p> - -<p>8:28 PM, E.S.T.: Captain of SSN <i>Ethan Allen</i>, surfaced near Montauk -Point, orders crash dive and course change, proceeding submerged at -flank speed to New York Harbor.</p> - -<p>9:10 PM, E.S.T.: Eastern Airlines six-engine jet makes wheels-up -landing on roof of Pentagon, breaking some 1500 windows but causing no -other major damage (except to the people aboard the jet); record of -this incident fragmentary because entire site charred black in fusion -attack two hours later.</p> - -<p>9:23 PM, E.S.T.: Rosalie Pan, musical-comedy star, jumps off stage, -runs up center aisle and vanishes in cab, wearing beaded bra, G-string -and $2500 headdress. Her movements are traced to Newark airport where -she boards TWA jetliner, which is never seen again.</p> - -<p>9:50 PM, E.S.T.: Entire S.A.C. fleet of 1200 jet bombers takes off -for rendezvous over Newfoundland, where 72% are compelled to ditch -as tankers fail to keep refueling rendezvous. (Orders committing the -aircraft originate with S.A.C. commander, found to be a suicide.)</p> - -<p>10.14 PM, E.S.T.: Submarine fusion explosion destroys 40% of New York -City. Analysis of fallout indicates U.S. Navy Polaris missiles were -detonated underwater in bay; by elimination it is deduced that the -submarine was the <i>Ethan Allen</i>.</p> - -<p>10:50 PM, E.S.T.: President's party assassinated by Secretary of -Health, Education and Welfare; Secretary then dies on bayonet of Marine -guard who furnished the grenade.</p> - -<p>10:55 PM, E.S.T. Satellite stations observe great nuclear explosions in -China and Tibet.</p> - -<p>11:03 PM, E.S.T.: Heavily loaded munitions barges exploded near North -Sea dikes of Holland; dikes breached, 1800 square miles of reclaimed -land flooded out....</p> - -<p>And so on. The incidents were countless. But before long, before even -the C.I.A. had finished the first playthrough of the tapes, before -their successors in the task identified <i>Disht dvornyet ilgt</i> as a -Ukrainian dialect rendering of, My God, it works!—before all this, one -fact was already apparent. There were many incidents scattered around -the world, but not one of them took place in Russia itself.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Warsaw was ablaze, China pockmarked with blasts, East Berlin demolished -along with its western sector, in eight rounds fired from a U.S. Army -nuclear cannon. But the U.S.S.R. had not suffered at all, as far as -could be told by the prying eyes in orbit; and that fact was reason -enough for it to suffer very greatly very soon.</p> - -<p>Within minutes of this discovery what remained of the military strength -of the Western world was roaring through airless space toward the most -likely targets of the East.</p> - -<p>One unscathed missile base in Alaska completed a full shoot, seven -missiles with fusion war-heads. The three American bases that survived -at all in the Mediterranean fired what they had. Even Britain, which -had already watched the fire-tails of the American missiles departing -on suicide missions, managed to resurrect its own two prototype -Blue Streaks from their racks, where they had moldered since the -cancellation of the British missile program. One of these museum-pieces -destroyed itself in launching, but the other chugged painfully across -the sky, the tortoise following the flight of the hares. It arrived a -full half-hour after the newer, hotter missiles. It might as well not -have bothered. There was not much left to destroy.</p> - -<p>It was fortunate for the Communists that most of the Western arsenal -had already spent itself in suicide. What was left wiped out Moscow, -Leningrad and nine other cities. It was even fortunate for the whole -world, for this was the Apocalypse they had dreaded, every possible -nuclear weapon committed. But the circumstances were such—hasty -orders, often at once recalled; confusion; panic—that most were -unfused, many others merely tore great craters in the quickly healing -surface of the sea. The fallout was locally murderous but quite spotty.</p> - -<p>And the conventional forces invading Russia found nothing to fight. The -Russians were as confused as they. There were not many survivors of the -very top brass, and no one seemed to know just what had happened.</p> - -<p>Was the Secretary of the C.P., U.S.S.R. behind that terrible brief -agony? As he was dead before it was over, there was no way to tell. -More than a quarter of a billion lives went into mushroom-shaped -clouds, and nearly half of them were Russian, Latvian, Tatar and -Kalmuck. The Peace Commission squabbled for a month, until the -breakdown of communications cut them off from their governments and -each other; and in that way, for a time, there was peace.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This was the sort of peace that was left, thought Chandler looking -around at the queer faces and queerer surroundings, the peace of -medieval baronies, cut off from the world, untouched where the rain -of fallout had passed by but hardly civilized any more. Even his own -home town, trying to take his life in a form of law, reduced at last -to torture and exile to cast him out, was not the civilization he had -grown up in but something new and ugly.</p> - -<p>There was a great deal of talk he did not understand because he could -not quite hear it, though they looked at him. Then Guy, with the gun, -led him up to the front of the room. They had constructed an improvised -platform out of plywood panels resting on squat, heavy boxes that -looked like empty ammunition crates. On the dais was a dentist's chair, -bolted to the plywood; and in the chair, strapped in, baby spotlights -on steel-tube frames glaring on her, was a girl. She looked at Chandler -with regretting eyes but did not speak.</p> - -<p>"Stranger, get up there," said Guy, prodding him from behind, and -Chandler took a plain wooden chair next to the girl.</p> - -<p>"People of Orphalese," cried the teen-age cutie named Meggie, "we have -two more brands to save from the imps!"</p> - -<p>The men and women in the audience cackled or shrilled "Save them! -Save them!" They all had a look of invisible uniforms, Chandler saw, -like baseball players in the lobby of a hotel or soldiers in a diner -outside the gate of their post; they were all of a type. Their type was -something strange. Some were tall, some short; there were old, fat, -lean and young around them; but they all wore about them a look of -glowing excitement, muted by an aura of suffering and pain. They wore, -in a word, the look of bigots.</p> - -<p>The bound girl was not one of them. She might have been twenty years -old or as much as thirty. She might have been pretty. It was hard to -tell; she wore no makeup, her hair strung raggedly to her neck, and -her face was drawn into a tight, lean line. It was her eyes that were -alive. She saw Chandler and she was sorry for him. And he saw, as he -turned to look at her, that she was manacled to the dentist's chair.</p> - -<p>"People of Orphalese," chanted Guy, standing behind Chandler with the -muzzle of the gun against his neck, "the <i>meeting</i> of the Orphalese -Self-Preservation <i>Society</i> will now come to <i>order</i>." There was an -approving, hungry murmur from the audience.</p> - -<p>"Well, people of <i>Orphalese</i>," Guy went on in his singsong, "the -agenda for the day is first the salvation of we <i>Orphalese</i> on -McGuire's <i>Mountain</i>."</p> - -<p>("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.) -A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the -stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler.</p> - -<p>"People of Orphalese, as we are <i>saved</i>, do I have your consent to -<i>pass on</i> and proceed to the next order of <i>business</i>?"</p> - -<p>("Consent, consent, consent," rolled the echo.)</p> - -<p>"And then the <i>second</i> item of business is to <i>welcome</i> and bring to -grace these two newly <i>found</i> and adopted <i>souls</i>."</p> - -<p>The congregation shouted variously: "Bring them to grace! Save them -from the imps! Keep Orphalese from the taint of the beast!"</p> - -<p>Evidently Guy was satisfied. He nodded and became more chatty. "Okay, -people of Orphalese, let's get down to it. We got two new ones, like I -say. Their spirits have gone wandering on the wind, or anyway one of -them has, and you all know the et cetera. They have committed a wrong -unto others and therefore unto themselves. Herself, I mean. Course, the -other one could have a flame spirit in him too." He stared severely at -Chandler. "Boys, keep an eye on him, why don't you?" he said to two -men in the front row, surrendering his gun. "Meggie, you tell about the -female one."</p> - -<p>The teen-aged girl stepped forward and said, in a conversational tone -but with modest pride, "People of Orph'lese, well, I was walking down -the cut and I heard this car coming. Well, I was pretty surprised, you -know. I had to figure what to do. You all know what the trouble is with -cars."</p> - -<p>"The imps!" cried a woman of forty with a face like a catfish.</p> - -<p>The girl nodded. "Most prob'ly. Well, I—I mean, people of Orph'lese, -well, I was by the switchback where we keep the chevvy-freeze hid, so I -just waited till I saw it slowing down for the curve—me out of sight, -you know—and I rolled the chevvy-freeze out nice and it caught the -wheels. Right over!" she cried gleefully. "Off the shoulder, people of -Orph'lese, and into the ditch and over, and I didn't give it a chance -to burn. I cut the switch and I had her! I put a knife into her back, -just a little, about a quarter of an inch, maybe. Her pain was the -breakin' of the shell that enclosed her understanding, like it says. -I figured she was all right then because she yelled but I brought her -along that way. Then Guy took care of her until we got the synod. Oh," -she remembered, "and her tongue staggered a little without purpose -while he was putting it on, didn't it, Guy?" The bearded man nodded, -grinning, and lifted up the girl's foot. Incredulously, Chandler saw -that it was bound tight with a three-foot length of barbed wire, wound -and twisted like a tourniquet, the blood black and congealed around it. -He lifted his shocked eyes to meet the girl's. She only looked at him, -with pity and understanding.</p> - -<p>Guy patted the foot and let it go. "I didn't have any more C-clamps, -people of Orphalese," he apologized, "but it looks all right at that. -Well, let's see. We got to make up our minds about these two, I -guess—no, wait!" He held up his hand as a murmur began. "First thing -is, we ought to read a verse or two."</p> - -<p>He opened a purple-bound volume at random, stared at a page for a -moment, moving his lips, and then read:</p> - -<p>"Some of you say, 'It is the north wind who has woven the clothes we -wear.'</p> - -<p>"And I say, Ay, it was the north wind, but shame was his loom, and the -softening of the sinews was his thread.</p> - -<p>"And when his work was done he laughed in the forest."</p> - -<p>Gently he closed the book, looking thoughtfully at the wall at the back -of the room. He scratched his head. "Well, people of Orphalese," he -said slowly "they're laughing in the forest all right, I guarantee, but -we've got one here that may be honest in the flesh, probably is, though -she was a thief in the spirit. Right? Well, do we take her in or reject -her, O people of Orphalese?"</p> - -<p>The audience muttered to itself and then began to call out: "Accept! -Oh, bring in the brand! Accept and drive out the imp!"</p> - -<p>"Fine," said the teen-ager, rubbing her hands and looking at the -bearded man. "Guy, let her go." He began to release her from the chair. -"You, girl stranger, what's your name?"</p> - -<p>The girl said faintly, "Ellen Braisted."</p> - -<p>"'<i>Meggie</i>, my name is Ellen Braisted,'" corrected the teen-ager. -"Always say the name of the person you're talkin' to in Orph'lese, that -way we know it's you talkin', not a flame spirit or wanderer. Okay, go -sit down." Ellen limped wordlessly down into the audience. "Oh, and -people of Orph'lese," said Meggie, "the car's still there if we need it -for anything. It didn't burn. Guy, you go on with this other fellow."</p> - -<p>Guy stroked his beard and assessed Chandler, looking him over -carefully. "Okay," he said. "People of Orphalese, the <i>third</i> order of -business is to <i>welcome</i> or reject this <i>other</i> brand saved from the -imps, as may be your <i>pleasure</i>." Chandler sat up straighter now that -all of them were looking at him again; but it wasn't quite his turn, at -that, because there was an interruption. Guy never finished. From the -valley, far below, there was a sudden mighty thunder, rolling among the -mountains. The windows blew in with a crystalline crash.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The room erupted into confusion, the audience leaping from their seats, -running to the broad windows, Guy and the teen-age girl seizing rifles, -everyone in motion at once.</p> - -<p>Chandler straightened, then sat down again. The red-headed man guarding -him was looking away. It would be quite possible to grab his gun, run, -get away from these maniacs. Yet he had nowhere to go. They might be -crazy, but they seemed to have organization.</p> - -<p>They seemed, in fact, to have worked out, on whatever crazed foundation -of philosophy, some practical methods for coping with possession. He -decided to stay, wait and see.</p> - -<p>And at once he found himself leaping for the gun.</p> - -<p>No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He -found his <i>body</i> doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was -the helpless compulsion he had felt before, that had nearly cost him -his life; his body active and urgent and his mind completely cut off -from it. He felt his own muscles move in ways he had not planned, -observed himself leap forward, felt his own fist strike at the back of -the red-headed man's ear. The man went spinning, the gun went flying, -Chandler's body leaped after it, with Chandler a prisoner in his own -brain, watching, horrified and helpless. And he had the gun!</p> - -<p>He caught it in the hand that was his own hand, though someone else -was moving it; he raised it and half-turned. He was suddenly conscious -of a fusillade of gunfire from the roof, and a scattered echo of guns -all round the outside of the house. Part of him was surprised, another -alien part was not. He started to shoot the teen-aged girl in the back -of the head, silently shouting <i>No!</i></p> - -<p>His fingers never pulled the trigger.</p> - -<p>He caught a second's glimpse of someone just beside him, whirled and -saw the girl, Ellen Braisted, limping swiftly toward him with her -barbed-wire amulet loose and catching at her feet. In her hands was -an axe-handle club caught up from somewhere. She struck at Chandler's -head, with a face like an eagle's, impersonal and determined. The blow -caught him and dazed him, and from behind someone else struck him with -something else. He went down.</p> - -<p>He heard shouts and firing, but he was stunned. He felt himself dragged -and dropped. He saw a cloudy, misty girl's face hanging over him; it -receded and returned. Then a frightful blistering pain in his hand -startled him back into full consciousness.</p> - -<p>It was the girl, Ellen, still there, leaning over him and, oddly, -weeping. And the pain in his hand was the burning flame of a kitchen -match. Ellen was doing it, his wrist in one hand, a burning match held -to it with the other.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">IV</p> - -<p>Chandler yelled hoarsely, jerking his hand away.</p> - -<p>She dropped the match and jumped up, stepping on the flame and watching -him. She had a butcher knife that had been caught between her elbow -and her body while she burned him. Now she put her hand on the knife, -waiting. "Does it hurt?" she demanded tautly.</p> - -<p>Chandler howled, with incredulity and rage: "God damn it, yes! What did -you expect?"</p> - -<p>"I expected it to hurt," she agreed. She watched him for a moment more -and then, for the first time since he had seen her, she smiled. It was -a small smile, but a beginning. A fusillade of shots from outside -wiped it away at once. "Sorry," she said. "I had to do that. Please -trust me."</p> - -<p>"<i>Why</i> did you have to burn my hand?"</p> - -<p>"House rules," she said. "Keeps the flame-spirits out, you know. They -can't stand pain." She took her hand off the knife warily, "it still -hurts, doesn't it?"</p> - -<p>"It still does, yes," nodded Chandler bitterly, and she lost interest -in him and got up, looking about the room. Three of the Orphalese were -dead, or seemed to be from the casual poses in which they lay draped -across a chair on the floor. Some of the others might have been freshly -wounded, though it was hard to tell the casualties from the others in -view of the Orphalese custom of self-inflicted pain. There was still -firing going on outside and overhead, and a shooting-gallery smell of -burnt powder in the air. The girl, Ellen Braisted, limped back with -the butcher knife held carelessly in one hand. She was followed by the -teen-ager, who wore a smile of triumph—and, Chandler noticed for the -first time, a sort of tourniquet of barbed-wire on her left forearm, -the flesh puffy red around it "Whopped 'em," she said with glee, and -pointed a .22 rifle at Chandler.</p> - -<p>Ellen Braisted said, "Oh, he—<i>Meggie</i>, I mean, he's all right." She -pointed at his burned palm. Meg approached him with competent care, -the rifle resting on her good right forearm and aimed at him as she -examined his burn. She pursed her lips and looked at his face. "All -right, Ellen, I guess he's clean. But you want to burn 'em deeper'n -that. Never pays to go easy, just means we'll have to do something else -to 'im tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"The hell you will," thought Chandler, and all but said it; but reason -stopped him. In Rome he would have to do Roman deeds. Besides, maybe -their ideas worked. Besides, he had until tomorrow to make up his mind -about what he wanted to do.</p> - -<p>"Ellen, show him around," ordered the teen-ager. "I got no time myself. -Shoosh! Almost got us that time, Ellen. Got to be more careful, cause -the white-handed aren't clean, you know." She strutted away, the rifle -at trail. She seemed to be enjoying herself very much.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The name of the girl in the barbed-wire bracelet was Ellen Braisted. -She came from Lehigh County, Pennsylvania, and Chandler's first wonder -was what she was doing nearly three thousand miles from home.</p> - -<p>Nobody liked to travel much these days. One place was as bad as -another, except that in the place where you were known you could -perhaps count on friends and as a stranger you were probable fair game -anywhere else. Of course, there was one likely reason for travel.</p> - -<p>She didn't like to talk about it, that was clear, but that was the -reason. She had been possessed. When the teen-ager trapped her car the -day before she had been the tool of another's will. She had had a dozen -sub-machine guns in the trunk and she had meant to deliver them to a -party of hunters in a valley just south of McGuire's Mountain. Chandler -said, with some effort, "I must have been——"</p> - -<p>"<i>Ellen</i>, I must have been," she corrected.</p> - -<p>"Ellen, I must have been possessed too, just now. When I grabbed the -gun."</p> - -<p>"Of course. First time?"</p> - -<p>He shook his head. For some reason the brand on his forehead began to -throb.</p> - -<p>"Well, then you know. Look out here, now."</p> - -<p>They were at the great pier windows that looked out over the valley. -Down below was the river, an arc of the railroad tracks, the wooded -mountainside he had scaled. "Over there, Chandler." She was pointing to -the railroad bridge.</p> - -<p>Wispy gray smoke drifted off southward toward the stream. The freight -train Chandler had ridden on had been stopped, all that time, in the -middle of the bridge. The explosion that blew out their windows had -occurred when another train plowed into it—evidently at high speed. It -seemed that one of the trains had carried some sort of chemicals. The -bridge was a twisted mess.</p> - -<p>"A diversion, Chandler," said Ellen Braisted. "They wanted us looking -that way. Then they attacked from up the mountain."</p> - -<p>"Who?"</p> - -<p>Ellen looked surprised. "The men that crashed the trains ... if they -<i>are</i> men. The ones who possessed me—and you—and the hunters. They -don't like these Orphalese, I think. Maybe they're a little afraid of -them. I think the Orphalese have a pretty good idea of how to fight -them."</p> - -<p>Chandler felt a sudden flash of sensation along his nerves. For a -moment he thought he had been possessed again, and then he knew it for -what it was. It was hope. "Ellen, I never thought of fighting them. I -thought that was given up two years ago."</p> - -<p>"So maybe you agree with me? Maybe you think it's worth while sticking -with the Orphalese?"</p> - -<p>Chandler allowed himself the contemplation of what hope meant. To find -someone in this world who had a <i>plan</i>! Whatever the plan was. Even if -it was a bad plan. He didn't think specifically of himself, or the -brand on his forehead or the memory of the body of his wife. What he -thought of was the prospect of thwarting—not even defeating, merely -hampering or annoying was enough!—the imps, the "flame creatures," -the pythons, devils, incubi or demons who had destroyed a world he had -thought very fair.</p> - -<p>"If they'll have me," he said, "I'll stick with them, all right! Where -do I go to join?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was not hard to join at all. Meg chattily informed him that he was -already practically a member. "Chandler, we got to watch everybody -strange, you know. See why, don't you? Might have a flame spirit in -'em, no fault of theirs, but look how they could mess us up. But now we -know you don't, so—What do you mean, how do we know? Cause you <i>did</i> -have one when you busted loose in there. Can't have two at a time, you -know. Think we couldn't tell the difference?"</p> - -<p>The interrupted meeting was resumed after the place had been tidied -up and the dead buried. There had been four of the hunters, and even -without their sub-machine guns they had succeeded in killing eight -Orphalese. But it was not all loss to the Orphalese, because two of the -hunters were still alive, though wounded, and under the rules of this -chessboard the captured enemy became a friend.</p> - -<p>Guy had suffered a broken jaw in the scuffle and another man presided, -a fat youth who favored a bandaged leg. He limped to his feet, -grimacing and patting his leg. "O Orphalese and brothers," he said, "we -have lost friends, but we have won a test. Praise the Prophet, we will -be spared to win again, and to drive the imps of fire out of our world. -Meggie, you going to tie these folks up?" The girl proudly ordered -one of the hunters into the spotlighted dentist's chair, another -into a wing chair that was hastily moved onto the platform. The men -were bleeding and hurt, but they had clearly been abandoned by their -possessors. They watched with puzzlement and fear.</p> - -<p>"Walter, they're okay now," Meg reported as others finished tying up -the hunters. "Oh, wait a minute." She advanced on Chandler. "Chandler, -I'm sorry. You sit down there, hear?"</p> - -<p>Chandler suffered himself to be bound to a camp chair on the platform -and Walter took a drink of wine and opened the ornate book that was -before him on the rostrum.</p> - -<p>"Meg, thanks. Guy, I hope I do this as good as you do. Let me read you -a little. Let's see." He put on his steel-rimmed glasses and read:</p> - -<p>"Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man, but a -shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own -awakening."</p> - -<p>He closed the book, looked with satisfaction at Guy and said: "Do you -understand that, new friends? They are the words of the Prophet, who -men call Kahlil Gibran. For the benefit of the new folks I ought to say -that he died this fleshly life quite a good number of years ago, but -his vision was unclouded. Like we say, we are the sinews that batter -the flame spirits but he is our soul." There was an antiphonal murmur -from the audience and Walter flipped the pages again rapidly, obviously -looking for a familiar passage. "People of Orphalese, here we are now. -This's what he says. What is this that has torn our world apart? The -Prophet says: 'It is life in quest of life, in bodies that fear the -grave.' Now, honestly, nothing could be clearer than that, people of -Orphalese and friends! We got something taking possession of us, see? -What is it? Well, he says here, people of Orphalese and friends, 'It -is a flame spirit in you ever gathering more of itself.' Now, what the -heck! Nobody can blame <i>us</i> for what a flame spirit <i>in</i> us does! So -the first thing we got to learn, friends—and people of Orphalese—is, -we aren't to blame. And the second thing is, we <i>are</i> to blame!"</p> - -<p>He turned and grinned at Chandler kindly, while the chorus of -responses came from the room, "Like here," he said, "people of -Orphalese, the Prophet says <i>everybody</i> is guilty. 'The murdered is -not unaccountable for his own murder, and the robbed is not blameless -in being robbed. The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the -wicked, and the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.' -You see what he's getting at? We all got to take the responsibility -for <i>everything</i>—and that means we got to suffer—but we don't have -to worry about any special things we did when some flame spirit or -wanderer, like, took us over.</p> - -<p>"But we do have to suffer, people of Orphalese." His expression became -grim. "Our beloved founder, Guy, who's sitting there doing a little -extra suffering now, was favored enough to understand these things in -the very beginning, when he himself was seized by these imps. And it is -all in this book! Like it says, 'Your pain is self-chosen. It is the -bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.' -Ponder on that, people of Orphalese—and friends. No, I mean really -ponder," he explained, glancing at the bound "friends" on the platform. -"We always do that for a minute. Ada there will play us some music so -we can ponder."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler shifted uncomfortably, while an old woman crippled by -arthritis began fumbling a tune out of an electric organ. The burn -Ellen Braisted had given him was beginning to hurt badly. If only these -people were not such obvious <i>nuts</i>, he thought, he would feel a lot -better about casting his lot in with them. But maybe it took lunatics -to do the job. Sane people hadn't accomplished much.</p> - -<p>And anyway he had very little choice....</p> - -<p>"Ada, that's enough," ordered the fat youth. "Meg, come on up here. -People of Orphalese, now you can listen again while Meg explains to the -new folks how all this got started, seeing Guy's in no condition to do -it."</p> - -<p>The teen-ager marched up to the platform and took the parade-rest -position learned in some high-school debating society—in the days when -there were debating societies and high schools. "Ladies and gentlemen, -well, let's start at the beginning. Guy tells this better'n I do, -of course, but I guess I remember it all pretty well too. I ought -to. I was in on it and all." She grimaced and said, "Well, anyway, -ladies and gentlemen—people of Orph'lese—the way Guy organized -this Orphalese self-protection society was, like Walter says, he was -possessed. The only difference between Guy and you and me was that he -knew what to do about it, because he read the book, you see. Not that -that helped him at first, when he was took over. He was really seized. -Yes, people of Orph'lese, he was taken and while his whole soul and -brain and body was under the influence of some foul wanderer fiend -from hell he did things that, ladies and gentlemen of Orph'lese, I -wouldn't want to tell you. He was a harp in the hand of the mighty, as -it says. Couldn't help it, not however much he tried. Only while he -was doing—the things—he happened to catch his hand in a gas flame -and, well, you can see it was pretty bad." With a deprecatory smile Guy -held up a twisted hand. "And, do you know, he was free of his imp right -then and there! Now, Guy is a scientist, people of Orph'lese, he worked -for the telephone company, and he not only had that training in the -company school but he had read the book, you see, and he put two and -two together. Oh, and he's my uncle, of course. I'm proud of him. I've -always loved him, and even when he—when he was not one with himself, -you know, when he was doing those terrible things to me, I knew it -wasn't Uncle Guy that was doing them, but something else. I didn't know -what, though. And when he told me he had figured out the Basic Rule, -I went along with him every bit. I knew Guy wasn't wrong, and what he -said was from Scripture. Imps fear pain! So we got to love it. That one -I know by heart, all right: 'Could you keep your heart from wonder at -the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous -than your joy.' That's what it says, right? So that's why we got to -hurt ourselves, people of Orph'lese—and new brothers—because the -wanderers don't like it when we hurt and they leave us alone. Simple's -that.</p> - -<p>"Well—" the girl's face stiffened momentarily—"I knew <i>I</i> wasn't -going to be seized. So Guy and I got Else, that's the other girl he'd -been doing things to, and we knew she wasn't going to be taken either. -Not if the imps feared pain like Guy said, because," she said solemnly, -"I want to tell you Guy hurt us pretty bad.</p> - -<p>"And then we came out here, and found this place, and ever since then -we've been adding brothers and sisters. It's been slow, of course, -because not many people come this way any more, and we've had to kill -a lot. Yes, we have. Sometimes the possessed just can't be saved, but—"</p> - -<p>Abruptly her face changed.</p> - -<p>Suddenly alert, her face years older, she glanced around the room. Then -she relaxed....</p> - -<p>And screamed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Guy leaped up. Hoarsely, his voice almost inarticulate as he tried to -talk with his broken jaw, he cried, "Wha ... Wha's ... <i>matter</i>, Meg?</p> - -<p>"Uncle Guy!" she wailed. She plunged off the platform and flung herself -into his arms, crying hysterically.</p> - -<p>"<i>Wha?</i>"</p> - -<p>She sobbed, "I could feel it! They <i>took</i> me. Guy, you promised me they -couldn't!"</p> - -<p>He shook his head, dazed, staring at her as though she were indeed -possessed—still possessed, and telling him some fearful great lie to -destroy his hopes. He seemed unable to comprehend what she had said. -One of the hunters bellowed in stark fear: "For God's sake, untie -us! Give us a chance, anyway!" Chandler yelled agreement. In one -split second everyone in the room had been transmuted by terror into -something less than human. No one seemed capable of any action. Slowly -the plump youth who had presided moved over to the hunter bound in -the dentist's chair and began to fumble blindly at the knots. Ellen -Braisted dropped her head into her hands and began to shake.</p> - -<p>The cruelty of the moment was that they had all tasted hope. Chandler -writhed wildly against his ropes, his mind racing out of control. The -world had become a hell for everyone, but a bearable hell until the -promise of a chance to end it gave them a full sight of what their -lives had been. Now that that was dashed they were far worse off than -before.</p> - -<p>Walter finished with the hunter and lethargically began to pick at -Chandler's bonds. His face was slack and unseeing.</p> - -<p>Then it, too, changed.</p> - -<p>The plump youth stood up sharply, glanced about, and walked off the -platform.</p> - -<p>Ellen Braisted raised her face from her hands and, her eyes streaming, -quietly stood up and followed. The old lady with the arthritis -about-faced and limped with them. Chandler stared, puzzled, and then -comprehended.</p> - -<p>They were marching toward the corner of the room where the rifles were -stacked. "Possessed!" Chandler bellowed, the words tasting of acid as -they ripped out of his throat. "Stop them! You—Guy—look!" He flailed -wildly at his loosened bonds, lunged, tottered and toppled, chair and -all, crashingly off the platform.</p> - -<p>The three possessed ones did not need to hurry. They had all the time -in the world. They were already reaching out for the rifles when -Chandler shouted. Economically they turned, raising the butts to -their shoulders, and began to fire at the Orphalese. It was a queerly -frightening sight to see the arthritic organist, with a face like a -relaxed executioner, take quick aim at Guy and, with a thirty-thirty -shell, blow his throat out. Three shots, and the nearest three of the -congregation were dead. Three more, and others went down, while the -remainder turned and tried to run. It was like a slaughter of vermin. -They never had a chance.</p> - -<p>When every Orphalese except themselves was down on the floor, dead, -wounded or, like Chandler, overlooked, the arthritic lady took careful -aim at Ellen Braisted and the plump youth and shot them neatly in the -temples. They didn't try to prevent her. With expressions that seemed -almost impatient they presented their profiles to her aim.</p> - -<p>Then the arthritic lady glanced leisurely about, fired into the -stomach of a wounded man who was trying to rise, reloaded her rifle -for insurance and began to search the bodies of the nearest dead. She -was looking for matches. When she found them, she tugged weakly at the -upholstery on a couch, swore and began methodically to rip and crumple -pages out of Kahlil Gibran. When she had a heap of loose papers piled -against the dais she pitched the remainder of the book out of the -window, knelt and ignited the crumpled heap.</p> - -<p>She stood watching the fire, her expression angry and impatient, -tapping her foot.</p> - -<p>The crumpled pages burned briskly. Before they died the wooden dais was -beginning to catch. Laboriously the old lady toted folding chairs to -pile on the blaze until it was roaring handsomely.</p> - -<p>She watched it for several minutes, until it was a great orange pillar -of fire sweeping to the ceiling, until the drapes on the wall behind -were burning and the platform was a holocaust, until the noise of -crackling flame and the beginning of plaster falling from the high -ceiling proved that there was no likelihood of the fire going out -and, indeed, no way to put it out without a complete fire department -arriving on the scene at once.</p> - -<p>The old lady's expression cleared. She nodded to herself. She then -put the muzzle of the rifle in her mouth and, with her thumb, pulled -the trigger that blew the top of her head off. The body fell into the -flames, but it was by then already dead.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler had not been shot, but he was very near to roasting. Walter -had released one hand and, while the possessed woman's attention was -elsewhere, Chandler had worked on the other knots.</p> - -<p>When he saw her commit suicide he redoubled his efforts. It was -incredible to him that his life had been saved, and he knew that if he -escaped the flames he still had nothing to live for—that blasted brief -hope had broken his spirit—but his fingers had a will of their own.</p> - -<p>He lay there, struggling, while great black clouds of smoke, orange -painted from the flames, gathered under the high ceiling, while the -thunder of falling lumps of plaster sounded like a child heaving -volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica down a flight of stairs, while -the heat and shortage of oxygen made him breathe in violent spasms. -Then he cried out sharply and stumbled to his feet. It was only a -matter of moments before he was out of the house, but it was very -nearly not time enough.</p> - -<p>Behind him was a great, sustained crash. He thought it must have been -the furniture on the upper floor toppling through the burned-out -ceiling of the hall. He turned and looked.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="361" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>It was dark, and now every window on the side of the house facing him -was lighted. It was as though some mad householder had decided to equip -his rooms only with orange lights, orange lights that flickered and -moved. For a second Chandler thought there were still living people in -the rooms—shapes moved and cavorted at the windows, as though they -were gathering up possessions or waving wildly for help. But it was -only the drapes, aflame, tossed about in the fierce heat.</p> - -<p>Chandler sighed and turned away.</p> - -<p>Pain was not a sure defense after all. Evidently it was only an -annoyance to the possessors ... whoever, or whatever, they might be. -As soon as they had become suspicious they had exerted themselves and -destroyed the Orphalese. He listened and looked about, but no one else -moved. He had not expected anyone. He had been sure that he was the -only survivor.</p> - -<p>He began to walk down the hill toward the wrecked railway bridge, -turning only when a roar told him that the roof of the house had fallen -in. A tulip of flame a hundred feet tall rose above the standing walls, -and above that a shower of floating red-orange sparks, heat-borne, -drifting up and away and beginning to settle all over the mountainside. -Many were still red when they landed, a few still flaming. It was a -distinct risk that the trees would begin to burn, and then he would be -in fresh danger. So great was his stupor that he did not even hurry.</p> - -<p>By a plowed field he flung himself to the ground.</p> - -<p>He could go no farther because he had nowhere to go. He had had two -homes and he had been driven from both of them. He had had hope twice, -and twice he had been damned.</p> - -<p>He lay on his back, with the burning house mumbling and crackling in -the distance, and stared up at the orange-lit tops of the trees and, -past them, the stars. Over his left shoulder Deneb chased Vega across -the sky; toward his feet something moved between the bright rosy dot -that was Antares and another, the same brightness and hue—Mars? He -spent several moments wondering if Mars were in that part of the -heavens. Then he looked again for the tiny moving point that had -crossed the claws of the Scorpion, but it was gone. A satellite, maybe. -Although there were few of them left that the naked eye could hope to -see. And there would never be any more, because the sort of accumulated -wealth of nations that threw rockets into the sky was forever spent.</p> - -<p>It was probably an airplane, he thought drowsily, and drifted off to -sleep without realizing how remote even that possibility had become.... -He woke up to find that he was getting to his feet.</p> - -<p>Once again an interloper tenanted his brain. He tried to interfere, for -he could not help it, although he knew how useless it was, but his own -neck muscles turned his head from side to side, his own eyes looked -this way and that, his own hand reached down for a dead branch that lay -on the ground, then hesitated and withdrew. His body stood motionless -for a second, the lips moving, the larynx mumbling to itself. He could -almost hear words. Chandler felt like a fly in amber, prisoned in his -own brainbox. He was not surprised when his legs moved to carry him -back toward the destroyed building, now a fakir's bed of white-hot -coals with brush fires spattered around it. He thought he knew why. It -seemed very likely that what possessor had him was a sort of clean-up -squad, tidying up the loose ends of the slaughter; he expected that his -body's errand was to destroy itself, and thus him, as all the Orphalese -had been destroyed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">V</p> - -<p>Chandler's body carried him rapidly toward the house. Now and then it -paused and glanced about. It seemed to be weighing some shortcut in -its errand; but always it resumed its climb.</p> - -<p>Chandler could sympathize with it, in a way. He still felt every -pain from burn, brand and wound; as they neared the embers of the -building the heat it threw off intensified them all. He could not be a -comfortable body to inhabit for long. He was almost sympathetic because -his tenant could not find a convenient weapon with which to fulfill his -purpose.</p> - -<p>When it seemed they could get no closer without the skin of his face -crackling and bursting into flame his body halted.</p> - -<p>Chandler could feel his muscles gathering for what would be the final -leap into the auto-da-fe. His feet took a short step—and slipped. -His body stumbled and recovered itself; his mouth swore thickly in a -language he did not know.</p> - -<p>Then his body hesitated, glanced at the ground, paused again and bent -down. It had tripped on a book. It picked the book up, and Chandler saw -that it was the Orphalese copy of Gibran's <i>The Prophet</i>.</p> - -<p>Chandler's body stood poised for a moment, in an attitude of thought. -Then it sat down, in the play of heat from the coals. It was a moment -before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked; -he got up, turned and began to walk away.</p> - -<p>He had traveled no more than a few yards when he stumbled slightly, as -though shifting gears, and felt the tenant in his mind again.</p> - -<p>He continued to walk away from the building, down toward the road. Once -his arm raised the book he still carried and his eyes glanced down, as -if for reassurance that it was the same book. That was the only clue he -was given as to what had happened and it was not much. It was as though -his occupying power, whatever it was, had gone—somewhere—to think -things over, perhaps to ask a question of an unimaginable companion, -and then returned with an altered purpose. As time passed, Chandler -began to receive additional clues, but he was in little shape to fit -them together, for his body was near exhaustion.</p> - -<p>He walked to the road, and waited, rigid, until a panel truck came -bouncing along. He hailed it, his arms making a sign he did not -understand, and when it stopped he addressed the driver in a language -he did not speak. "<i>Shto</i>," said the driver, a somber-faced Mexican in -dungarees. "<i>Ja nie jestem Ruska. Czego pragniesh?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Czy ty jedziesz to</i> Los Angeles?" asked Chandler's mouth.</p> - -<p>"<i>Nyet. Acapulco.</i>"</p> - -<p>Chandler's voice argued, "<i>Wes na</i> Los Angeles."</p> - -<p>"<i>Nyet.</i>" The voices droned on. Chandler lost interest in the argument -and was only relieved when it seemed somehow to be settled and he was -herded into the back of the truck. The somber Mexican locked him in; he -felt the truck begin to move; his tenant left him, and he was at once -asleep.</p> - -<p>He woke long enough to find himself standing in the mist of early dawn -at a crossroads. In a few minutes another car came by, and his voice -talked earnestly with the driver for a moment. Chandler got in, was -released, slept again and woke to find himself free and abandoned, -sprawled across the back seat of the car, which was parked in front of -a building marked Los Angeles International Airport.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler got out of the car and strolled around, stretching. He -realized he was very hungry.</p> - -<p>No one was in sight. The field showed clear signs of having been -through the same sort of destruction that had visited every major -communications facility in the world. Part of the building before -him was smashed flat and showed signs of having been burned. He saw -projecting aluminum members, twisted and scorched but still visibly -aircraft parts. Apparently a transport had crashed into the building. -Burned-out cars littered the parking lot and what had once been a green -lawn. They seemed to have been bulldozed out of the way, but not an -inch farther than was necessary to clear the approach roads.</p> - -<p>To his right, as he stared out onto the field, was a strange-looking -construction on three legs, several stories high. It did not seem -to serve any useful purpose. Perhaps it had been a sort of luxury -restaurant at one time, like the Space Needle from the old Seattle -Fair, but now it too was burned out and glassless in its windows. The -field itself was swept bare except for two or three parked planes in -the bays, but he could see wrecked transports lining the approach -strips. All in all, Los Angeles International Airport appeared to be -serviceable, but only just.</p> - -<p>He wondered where all the people were.</p> - -<p>Distant truck noises answered part of the question. An Army six by six -came bumping across a bridge that led from the takeoff strips to this -parking area of the airport. Five men got out next to one of the ships. -They glanced at him but did not speak as they began loading crates of -some sort of goods from the truck into the aircraft, a four-engine, -swept-wing jet of what looked to Chandler like an obsolete model. -Perhaps it was one of the early Boeings. There hadn't been many of -those in use at the time the troubles began, too big and fast for short -hops, too slow to compete over long distances with the rockets. But, of -course, with all the destruction, and with no new aircraft being built -anywhere in the world any more, no doubt they were as good as could be -found.</p> - -<p>The truckmen did not seem to be possessed; they worked with the -normal amount of grunting and swearing, pausing to wipe sweat away -or to scratch an itch. They showed neither the intense malevolent -concentration nor the wide-eyed idiot curiosity of those whose bodies -were no longer their own. Chandler settled the woolen cap over the -brand on his forehead, to avoid unpleasantness, and drifted over toward -them.</p> - -<p>They stopped work and regarded him. One of them said something to -another, who nodded and walked toward Chandler. "What do you want?" he -demanded warily.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I was going to ask you the same question, I guess."</p> - -<p>The man scowled. "Didn't your exec tell you what to do?"</p> - -<p>"My what?"</p> - -<p>The man paused, scratched and shook his head. "Well, stay away from us. -This is an important shipment, see? I guess you're all right or you -couldn't've got past the guards, but I don't want you messing us up. -Got enough trouble already. I don't know why," he said in the tones -of an old grievance, "we can't get the execs to let us <i>know</i> when -they're going to bring somebody in. It wouldn't hurt them! Now here we -got to load and fuel this ship and, for all I know, you've got half a -ton of junk around somewhere that you're going to load onto it. How do -I know how much fuel it'll take? No weather, naturally. So if there's -headwinds it'll take full tanks, but if there's extra cargo I—"</p> - -<p>"The only cargo I brought with me that I can think of is a book," said -Chandler. "Weighs maybe a pound. You think I'm supposed to get on that -plane?"</p> - -<p>The man grunted non-committally.</p> - -<p>"All right, suit yourself. Listen, is there any place I can get -something to eat?"</p> - -<p>The man considered. "Well, I guess we can spare you a sandwich. But you -wait here. I'll bring it to you."</p> - -<p>He went back to the truck. A moment later one of the others brought -Chandler two cold hamburgers wrapped in waxed paper, but would answer -no questions.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler ate every crumb, sought and found a washroom in the wrecked -building, came out again and sat in the sun, watching the loading crew. -He had become quite a fatalist. It did not seem that it was intended he -should die immediately, so he might as well live.</p> - -<p>There were large gaps in his understanding, but it seemed clear to -Chandler that these men, though not possessed, were in some way working -for the possessors. It was a distasteful concept; but on second thought -it had reassuring elements. It was evidence that whatever the "execs" -were, they were very possibly human beings—or, if not precisely human, -at least shared the human trait of working by some sort of organized -effort toward some sort of a goal. It was the first non-random -phenomenon he had seen in connection with the possessors, barring the -short-term tactical matters of mass slaughter and destruction. It made -him feel—what he tried at once to suppress, for he feared another -destroying frustration—a touch of hope.</p> - -<p>The men finished their work but did not leave. Nor did they approach -Chandler, but sat in the shade of their truck, waiting for something. -He drowsed and was awakened by a distant sputter of a single-engined -Aerocoupe that hopped across the building behind him, turned sharply -and came down with a brisk little run in the parking bay itself.</p> - -<p>From one side the pilot climbed down and from the other two men lifted, -with great care, a wooden crate, small but apparently heavy. They -stowed it in the jet while the pilot stood watching; then the pilot and -one of the other men got into the crew compartment. Chandler could not -be sure, but he had the impression that the truckman who entered the -plane was no longer his own master. His movements seemed more sure and -confident, but above all it was the mute, angry eyes with which his -fellows regarded him that gave Chandler grounds for suspicion. He had -no time to worry about that; for in the same breath he felt himself -occupied once more.</p> - -<p>He did not rise. His own voice said to him, "You. Votever you name, you -fellow vit de book! You go get de book verever you pud it and get on -dat ship dere, you see?" His eyes turned toward the waiting aircraft. -"And don't forget de book!"</p> - -<p>He was released. "I won't," he said automatically, and then realized -that there was no longer anyone there to hear his answer.</p> - -<p>When he retrieved the Gibran volume from the car and approached the -plane the loading crew said nothing. Evidently they knew what he was -doing—either because they too had been given instructions, or because -they were used to such things. He paused at the wheeled stairs. -"Listen," he said, "can you at least tell me where I'm going?"</p> - -<p>The four remaining men looked at him silently, with the same angry, -worried expression he had seen on their faces before. They did not -answer, but after a moment one of them raised his arm and pointed.</p> - -<p>West. Out toward the Pacific. Out toward some ten million square miles -of nearly empty sea.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Long before they reached their destination Chandler had reasoned what -it must be. He was correct: it was the islands of Hawaii.</p> - -<p>Chandler knew that the pilot and his coopted partner were up forward, -in the crew compartment, but the door was locked and he never saw them -again. Apart from them he was the only living person on the plane.</p> - -<p>The plane was lightly loaded with cargo of unidentifiable sorts. In -the rear section, where once tourist-class passengers had eaten their -complimentary tray meals and planned their vacations, the seats had -been removed and a thin scatter of crates and boxes were strapped to -the floor. In the luxury of the forward section Chandler sat, stared at -the water and drowsed. He seemed to be always sleepy. Perhaps it was -the consequence of his exertions; more likely it was a psychological -phenomenon. He was beyond worry. He had reached that point in emotional -fatigue when the sudden rattle of cannonfire or the enemy's banzai -charge can no longer flood the blood with adrenalin. The glands are -dry. The emotions have been triggered too often. Battle fatigue takes -men in many different ways, but in Chandler it was only apathy. He not -only could not worry, he could not even rouse himself to feel hunger, -although the pricking of habit made him get up and search the flight -kitchen, unsuccessfully, for food.</p> - -<p>He had no idea how much time had passed when the hiss of the jets -changed key.</p> - -<p>The horizon dipped below the wingtip and straightened again, and he -beheld land. He never saw the airfield, only water, then beach, then -water again, then a few buildings. Then there was a roar of jets, with -their clamshells deflecting their thrust forward to brake their speed, -and then the wheels were on the ground. As the plane stopped he felt -himself once more possessed. It was no longer terrifying—though -Chandler was sure he was doomed.</p> - -<p>Without knowing where he was going or why he picked up the ripped book, -opened the cabin exit and stepped down onto the rolling steps that had -immediately been brought into place. He was conscious of a horde of -men swarming around the plane, stripping it of its cargo, and wondered -briefly at the rush; but he could not stop to watch them, his legs -carried him swiftly across a paved strip to where a police car was -cruising.</p> - -<p>Chandler cringed inside, instinctively, but his body did not falter as -it stepped into the path of the car and raised its hand.</p> - -<p>The police car jammed on its brakes. The policeman at the wheel, -Chandler thought inside himself, looked startled, but he also looked -resigned. "To de South Gate, qvickly," said Chandler's lips, and he -felt his legs carry him around to the door on the other side.</p> - -<p>There was another policeman on the seat next to the driver. He leaped -like a hare to get the door open and get out before Chandler's body got -there. He made it with nothing to spare. "Jack, you go on, I'll tell -Headquarters," he said hurriedly. The driver nodded without speaking. -His lips were white. He reached over Chandler to close the door and -made a sharp U-turn.</p> - -<p>As soon as the car was moving Chandler felt himself able to move his -lips again.</p> - -<p>"I," he said. "I don't know—"</p> - -<p>"Friend," said the policeman, "kindly keep your mouth shut. 'South -Gate,' the exec said, and South Gate is where I'm going."</p> - -<p>Chandler shrugged and looked out the window ... just in time to see the -jet that had brought him to the islands once more lumbering into life. -It crept, wobbling its wingtips, over the ground, picked up speed, -roared across taxi strips and over rough ground and at last piled up -against an ungainly looking foreign airplane, a Russian jet by its -markings, in a thunderous crash and ball of flame as its fuel exploded. -No one got out.</p> - -<p>It seemed that traffic to Hawaii was all one way.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">VI</p> - -<p>They roared through downtown Honolulu with the siren blaring and cars -scattering out of the way. At seventy miles an hour they raced down a -road by the sea. Chandler caught a glimpse of a sign that said "Hilo," -but where or what "Hilo" might be he had no idea. Soon there were fewer -cars; then there were none but their own.</p> - -<p>The road was a surburban highway lined with housing development, -shopping centers, palm groves and the occasional center of a small -municipality, scattering helterskelter together. There was a road like -this extending in every direction from every city in the United States, -Chandler thought; but this one was somewhat altered. Something had been -there before them. About a mile outside Honolulu's outer fringe, life -was cut off as with a knife. There were no people on foot, and the only -cars were rusted wrecks lining the roads. The lawns were ragged stands -of weeds in front of the ranch-type homes.</p> - -<p>It was evidently not allowed to live here.</p> - -<p>Chandler craned his neck. His curiosity was becoming almost unbearable. -He opened his mouth, but, "I said, 'Shut up.'" rumbled the cop without -looking at him. There was a note in the policeman's voice that -impressed Chandler. He did not quite know what it was, but it made him -obey. They drove for another fifteen minutes in silence, then drew up -before a barricade across the road.</p> - -<p>Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping -rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back -toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler.</p> - -<p>Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a -reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet -there, except for a soft scratchy sound of footsteps on gravel. As -Chandler turned to face the man who was coming toward him, he realized -he had learned one fact from the policeman after all. The cop was -scared clear through.</p> - -<p>Chandler said, "Hello," to the man who was approaching.</p> - -<p>He too wore a uniform, but not that of the Honolulu city police. It -was like U.S. Army suntans, but without insignia. Behind him were -half a dozen others in the same dress, smoking, chatting, leaning -against whatever was handy. The barricades themselves were impressively -thorough. Barbed wire ran down the beach and out into the ocean; on the -other side of the road, barbed wire ran clear out of sight along the -middle of a side road. The gate itself was bracketed with machine-gun -emplacements.</p> - -<p>The guard waited until he was close to Chandler before speaking. "What -do you want?" he asked without greeting. Chandler shrugged. "All right, -just wait here," said the guard, and began to walk away again.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute! What am I waiting for?" The guard shook his head -without stopping or turning. He did not seem very interested, and he -certainly was not helpful.</p> - -<p>Chandler put down the copy of <i>The Prophet</i> which he had carried so -far and sat on the ground, but again he had no long time to wait. One -of the guards came toward him, with the purposeful movements Chandler -had learned to recognize. Without speaking the guard dug into a pocket. -Chandler jumped up instinctively, but it was only a set of car keys.</p> - -<p>As Chandler took them the look in the guard's eyes showed the quick -release of tension that meant he was free again; and in that same -moment Chandler's own body was occupied once more.</p> - -<p>He reached down and picked up the book. Quickly, but a little clumsily, -his fingers selected a key, and his legs carried him toward a little -French car parked just the other side of the barrier.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler was learning at last the skills of allowing his body to have -its own way. He couldn't help it in any event, so he was consciously -disciplining himself to withdraw his attention from his muscles and -senses. It involved queerly vertiginous problems. A hundred times a -minute there was some unexpected body sway or movement of the hand, -and his lagging, imprisoned mind would wrench at its unresponsive -nerves to put out the elbow that would brace him or to catch itself -with a step. He had learned to ignore these things. The mind that -inhabited his body had ways not his own of maintaining balance and -reaching an objective, but they were equally sure.</p> - -<p>He watched his own hands shifting the gears of the car. It was a make -he had never driven, with a clutchless drive he did not understand, but -the mind in his brain evidently understood it well enough. They picked -up speed in great, gasoline-wasting surges.</p> - -<p>Chandler began to form a picture of that mind. It belonged to an older -man, from the hesitancy of its walk, and a testy one, from the heedless -crash of the gears as it shifted. It drove with careless slapdash -speed. Chandler's mind yelled and flinched in his brain as they rounded -blind curves, where any casual other motorist would have been a -catastrophe; but the hand on the wheel and the foot on the accelerator -did not hesitate.</p> - -<p>Beyond the South Gate the island of Oahu became abruptly wild.</p> - -<p>There were beautiful homes, but there were also great, gap-toothed -spaces where homes had once been and were no longer. It seemed that -some monstrous Zoning Commissar had stalked through the island with -an eraser, rubbing out the small homes, the cheap ones, the old ones; -rubbing out the stores, rubbing out the factories. This whole section -of the island had been turned into an exclusive residential park.</p> - -<p>It was not uninhabited. Chandler thought he glimpsed a few people, -though since the direction of his eyes was not his to control it was -hard to be sure. And then the Renault turned into a lane, paved but -narrow. Hardwood trees with some sort of blossoms, Chandler could not -tell what, overhung it on both sides.</p> - -<p>It meandered for a mile or so, turned and opened into a great vacant -parking lot. The Renault stopped with a squeal of brakes in front of a -door that was flanked by bronze plaques: <i>TWA Flight Message Center</i>.</p> - -<p>Chandler caught sight of a skeletal towering form overhead, like -a radio transmitter antenna, as his body marched him inside, up a -motionless escalator, along a hall and into a room.</p> - -<p>His muscles relaxed.</p> - -<p>He glanced around and, from a huge couch beside a desk, a huge soft -body stirred and, gasping, sat up. It was a very fat old man, almost -bald, wearing a coronet of silvery spikes.</p> - -<p>He looked at Chandler without much interest. "Vot's your name?" he -wheezed. He had a heavy, ineradicable accent, like a Hapsburg or a -Russian diplomat. Chandler recognized it readily. He had heard it often -enough, from his own lips.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The man's name was Koitska, he said in his accented wheeze. If he had -another name he did not waste it on Chandler. He took as few words as -possible to order Chandler to be seated and to be still.</p> - -<p>Koitska squinted at the copy of Gibran's <i>The Prophet</i>. He did not -glance at Chandler, but Chandler felt himself propelled out of his -seat, to hand the book to Koitska, then returning. Koitska turned its -remaining pages with an expression of bored repugnance, like a man -picking off his arm. He seemed to be waiting for something.</p> - -<p>A door closed on the floor below, and in a moment a girl came into the -room.</p> - -<p>She was tall, dark and not quite young. Chandler, struck by her beauty, -was sure that he had seen her, somewhere, but could not place her face. -She wore a coronet like the fat man's, intertwined in a complicated -hairdo, and she got right down to business. "Chandler, is it? All -right, love, what we want to know is what this is all about." She -indicated the book.</p> - -<p>A relief that was like pain crossed Chandler's mind. So that was why he -was here! Whoever these people were, however they managed to rule men's -minds, they were not quite certain of their perfect power. To them the -sad, futile Orphalese represented a sort of annoyance—not important -enough to be a threat—but something which had proved inconvenient at -one time and therefore needed investigating. As Chandler was the only -survivor they had deemed it worth their godlike whiles to transport him -four thousand miles so that he might satisfy their curiosity.</p> - -<p>Chandler did not hesitate in telling them all about the people of -Orphalese. There was nothing worth concealing, he was quite sure. No -debts are owed to the dead; and the Orphalese had proved on their own -heads, at the last, that their ritual of pain was only an annoyance to -the possessors, not a tactic that could long be used against them.</p> - -<p>It took hardly five minutes to say everything that needed saying about -Guy, Meggie and the other doomed and suffering inhabitants of the old -house on the mountain.</p> - -<p>Koitska hardly spoke. The girl was his interrogator, and sometimes -translator as well, when his English was not sufficient to comprehend -a point. With patient detachment she kept the story moving until -Koitska with a bored shrug indicated he was through.</p> - -<p>Then she smiled at Chandler and said, "Thanks, love. Haven't I seen you -somewhere before?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I thought the same thing about you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, everybody's seen me. Lots of me. But—well, no matter. Good luck, -love. Be nice to Koitska and perhaps he'll do as much for you." And she -was gone.</p> - -<p>Koitska lay unmoving on his couch for a few moments, rubbing a fat nose -with a plump finger. "Hah," he said at last. Then, abruptly, "And now, -de qvestion is, vot to do vit you, eh? I do not t'ink you can cook, eh?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>With unexpected clarity Chandler realized he was on trial for his life. -"Cook? No, I'm afraid not. I mean, I can boil eggs," he said. "Nothing -fancy."</p> - -<p>"Hah," grumbled Koitska. "Vel. Ve need a couple, three doctors, but I -do not t'ink you vould do."</p> - -<p>Chandler shook his head. "I'm an electrical engineer," he said. "Or -was."</p> - -<p>"Vas?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't had much practice. There has not been a great deal of call -for engineers, the last year or two."</p> - -<p>"Hah." Koitska seemed to consider. "Vel," he said, "it could be ... -yes, it could be dat ve have a job for you. You go back downstairs -and—no, vait." The fat man closed his eyes and Chandler felt himself -seized and propelled down the stairs to what had once been a bay of a -built-in garage. Now it was fitted up with workbenches and the gear of -a radio ham's dreams.</p> - -<p>Chandler walked woodenly to one of the benches. His own voice spoke -to him. "Ve got here someplace—<i>da</i>, here is cirguit diagrams and de -specs for a sqvare-vave generator. You know vot dat is? Write down de -answer." Chandler, released with a pencil in his hand and a pad before -him, wrote <i>Yes</i>. "Okay. Den you build vun for me. I areddy got vun but -I vant another. You do dis in de city, not here. Go to Tripler, dey -tells you dere vere you can work, vere to get parts, all dat. Couple -days you come out here again, I see if I like how you build."</p> - -<p>Clutching the thick sheaf of diagrams, Chandler felt himself propelled -outside and back into the little car. The interview was over.</p> - -<p>He wondered if he would be able to find his way back to Honolulu, but -that problem was then postponed as he discovered he could not start the -car. His own hands had already done so, of course, but it had been so -quick and sure that he had not paid attention; now he found that the -ignition key was marked only in French, which he could not speak. After -trial and error he discovered the combination that would start the -engine and unlock the steering wheel, and then gingerly he toured the -perimeter of the lot until he found an exit road.</p> - -<p>It was close to midnight, he judged. Stars were shining overhead; there -was a rising moon. He then remembered, somewhat tardily, that he should -not be seeing stars. The lane he had come in on had been overhung on -both sides with trees.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later he realized he was quite lost.</p> - -<p>Chandler stopped the car, swore feelingly, got out and looked around.</p> - -<p>There was nothing much to see. The roads bore no markers that made -sense to him. He shrugged and rummaged through the glove compartment -on the chance of a map; there was none, but he did find what he had -almost forgotten, a half-empty pack of cigarettes. It had been—he -counted—nearly a week since he had smoked. He lit up.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a pleasant evening, too. He felt almost relaxed. He stood there, -wondering just what might be about to happen next—with curiosity more -than fear—and then he felt a light touch at his mind.</p> - -<p>It was nothing, really. Or nothing that he could quite identify. It was -though he had been nudged. It seemed that someone was about to usurp -his body again, but that did not develop.</p> - -<p>As he had about decided to forget it and get back in the car he saw -headlights approaching.</p> - -<p>A low, lean sports car slowed as it came near, stopping beside him, and -a girl leaned out, almost invisible in the darkness. "There you are, -love," she said cheerfully. "Thought I spotted someone. Lost?"</p> - -<p>She had a coronet, and Chandler recognized her. It was the girl who had -interrogated him. "I guess I am," he admitted.</p> - -<p>The girl leaned forward. "Come in, dear. Oh, that thing? Leave it here, -the silly little bug." She giggled as they drove away from the Renault. -"Koitska wouldn't like you wandering around. I guess he decided to give -you a job?"</p> - -<p>"How did you know?"</p> - -<p>She said softly, "Well, love, you're here, you know. Otherwise—never -mind. What are you supposed to be doing?"</p> - -<p>"Going to Tripler, whatever that is. In Honolulu, I guess. Then I have -to build some radio equipment."</p> - -<p>"Tripler's actually on the other side of the city. I'll take you to the -gate; then you tell them where you want to go. They'll take care of it."</p> - -<p>"I don't have any money for fare."</p> - -<p>She laughed. After a moment she said, "Koitska's not the worst. But I'd -mind my step if I were you, love. Do what he says, the best you can. -You never know. You might find yourself very fortunate...."</p> - -<p>"I already think that. I'm alive."</p> - -<p>"Why, love, that point of view will take you far." The sports car slid -smoothly to a stop at the barricade and, in the floodlights above the -machine-gun nests, she looked more closely at Chandler. "What's that on -your forehead, dear?"</p> - -<p>Somehow the woolen cap had been lost. "A brand," he said shortly. "'H' -for 'hoaxer.' I did something when one of you people had me, and they -thought I'd done it on my own."</p> - -<p>"Why—why, this is wonderful!" the girl said excitedly. "No wonder I -thought I'd seen you before. Don't you remember? I was in the forewoman -at your trial!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">VII</p> - -<p>A pink and silver bus let Chandler off at Fort Street in downtown -Honolulu and he walked a few blocks to the address he had been given. -The name of the place was Parts 'n Plenty. He found it easily enough. -It was a radio parts store; by the size of it, it had once been a big, -well-stocked one; but now the counters were almost bare.</p> - -<p>A thin-faced man with khaki-colored skin looked up and nodded. Chandler -nodded back. He fingered a bin of tuning knobs, hefted a coil of -two-strand antenna wire and said, "A fellow at Tripler told me to come -here to pick up equipment, but I'm damned if I know what I'm supposed -to do when I locate it. I don't have any money."</p> - -<p>The dark-skinned man got up and came over to him. "Figured you for a -mainlander. No sweat. Have you got a list?"</p> - -<p>"I can make one."</p> - -<p>"All right. Catalogues on the table behind you, if you want them." He -offered Chandler a cigarette and sat against the edge of the counter, -reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's -square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man -grinned. "Every couple months he sends somebody along. He doesn't -really need the generator, you know. He just wants to see how much you -know about building it, Mr.—?"</p> - -<p>"Chandler."</p> - -<p>"Glad to know you. I'm John Hsi. But don't go easy on the job just -because it's a waste of time, Chandler; it could be pretty important to -you."</p> - -<p>Chandler absorbed the information silently and handed over his list. -The man did not look at it. "Come back in about an hour," he said.</p> - -<p>"I won't have any money in an hour, either."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's all right. I'll put it on Koitska's bill."</p> - -<p>Chandler said frankly, "Look, I don't know what's going on. Suppose I -came in and picked up a thousand dollars' worth of stuff, would you put -that on the bill, too?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly," said Hsi optimistically. "You thinking about stealing -them? What would you do with them?"</p> - -<p>"Well...." Chandler puffed on his cigarette. "Well, I could—"</p> - -<p>"No, you couldn't. Also, it wouldn't pay, believe me," Hsi said -seriously. "If there is one thing that doesn't pay, it is cheating on -the Exec."</p> - -<p>"Now, that's another good question," said Chandler. "Who is the Exec?"</p> - -<p>Hsi shook his head. "Sorry. I don't know you, Chandler."</p> - -<p>"You mean you're afraid even to answer a question?"</p> - -<p>"You're damned well told I am. Probably nobody would mind what I might -tell you ... but 'probably' isn't good enough."</p> - -<p>Exasperated, Chandler said, "How the devil am I supposed to know what -to do next? So I take all this junk back to my room at Tripler and -solder up the generator—then what?"</p> - -<p>"Then Koitska will get in touch with you," Hsi said, not unkindly. -"Play it as it comes to you, Chandler, that's the best advice I can -offer." He hesitated. "Koitska's not the worst of them," he said; and -then, daringly, "and maybe he's not the best, either. Just do whatever -he told you. Keep on doing it until he tells you to do something else. -That's all. I mean, that's all the advice I can give you. Whether it's -going to be enough to satisfy Koitska is something else again."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There is not much to do in a strange town when you have no money. -Chandler's room at what once had been Tripler General Hospital was -free; the bus was free; evidently all the radio parts he could want -were also free. But he did not have the price of a cup of coffee or a -haircut in the pockets of the suntan slacks the desk man at Tripler -had issued him. He wandered around the streets of Honolulu, waiting for -the hour to be up.</p> - -<p>At Tripler a doctor had also examined his scar and it was now concealed -under a neat white bandage; he had been fed; he had bathed; he had been -given new clothes. Tripler was a teeming metropolis in itself, a main -building some ten stories high, a scattering of outbuildings connected -to it by covered passages, with thousands of men and women busy about -it. Chandler had spoken to a good many of them in the hour after waking -up and before boarding the bus to Honolulu, and none of them had been -free with information either.</p> - -<p>Honolulu had not suffered greatly under the rule of the Exec. -Remembering the shattered stateside cities, Chandler thought that this -one had been spared nearly all the suffering of the rule of the world -by the Exec, whoever they were. Dawdling down King Street, in the -aromatic reek of the fish markets, Chandler could have thought himself -in any port city before the grisly events of that Christmas when the -planet went possessed. Crabs waved sluggishly at him from bins. Great -pink-scaled fish rested on nests of ice, waiting to be sold. Smells of -frying food came from half a dozen restaurants. It was only the people -who were different. There was a solid sprinkling of those who, like -himself, were dressed in insigneless former Army uniforms—obviously -conscripts on Exec errands—and a surprising minority who, from -overheard snatches of conversation, had come from countries other than -the U.S.A. Russian mostly, Chandler guessed; but Russian or U.S., -wearing suntans or aloha shirts, everyone he saw was marked by the -visible signs of strain. There was no laughter.</p> - -<p>Chandler saw a clock within the door of a restaurant; half an hour -still to kill. He turned and wandered up, away from the water, toward -the visible bulk of the hills; and in a moment he saw what made -Honolulu's collective face wear its careworn frown.</p> - -<p>It was an open square—perhaps it had once been a war memorial—and in -the center of it was a fenced-off paved area where people seemed to be -resting. It struck Chandler as curious that so many persons should have -decided to take a nap on what surely was an uncomfortable bed of flat -concrete; he approached and saw that they were not resting. Not only -his eyes but his ears conveyed the message—and his nose, too, for the -mild air was fetid with blood and rot.</p> - -<p>These were not sleeping men and women. Some were dead; some were -unconscious; all were maimed. The pavement was slimed with their blood. -None had the strength to scream, but several were moaning and even -some of the unconscious ones gasped like the breathing of a man in -diabetic coma. Passersby walked briskly around the metal fence, and if -their glances were curious it was at Chandler they looked, not at the -tortured wrecks before them. He understood that the sight of the dying -men and women was familiar—was painful—and thus was ignored; it was -himself who was the curiosity, for staring at them. He turned and -fled, trying not to vomit.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was still shaken when he returned to Parts 'n Plenty. The hour -was up but Hsi shook his head. "Not yet. You can sit down over there -if you like." Chandler slumped into the indicated swivel chair and -stared blankly at the wall. This was far worse than anything he had -seen stateside. The random terror of murders and bombs was at least a -momentary thing, and when it was done it was done. This was sustained -torture. He buried his head in his hands and did not look up until he -heard the sound of a door opening.</p> - -<p>Hsi, his face somehow different, was manipulating a lever on the -outside of a door while a man inside, becoming visible as the door -opened, was doing the same from within. It looked as though the lock on -the door would not work unless both levers operated; and the man on the -inside, whom Chandler had not seen before, was dressed, oddly, only in -bathing trunks. His face wore the same expression as Hsi's. Chandler -guessed (with practice it was becoming easy!) that both were possessed.</p> - -<p>The man inside wheeled out two shopping carts loaded with electronic -equipment of varying kinds, wordlessly received some empty ones from -Hsi; and the door closed on him again.</p> - -<p>Hsi tugged the lever down, turned, blinked and said, "All right, -Chandler. Your stuff's here."</p> - -<p>Chandler approached. "What was that all about?"</p> - -<p>"Go to hell!" Hsi said with sudden violence. "I—Oh never mind. Sorry. -But I told you already, ask somebody else your questions, not me." He -gloomily began to pack the items on Chandler's list into a cardboard -carton. Then he glanced at Chandler and said, apologetically, "These -are tough times, buddy. I guess there's no harm in answering <i>some</i> -questions. You want to know why most of my stock's locked behind an -armor-plate door? Well, you ought to be able to figure that out for -yourself, anyway. The Exec doesn't like to have people playing with -radios. Bert stays in the stockroom; I stay out here; twice a day the -bosses open the door and we fill whatever orders they've approved. A -little rough on Bert, of course. It's a ten-hour day in the stockroom -for him, and nothing to do. But it could be worse. Oh, that's for sure, -friend: It could be worse."</p> - -<p>"Why the bathing suit? Hot in there?"</p> - -<p>"Hot for Bert if they think he's smuggling stuff out," said Hsi. "You -been here long enough to see the Monument yet?"</p> - -<p>Chandler shook his head, then grimaced. "You mean up about three blocks -that way? Where the people—?"</p> - -<p>"That's right," said Hsi admiringly, "three blocks mauka from here, -where the people—Where the people are serving as a very good object -lesson to you and me. About a dozen there, right? Small for this time -of year, Chandler. Usually there are more. Notice anything special -about them?"</p> - -<p>"They were butchered! Some of them looked like their legs had been -burned right off. Their eyes gouged out, their faces—" Chandler -brought up sharply. It had been bad enough looking at those wretched, -writhing semi-cadavers; he did not want to talk about them.</p> - -<p>The parts man nodded seriously. "Sometimes there are more, and -sometimes they're worse hurt than that. Have you got any idea how they -get that way? They do it to themselves, that's how. My own brother was -out there for a week, last Statehood Day. He jumped feet first into a -concrete mixer, and it took him seven days to die after I put him on my -shoulder and carried him out there. I didn't like it, of course, but -I didn't exactly have any choice; I wasn't running my own body at the -time. Neither was he when he jumped. He was made to do it, because he -used to have Bert's job and he thought he'd take a little short-wave -set home. Like I said, you don't want to cheat on the Exec because it -doesn't pay."</p> - -<p>"But what the devil am I supposed to—"</p> - -<p>Hsi held up his hand. "Don't ask me how to keep out of that Monument -bunch, Chandler. <i>I</i> don't know. Do what you're told and don't do -anything you aren't told to do; that is the whole of the law. Now do me -a favor and get out of here so I can pack up these other orders." He -turned his back on Chandler.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">VIII</p> - -<p>By the morning of the fourth day on the island of Oahu, Chandler had -learned enough of the ropes to have signed a money-chit at the Tripler -currency office against Koitska's account.</p> - -<p>That was about all he had learned, except for a few practical matters -like where meals were served and the location of the fresh-water -swimming pool at the back of the grounds. He was killing time using the -pool when, in the middle of a jacknife from the ten-foot board, he felt -himself seized. He sprawled into the water with a hard splashing slap, -threshed about and, as he came to the surface, found himself giggling.</p> - -<p>"Sorry, dear," he apologized to himself, "but we don't carry our weight -in the same places, you know. Get that square-what'sit thingamajig, -like an angel, and meet me in front by the flagpole in twenty minutes."</p> - -<p>He recognized the voice, even if his own vocal chords had made it. It -was the girl who had driven him back from the interview with Koitska, -the one who had casually announced she had saved his life at his -hoaxing trial. Chandler swam to the side of the pool and toweled as he -trotted toward his quarters. She was from Koitska now, of course; which -meant that his "test" was about to be graded.</p> - -<p>Quickly though he dressed, she was there before him, standing beside a -low-slung sports car and chatting with one of the groundskeepers. An -armful of leis dangled beside her, and although she wore the coronet -which was evidence of her status the gardener did not seem to fear -her. "Come along, love," she called to Chandler. "Koitska wants your -thingummy. Chuck it in the trunk if it'll fit, and we'll head waikiki -wikiwiki. Don't I say that nicely? But I only fool the malihinis, like -you."</p> - -<p>She chattered away as the little car dug its rear wheels into the drive -and leaped around the green and out the gate.</p> - -<p>The wind howled by them, the sun was bright, the sky was piercingly -blue. Riding next to this beautiful girl, it was hard for Chandler to -remember that she was one of those who had destroyed his world. It was -a terrible thing to have so much hatred and to feel it so diluted. -Not even Koitska seemed a terrible enough enemy to accept such a load -of detestation; it was hate without an object, and it recoiled on the -hater, leaving him turgid and constrained. If he could not hate his -onetime friend Jack Souther for defiling and destroying his wife, it -was almost as hard to hate Souther's anonymous possessor. It could -even have been Koitska. It could even have been this girl by his -side. In the strange, cruel fantasies with which the Execs indulged -themselves it was likely enough that they would sometimes assume the -body, and the role, of the opposite sex. Why not? Strange, ruthless -morality; it was impossible to evaluate it by any human standards.</p> - -<p>It was also impossible to think of hatred with her beside him. They -soared around Honolulu on a broad expressway and paralleled the beach -toward Waikiki. "Look, dear. Diamond Head! Mustn't ignore it—very bad -form—like not going to see the night-blooming cereus at the Punahou -School. You haven't missed that, have you?"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I have—"</p> - -<p>"Rosalie. Call me Rosalie, dear."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I have, Rosalie." For some reason the name sounded familiar.</p> - -<p>"Shame, oh, shame! They say it was wonderful night before last. Looks -like cactus to me, but—"</p> - -<p>Chandler's mental processes had worked to a conclusion. "Rosalie -<i>Pan</i>!" he said. "Now I know!"</p> - -<p>"Know what? You mean—" she swerved around a motionless Buick, parked -arrogantly five feet from the curb—"you mean you didn't know who I -was? And to think I used to pay five thousand a year for publicity."</p> - -<p>Chandler said, smiling, and almost relaxed, "I'm sorry, but musical -comedies weren't my strong point. I did see you once, though, on -television. Then, let's see, wasn't there something about you -disappearing—"</p> - -<p>She nodded, glancing at him. "There sure was, dear. I almost froze to -death getting out to that airport. Of course, it was worth it, I found -out later. If I hadn't been took, as they say, I would've been dead, -because you remember what happened to New York about an hour later."</p> - -<p>"You must have had some friends," Chandler began, and let it trail off. -So did the girl. After a moment she began to talk about the scenery -again, pointing out the brick-red and purple bougainvillea, describing -how the shoreline had looked before they'd "cleaned it up." "Oh, -thousands and thousands of the <i>homeliest</i> little houses. You'd have -hated it. So we have done at least a few good things, anyway," she said -complacently, and began gently to probe into his life story. But as -they stopped before the TWA message center, a few moments later, she -said, "Well, love, it's been fun. Go on in; Koitska's expecting you. -I'll see you later." And her eyes added gently: <i>I hope</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler got out of the car, turned ... and felt himself taken. His -voice said briskly, "<i>Zdrastvoi, Rosie. Gd'yeh Koitska?</i>"</p> - -<p>Unsurprised the girl pointed to the building. "<i>Kto govorit?</i>"</p> - -<p>Chandler's voice answered in English, with a faint Oxford accent: -"It is I, Rosie, Kalman. Where's Koitska's tinkertoy? Oh, all right, -thanks; I'll just pick it up and take it in. Hope it's all right. I -must say one wearies of breaking in these new fellows."</p> - -<p>Chandler's body ambled around to the trunk of the car, took out the -square-wave generator on its breadboard base and slouched into the -building. It called ahead in the same language and was answered -wheezily from above: Koitska. "<i>Zdrastvoi. Iditye suda ko mneh. Kto, -Kalman?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Konyekhno!</i>" cried Chandler's voice and he was carried in and up to -where the fat man lounged in a leather-upholstered wheel-chair. There -was a conversation, long minutes of it, while the two men poked at -the generator. Chandler did not understand a word until he spoke to -himself: "You—what's your name."</p> - -<p>"Chandler," Koitska filled in.</p> - -<p>"You, Chandler. D'you know anything at all about submillimeter -microwaves? Tell Koitska." Briefly Chandler felt himself free—long -enough to nod; then he was possessed again, and Koitska repeated the -nod. "Good, then. Tell Koitska what experience you've had."</p> - -<p>Again free, Chandler said, "Not a great deal of actual experience. I -worked with a group at Caltech on spectroscopic measurements in the -million megacycle range. I didn't design any of the equipment, though I -helped put it together." He recited his degrees until Koitska raised a -languid hand.</p> - -<p>"<i>Shto</i>, I don't care. If ve gave you diagrams you could build?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, if I had the equipment. I suppose I'd need—"</p> - -<p>But Koitska stopped him again. "I know vot you need," he said damply. -"Enough. Ve see." In a moment Chandler was taken again, and his voice -and Koitska's debated the matter for a while, until Koitska shrugged, -turned his head and seemed to go to sleep.</p> - -<p>Chandler marched himself out of the room and out into the driveway -before his voice said to him: "You've secured a position, then. Go back -to Tripler until we send for you. It'll be a few days, I expect."</p> - -<p>And Chandler was free again.</p> - -<p>He was also alone. The girl in the Porsche was gone. The door of the -TWA building had latched itself behind him. He stared around him, -swore, shrugged and circled the building to the parking lot at back, on -the chance that a car might be there for him to borrow.</p> - -<p>Luckily, there was. There were four, in fact, all with keys in them. He -selected a Ford, puzzled out the likeliest road back to Honolulu and -turned the key in the starter.</p> - -<p>It was fortunate, he thought, that there had been several cars; if -there had been only one he would not have dared to take it, for fear of -stranding Koitska or some other exec who might easily blot him out in -annoyance. He did not wish to join the wretches at the Monument.</p> - -<p>It was astonishing how readily fear had become a part of his life.</p> - -<p>The trouble with this position he had somehow secured—one of the -troubles—was that there was no union delegate to settle employee -grievances. Like no transportation. Like no clear idea of working -hours, or duties. Like no mention at all—of course—of wages. Chandler -had no idea what his rights were, if any at all, or of what the -penalties would be if he overstepped them.</p> - -<p>The maimed victims at the Monument supplied a clue, of course. He could -not really believe that that sort of punishment would be applied for -minor infractions. Death was so much less trouble. Even death was not -really likely, he thought, for a simple lapse.</p> - -<p>He <i>thought</i>.</p> - -<p>He could not be sure, of course. He could be sure of only one thing: -He was now a slave, completely a slave, a slave until the day he -died. Back on the mainland there was the statistical likelihood of -occasional slavery-by-possession, but there it was only the body that -was enslaved, and only for moments. Here, in the shadow of the execs, -it was all of him, forever, until death or a miracle turned him loose.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the second day following he returned to his room at Tripler after -breakfast, and found a Honolulu city policeman sitting hollow-eyed on -the edge of his bed. The man stood up as Chandler came in. "So," he -grumbled, "you take so long! Here. Is diagrams, specs, parts lists, -all. You get everything three days from now, then we begin."</p> - -<p>The policeman, no longer Koitska, shook himself, glanced stolidly -at Chandler and walked out, leaving a thick manila envelope on the -pillow. On it was written, in a crabbed hand: <i>All secret! Do not show -diagrams!</i></p> - -<p>Chandler opened the envelope and spilled its contents on the bed.</p> - -<p>An hour later he realized that sixty minutes had passed in which he had -not been afraid. It was good to be working again, he thought, and then -that thought faded away again as he returned to studying the sheaves of -circuit diagrams and closely typed pages of specifications. It was not -only work, it was hard work, and absorbing. Chandler knew enough about -the very short wavelength radio spectrum to know that the device he was -supposed to build was no proficiency test; this was for real. The more -he puzzled over it the less he could understand of its purpose. There -was a transmitter and there was a receiver. Astonishingly, neither was -directional: that ruled out radar, for example. He rejected immediately -the thought that the radiation was for spectrum analysis, as in the -Caltech project—unfortunate, because that was the only application -with which he had first-hand familiarity; but impossible. The thing -was too complicated. Nor could it be a simple message transmitter—no, -perhaps it could, assuming there was a reason for using the -submillimeter bands instead of the conventional, far simpler short-wave -spectrum. Could it? The submillimeter waves were line-of-sight, of -course, but would ionosphere scatter make it possible for them to -cover great distances? He could not remember. Or was that irrelevant, -since perhaps they needed only to cover the distances between islands -in their own archipelago? But then, why all the power? And in any case, -what about this fantastic switching panel, hundreds of square feet of -it even though it was transistorized and subminiaturized and involving -at least a dozen sophisticated technical refinements he hadn't the -training quite to understand? AT&T could have handled every phone call -in the United States with less switching than this—in the days when -telephone systems spanned a nation instead of a fraction of a city. He -pushed the papers together in a pile and sat back, smoking a cigarette, -trying to remember what he could of the theory behind submillimeter -radiation.</p> - -<p>At half a million megacycles and up, the domain of quantum theory began -to be invaded. Rotating gas molecules, constricted to a few energy -states, responded directly to the radio waves. Chandler remembered -late-night bull sessions in Pasadena during which it had been pointed -out that the possibilities in the field were enormous—although only -possibilities, for there was no engineering way to reach them, and -no clear theory to point the way—suggesting such strange ultimate -practical applications as the receiverless radio, for example. Was that -what he had here?</p> - -<p>He gave up. It was a question that would burn at him until he found the -answer, but just now he had work to do, and he'd better be doing it.</p> - -<p>Skipping lunch entirely, he carefully checked the components lists, -made a copy of what he would need, checked the original envelope and -its contents with the man at the main receiving desk for his safe, and -caught the bus to Honolulu.</p> - -<p>At the Parts 'n Plenty store, Hsi read the list with a faint frown that -turned into a puzzled scowl. When he put it down he looked at Chandler -for a few moments without speaking.</p> - -<p>"Well, Hsi? Can you get all this for me?" The parts man shrugged and -nodded. "Koitska said in three days."</p> - -<p>Hsi looked startled, then resigned. "That puts it right up to me, -doesn't it? All right. Wait a moment."</p> - -<p>He disappeared in the back of the store, where Chandler heard him -talking on what was evidently an intercom system. He came back in a -few minutes and slipped Chandler's list into a slit in the locked -door. "Tough for Bert," he said. "He'll be working all night, getting -started—but I can take it easy till tomorrow. By then he'll know what -we don't have, and I'll find some way to get it." He shrugged again, -but his face was lined. Chandler wondered how one went about finding, -for example, a thirty megawatt klystron tube; but it was Hsi's problem. -He said:</p> - -<p>"All right, I'll see you Monday."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, Chandler." Hsi eyed him. "You don't have anything -special to do, do you? Well, come have dinner with me. Maybe I can get -to know you. Then maybe I can answer some of your questions, if you -like."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They took a bus out Kapiolani Boulevard, then got out and walked a -few blocks to a restaurant named Mother Chee's. Hsi was well known -there, it seemed. He led Chandler to a booth at the back, nodded to -the waiter, ordered without looking at the menu and sat back. "You -malihinis don't know much about food," he said, humorously patronizing. -"I think you'll like it. It's all fish, anyway."</p> - -<p>The man was annoying. Chandler was moved to say, "Too bad, I was hoping -for duck in orange sauce, perhaps some snow peas—"</p> - -<p>Hsi shook his head. "There's meat, all right, but not here. You'll -only find it in the places where the execs sometimes go.... Tell me -something, Chandler. What's that scar on your forehead."</p> - -<p>Chandler touched it, almost with surprise. Since the medics had treated -it he had almost forgotten it was there. He began to explain, then -paused, looking at Hsi, and changed his mind. "What's the score? You -testing me, too? Want to see if I'll lie about it?"</p> - -<p>Hsi grinned. "Sorry. I guess that's what I was doing. I do know what an -'H' stands for; we've seen them before. Not many. The ones that do get -this far usually don't last long. Unless, of course, they are working -for somebody whom it wouldn't do to offend," he explained.</p> - -<p>"So what you want to know, then, is whether I was really hoaxing or -not. Does it make any difference?"</p> - -<p>"Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!" -Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow, -as he observed his own vehemence.</p> - -<p>"Sorry, Hsi. It makes a difference to me, too. Well, I wasn't hoaxing. -I was possessed, just like any other everyday rapist-murderer, only I -couldn't prove it. And it didn't look too good for me, because the -damn thing happened in a pharmaceuticals plant. That was supposed to be -about the only place in town where you could be sure you wouldn't be -possessed, or so everybody thought. Including me. Up to the time I went -ape."</p> - -<p>Hsi nodded. The waiter approached with their drinks. Hsi looked at -him appraisingly, then did a curious thing. He gripped his left wrist -with his right hand, quickly, then released it again. The waiter did -not appear to notice. Expertly he served the drinks, folded small pink -floral napkins, dumped and wiped their ashtray in one motion—and then, -so quickly that Chandler was not quite sure he had seen it, caught -Hsi's wrist in the same fleeting gesture just before he turned and -walked away.</p> - -<p>Without comment Hsi turned back to Chandler. He said, "I believe you. -Would you like to know why it happened? Because I think I can tell you. -The execs have all the antibiotics they need now."</p> - -<p>"You mean—" Chandler hesitated.</p> - -<p>"That's right. They did leave some areas alone, as long as they weren't -fully stocked on everything they might want for the foreseeable future. -Wouldn't you?"</p> - -<p>"I might," Chandler said cautiously, "if I knew what I was—being an -exec."</p> - -<p>Hsi said, "Eat your dinner. I'll take a chance and tell you what I -know." He swallowed his whiskey-on-the-rocks with a quick backward jerk -of the head. "They're mostly Russians—you must know that much for -yourself. The whole thing started in Russia."</p> - -<p>Chandler said, "Well, that's pretty obvious. But Russia was smashed -up as much as anywhere else. The whole Russian government was -killed—wasn't it?"</p> - -<p>Hsi nodded. "They're not the government. Not the exec. Communism -doesn't mean any more to them than the Declaration of Independence -does—which is nothing. It's very simple, Chandler: they're a project -that got out of hand."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Back four years ago, he said, in Russia, it started in the last days -of the Second Stalinite Regime, before the Neo-Krushchevists took over -power in the January Push.</p> - -<p>The Western World had not known exactly what was going on, of course. -The "mystery wrapped in a riddle surrounded by an enigma" had become -queerer and even more opaque after Kruschchev's death and the revival -of such fine old Soviet institutions as the Gay Pay Oo. That was the -development called the Freeze, when the Stalinites seized control -in the name of the sacred Generalissimo of the Soviet Fatherland, a -mighty-missile party, dedicated to bringing about the world revolution -by force of sputnik. The neo-Krushchevists, on the other hand, believed -that honey caught more flies than vinegar; and, although there were few -visible adherents to that philosophy during the purges of the Freeze, -they were not all dead. Then, out of the Donbas Electrical Workshop, -came sudden support for their point of view.</p> - -<p>It was a weapon. It was more than a weapon, an irresistable tool—more -than that, the way to end all disputes forever. It was a simple radio -transmitter (Hsi said)—or so it seemed, but its frequencies were on -an unusual band and its effects were remarkable. It controlled the -minds of men. The "receiver" was the human brain. Through this little -portable transmitter, surgically patch-wired to the brain of the person -operating it, his entire personality was transmitted in a pattern of -very short waves which could invade and modulate the personality of any -other human being in the world. For that matter, of any animal, as long -as the creature had enough "mind" to seize—</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" Hsi interrupted himself, staring at Chandler. -Chandler had stopped eating, his hand frozen midway to his mouth. He -shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Nothing. Go on." Hsi shrugged and continued.</p> - -<p>While the Western World was celebrating Christmas—the Christmas before -the first outbreak of possession in the outside world—the man who -invented the machine was secretly demonstrating it to another man. Both -of them were now dead. The inventor had been a Pole, the other man a -former Party leader who, four years before, had rescued the inventor's -dying father from a Siberian work camp. The Party leader had reason to -congratulate himself on that loaf cast on the water. There were only -three working models of the transmitter—what ultimately was refined -into the coronet Chandler had seen on the heads of Koitska and the -girl—but that was enough for the January push.</p> - -<p>The Stalinites were out. The neo-Krushchevists were in.</p> - -<p>A whole factory in the Donbas was converted to manufacturing these -little mental controllers as fast as they could be produced—and -that was fast, for they were simple in design to begin with and were -quickly refined to a few circuits. Even the surgical wiring to the -brain became unnecessary as induction coils tapped the encephalic -rhythms. Only the great amplifying hookup was really complicated. Only -one of those was necessary, for a single amplifier could serve as -re-broadcaster—modulator for thousands of the headsets.</p> - -<p>"Are you sure you're all right?" Hsi demanded.</p> - -<p>Chandler put down his fork, lit a cigarette and beckoned to the waiter. -"I'm all right. I just want another drink."</p> - -<p>He needed the drink. For now he knew what he was building for Koitska.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The waiter brought two more drinks and carried away the uneaten food. -"We don't know exactly who did what after that," Hsi said, "but -somehow or other it got out of hand. I think it was the technical -crew of the factory that took over. I suppose it was an inevitable -danger." He grinned savagely. "I can just imagine the Party workers -in the factory," he said, "trying to figure out how to keep them in -line—bribe them or terrify them? Give them dachas or send a quota -to Siberia? Neither would work, of course, because there isn't any -bribe you can give to a man who only has to stretch out his hand to -take over the world, and you can't frighten a man who can make you -slit your own throat. Anyway, the next thing that happened—the -following Christmas—was when they took over the world. It wasn't a -Party movement at all any more. A lot of the workers were Czechs and -Hungarians and Poles, and the first thing they wanted to do was to -even a few scores.</p> - -<p>"So here they are! Before they let the whole world go bang they got out -of range. They got themselves out of Russia on two Red Navy cruisers, -about a thousand of them; then they systematically triggered off every -ballistic missile they could find ... and they could find all of them, -sooner or later, it was just a matter of looking. As soon as it was -safe they moved in here. Best place in the world for them.</p> - -<p>"There are only a thousand or so of them here on the Islands, and -nobody outside the Islands even knows where they are. If they did, what -good would it do them? They can kill anyone, anywhere. They kill for -fun, but sometimes they kill for a reason too. When one of them goes -wandering for kicks he makes it a point to mess up all the transport -and communications facilities he comes across—especially now, since -they've stockpiled everything they're likely to need for the next -twenty years. We don't know what they're planning to do when the twenty -years are up. Maybe they don't care. Would you?"</p> - -<p>Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said. -"Who's 'we'?"</p> - -<p>Hsi carefully unwrapped a package of cigarettes, took one out and lit -it. He looked at it as though he were not enjoying it; cigarettes had a -way of tasting stale these days. As they were. "Just a minute," he said.</p> - -<p>Tardily Chandler remembered the quick grasp of the waiter's fingers on -Hsi's wrist, and that the waiter had been hovering, inconspicuously -close, all through their meal. Hsi was waiting for the man to return.</p> - -<p>In a moment the waiter was back, looking directly at Chandler. He -looped his own wrist with his fingers and nodded. Hsi said softly, -"'We' is the Society of Slaves. That's all of us—slaves—but only a -few of us belong to the Society. We—"</p> - -<p>There was a crash of glass. The waiter had dropped their tray.</p> - -<p>Across the table from Chandler, Hsi looked suddenly changed. His left -hand lay on the table before him, his right hand poised over it. -Apparently he had been about to show Chandler again the sign he had -made.</p> - -<p>But he could not do it. His hand paused and fluttered, like a captured -bird. Captured it was. Hsi was captured. Out of Hsi's mouth, with -Hsi's voice, came the light, tonal rhythms of Rosalie Pan. "<i>This</i> -is an unexpected pleasure, love! I never expected to see you here. -Enjoying your meal?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">IX</p> - -<p>Chandler had his empty glass halfway to his lips, automatically, before -he realized there was nothing in it to brace him. He said hoarsely, -"Yes, thanks. Do you come here often?" It was like the banal talk of a -language guide, wildly inappropriate to what had been going on a moment -before. He was shaken.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I love it," cooed Hsi, investigating the dishes before him. "All -finished, I see. Too bad. Your friend doesn't feel like he ate much, -either."</p> - -<p>"I guess he wasn't hungry," Chandler managed.</p> - -<p>"Well, I am." Hsi cocked his head and smiled like a female -impersonator. "I know! Are you doing anything special right now, love? -I know you've eaten, but—well, I've been a good girl and I guess I can -eat a real meal, I mean not with somebody else's teeth, and still keep -the calories in line. Suppose I meet you down at the Beach? There's a -place there where the luau is divine. I can be there in half an hour."</p> - -<p>Chandler's breathing was back to normal. Why not? "I'll be delighted."</p> - -<p>"Luigi the Wharf Rat, that's the name of it. They won't let you in, -though, unless you tell them you're with me. It's special." Hsi's eye -closed in Rosalie Pan's wink. "Half an hour," Hsi said, and was again -himself. He began to shake.</p> - -<p>The waiter brought him straight whiskey and, pretense abandoned, stood -by while Hsi drank it. After a moment he said, "Scares you. But—I -guess we're all right. She couldn't have heard much. You'd better go, -Chandler. I'll talk to you again some other time."</p> - -<p>Chandler stood up. But he couldn't leave Hsi like that. "Are you all -right?"</p> - -<p>Hsi almost managed control. "Oh—I think so. Not the first time it's -come close, you know. Sooner or later it'll come closer still, and that -will be the end, but—yes, I'm all right for now."</p> - -<p>Chandler tarried. "You were saying something about the Society of -Slaves."</p> - -<p>"Damn it, go!" Hsi barked. "She'll be waiting for you.... Sorry, -I didn't mean to shout. But go." As Chandler turned, he said more -quietly, "Come around to the store tomorrow. Maybe we can finish our -talk then."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Luigi the Wharf Rat's was not actually on the beach but on the bank of -a body of water called the Ala Wai Canal. Across the water were the -snowtopped hills. A maitre-de escorted Chandler personally to a table -on a balcony, and there he waited. Rosalie's "half-hour" was nearly -two; but then he heard her calling him from across the room, in the -voice which had reached a thousand second balconies, and he rose as she -came near.</p> - -<p>She said lightly, "Sorry. You ought to be flattered, though. It's a -twenty-minute drive—and an hour and a half to put on my face, so you -won't be ashamed to be seen with me. Well, it's good to be out in my -own skin for a change. Let's eat!"</p> - -<p>The talk with Hsi had left a mark on Chandler that not even this girl's -pretty face could obscure. It was a pretty face, though, and she was -obviously exerting herself to make him enjoy himself. He could not help -responding to her mood.</p> - -<p>She talked of her life on the stage, the excitement of a performance, -the entertainers she had known. Her conversation was one long -name-drop, but it was not pretense: the world of the famous was the -world she had lived in. It was not a world that Chandler had ever -visited, but he recognized the names. Rosie had been married once to -an English actor whose movies Chandler had made a point of watching on -television. It was interesting, in a way, to know that the man snored -and lived principally on vitamin pills. But it was a view of the man -that Chandler had not sought.</p> - -<p>The restaurant drew its clientele mostly from the execs, young ones or -young-acting ones, like the girl. The coronets were all over. There had -been a sign on the door:</p> - -<p class="ph3">KAPU, WALIHINI!</p> - -<p>to mark it off limits to anyone not an exec or a collaborator. Still, -Chandler thought, who on the island was not a collaborator? The only -effective resistance a man could make would be to kill everyone -within reach and then himself, thus depriving them of slaves—and -that was, after all, only what the execs themselves had done in other -places often enough. It would inconvenience them only slightly. The -next few planeloads or shiploads of possessed warm bodies from the -mainland would be permitted to live, instead of being required to dash -themselves to destruction, like the crew of the airplane that had -carried Chandler. Thus the domestic stocks would be replenished.</p> - -<p>An annoying feature of dining with Rosalie in the flesh, Chandler -found, was that half a dozen times while they were talking he found -himself taken, speaking words to Rosie that were not his own, usually -in a language he did not understand. She took it as a matter of -course. It was merely a friend, across the room or across the island, -using Chandler as the casual convenience of a telephone. "Sorry," she -apologized blithely after it happened for the third time, and then -stopped. "You don't like that, love, do you?"</p> - -<p>"Can you blame me?" He stopped himself from saying more; he was -astonished even so at his tone.</p> - -<p>She said it for him. "I know. It takes away your manhood, I suppose. -Please don't let it do that to you, love. We're not so bad. Even—" -She hesitated, and did not go on. "You know," she said, "I came here -the same way you did. Kidnaped off the stage of the Winter Garden. Of -course, the difference was the one who kidnaped me was an old friend. -Though I didn't know it at the time and it scared me half to death."</p> - -<p>Chandler must have looked startled. She nodded. "You've been thinking -of us as another race, haven't you? Like the Neanderthals or—well, -worse than that, maybe." She smiled. "We're not. About half of us -came from Russia in the first place, but the others are from all over. -You'd be astonished, really." She mentioned several names, world-famous -scientists, musicians, writers. "Of course, not everybody can qualify -for the club, love. Wouldn't be exclusive otherwise. The chief rule -is loyalty. I'm loyal," she added gently after a moment, "and don't -you forget it. Have to be. Whoever becomes an exec has to be with us, -all the way. There are tests. It has to be that way—not only for our -protection. For the world's."</p> - -<p>Chandler was genuinely startled at that. Rosie nodded seriously. "If -one exec should give away something he's not supposed to it would upset -the whole applecart. There are only a thousand of us, and I guess -probably two billion of you, or nearly. The result would be complete -destruction."</p> - -<p>Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but -then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, -outnumbered though they were two million to one, could not fail to -triumph. The contest would not be in doubt. If the whole thousand execs -at once began systematically to kill and destroy, instead of merely -playing at it as the spirit moved them, they could all but end the -human race overnight. A man could be made to slash his throat in a -quarter of a minute. An exec, killing, killing, killing without pause, -could destroy his own two million enemies in an eight-hour day.</p> - -<p>And there were surer, faster ways. Chandler did not have to imagine -them, he had seen them. The massacre of the Orphalese, the victims at -the Monument—they were only crumbs of destruction. What had happened -to New York City showed what mass-production methods could do. No doubt -there were bombs left, even if only chemical ones. Shoot, stab, crash, -blow up; swallow poison, leap from window, slit throat. Every man a -murderer, at the touch of a mind from Hawaii; and if no one else was -near to murder, surely each man could find a victim in himself. In -one ravaging day mankind would cease to exist as a major force. In a -week the only survivors would be those in such faroff and hopelessly -impotent places that they were not worth the trouble of tracking down.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"You hate us, don't you?"</p> - -<p>Chandler paused and tried to find an answer. Rosie was not either -belligerent or mocking. She was only sympathetically trying to reach -his point of view. He shook his head silently.</p> - -<p>"Not meaning 'no'—meaning 'no comment'? Well, I don't blame you, love. -But do you see that we're not altogether a bad thing? It's bad that -there should be so much violence. In a way. Hasn't there always been -violence? And what were the alternatives? Until we came along the world -was getting ready to kill itself anyway."</p> - -<p>"There's a difference," Chandler mumbled. He was thinking of his wife. -He and Margot had loved each other as married couples do—without any -very great, searing compulsion; but with affection, with habit and -with sporadic passion. Chandler had not given much thought to the -whole, though he was aware of the parts, during the last years of his -marriage. It was only after Margot's murder that he had come to know -that the sum of those parts was a quite irreplaceable love.</p> - -<p>But Rosie was shaking her head. "The difference is all on our side. -Suppose Koitska's boss had never discovered the coronets. At any moment -one country might have got nervous and touched off the whole thing—not -carefully, the way we did it, with most of the really dirty missiles -fused safe and others landing where they were supposed to go. I mean, -touched off a <i>war</i>. The end, love. The bloody <i>finis</i>. The ones that -were killed at once would have been the lucky ones. No, love," she -said, in dead earnest, "we aren't the worst things that ever happened -to the world. Once the—well, the <i>bad</i> part—is over, people will -understand what we really are."</p> - -<p>"And what's that, exactly?"</p> - -<p>She hesitated, smiled and said modestly, "We're gods."</p> - -<p>It took Chandler's breath away—not because it was untrue, but because -it had never occurred to him that gods were aware of their deity.</p> - -<p>"We're gods, love, with the privilege of electing mortals to the club. -Don't judge us by anything that has gone before. Don't judge us by -anything. We are a New Thing. We don't have to conform to precedent -because we upset all precedents. From now on, to the end of time, the -rules will grow from us."</p> - -<p>She patted her lips briskly with a napkin and said, "Would you like to -see something? Let's take a little walk."</p> - -<p>She took him by the hand and led him across the room, out to a sundeck -on the other side of the restaurant. They were looking down on what had -once been a garden. There were people in it; Chandler was conscious of -sounds coming from them, and he was able to see that there were dozens -of them, perhaps a hundred, and that they all seemed to be wearing -suntans like his own.</p> - -<p>"From Tripler?" he guessed.</p> - -<p>"No, love. They pick out those clothes themselves. Stand there a -minute."</p> - -<p>The girl in the coronet walked out to the rail of the sundeck, where -pink and amber spotlights were playing on nothing. As she came into the -colored lights there was a sigh from the people in the garden. A man -walked forward with an armload of leis and deposited them on the ground -below the rail.</p> - -<p>They were <i>adoring</i> her.</p> - -<p>Rosalie stood gravely for a moment, then nodded and returned to -Chandler.</p> - -<p>"They began doing that about a year ago," she whispered to him, as a -murmur of disappointment came up from the crowd. "Their own idea. We -didn't know what they wanted at first, but they weren't doing any harm. -You see, love," she said softly, "we can make them do anything we like. -But we don't make them do that."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hours later, Chandler was not sure just how, they were in a light plane -flying high over the Pacific, clear out of sight of land. The moon was -gold above them, the ocean black beneath.</p> - -<p>Chandler stared down as the girl circled the plane, slipping lower -toward the water, silent and perplexed. But he was not afraid. He was -almost content. Rosie was good company—gay, cheerful—and she had -treasures to share. It had been an impulse of hers, a long drive in -her sports car and a quick, comfortable flight over the ocean to cap -the evening. It had been a pleasant impulse. He reflected gravely that -he could understand now how generations of country maidens had been -dazzled and despoiled. A touch of luxury was a great seducer.</p> - -<p>The coronet on the girl's body could catch his body at any moment. She -had only to think herself into his mind, and her will, flashed to a -relay station like the one he was building for Koitska, at loose in -infinity, could sweep into him and make him a puppet. If she chose, he -would open that door beside him and step out into a thousand feet of -air and a meal for the sharks.</p> - -<p>But he did not think she would do it. He did not think anyone would, -really, though with his own eyes he had seen some anyones do things as -bad as that and sickeningly worse. There was no corrupt whim of the -most diseased mind in history that some torpid exec had not visited -on a helpless man, woman or child in the past years. Even as they -flew here, Chandler knew, the gross bodies that lay in luxury in the -island's villas were surging restlessly around the world; and death and -horror remained where they had passed. It was a paradox too great to be -reconciled, this girl and this vileness. He could not forget it, but he -could not feel it in his glands. She was pretty. She was gay. He began -to think thoughts that had left him alone for a long time.</p> - -<p>The dark bulk of the island showed ahead and they were sinking toward a -landing.</p> - -<p>The girl landed skillfully on a runway that sprang into light as she -approached—electronic wizardry, or the coronet and some tethered serf -at a switch? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered very greatly at that -moment to Chandler.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, love," she said, laughing. "I liked that. It's all very -well to use someone else's body for this sort of thing, but every now -and then I want to keep my own in practice."</p> - -<p>She linked arms with him as they left the plane. "When I was first -given the coronet here," she reminisced, amusement in her voice, "I -got the habit real bad. I spent six awful months—really, six months -in bed! And by myself at that. Oh, I was all over the world, and -skin-diving on the Barrier Reef and skiing in Norway and—well," she -said, squeezing his arm, "never <i>mind</i> what all. And then one day I got -on the scales, just out of habit. Do you know what I <i>weighed</i>?" She -closed her eyes in mock horror, but they were smiling when she opened -them again. "I won't do that again, love. Of course, a lot of us do -let ourselves go. Even Koitska. Especially Koitska. And some of the -women—But just between us, the ones who do really didn't have much to -keep in shape in the first place."</p> - -<p>She led the way into a villa that smelled of jasmine and gardenias, -snapped her fingers and subdued lights came on. "Like it? Oh, we've -nothing but the best. What would you like to drink?"</p> - -<p>She fixed them both tall, cold glasses and vetoed Chandler's choice of -a sprawling wicker chair to sit on. "Over here, love." She patted the -couch beside her. She drew up her legs, leaning against him, very soft, -warm and fragrant, and said dreamily, "Let me see. What's nice? What do -you like in music, love?"</p> - -<p>"Oh ... anything."</p> - -<p>"No, no! You're supposed to say, 'Why, the original-cast album from -<i>Hi There</i>.' Or anything else I starred in." She shook her head -reprovingly, and the points of her coronet caught golden reflections -from the lights. "But since you're obviously a man of low taste -I'll have to do the whole bit myself." She touched switches at a -remote-control set by her end of the couch, and in a moment dreamy -strings began to come from tri-aural speakers hidden around the room. -It was not <i>Hi There</i>. "That's better," she said drowsily, and in a -moment, "Wasn't it nice in the plane?"</p> - -<p>"It was fine," Chandler said. Gently—but firmly—he sat up and reached -automatically into his pocket.</p> - -<p>The girl sighed and straightened. "Cigarette? They're on the table -beside you. Hope you like the brand. They only keep one big factory -going, not to count those terrible Russian things that're all air and -no smoke." She touched his forehead with cool fingers. "You never told -me about that, love."</p> - -<p>It was like an electric shock—the touch of her fingers and the touch -of reality at once. Chandler said stiffly, "My brand. But I thought you -were there at the trial."</p> - -<p>"Oh, only now and then. I missed all the naughty parts—though, to tell -the truth, that's why I was hanging around. I do like to hear a little -naughtiness now and then ... but all I heard was that stupid lawyer and -that stupid judge. Made me mad." She giggled. "Lucky for you. I was so -irritated I decided to spoil their fun too."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed -to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a -young girl. Happens every day. Of course, it was one of your friends -that was doing it for me, but I didn't miss any of what was going on, -I can give you a blow-by-blow description if you like. The people in -the town where I lived, at that time, thought I was doing it on my own, -though, and they didn't approve. Hoaxing—you know? They thought I was -so perverse and cruel that I would do that sort of thing under my own -power, instead of with some exec—or, as they would have put it, being -ignorant, some imp, or devil, or demon—pulling the strings."</p> - -<p>He was shaking. He waited for what she had to say; but she only -whispered, "I'm sorry, love," and looked so contrite and honest that, -as rapidly as it had come upon him, his anger passed.</p> - -<p>He opened his mouth to say something to her. He didn't get it said. -She was sitting there, looking at him, alone and soft and inviting. -He kissed her; and as she returned the kiss, he kissed her again, and -again.</p> - -<p>But less than an hour later he was in her Porsche, cold sober, raging, -frustrated, miserable. He slammed it through the unfamiliar gears as he -sped back to the city.</p> - -<p>She had left him. They had kissed with increasing passion, his hands -playing about her, her body surging toward him, and then, just then, -she whispered, "No, love." He held her tighter and without another word -she opened her eyes and looked at him.</p> - -<p>He knew what mind it was that caught him then. It was her mind. -Stiffly, like wood, he released her, stood up, walked to the door and -locked it behind him.</p> - -<p>The lights in the villa went out. He stood there, boiling, looking -into the shadows through the great, wide, empty window. He could see -her lying there on the couch, and as he watched he saw her body toss -and stir; and as surely as he had ever known anything before he knew -that somewhere in the world some woman—or some man!—lay locked with a -lover, violent in love, and was unable to tell the other that a third -party had invaded their bed.</p> - -<p>Chandler did not know it until he saw something glistening on his -wrist, but he was weeping on the wild ride back to Honolulu in the car. -Her car. Would there be trouble for his taking it? God, let there -be trouble! He was in a mood for trouble. He was sick and wild with -revulsion.</p> - -<p>Worse than her use of him, a casual stimulant, an aphrodisiac touch, -was that she thought what she did was right. Chandler thought of the -worshipping dozens under the sundeck of the exec restaurant, and -Rosalie's gracious benediction as they made her their floral offerings. -Blind, pathetic fools!</p> - -<p>Not only the deluded men and women in the garden were worshippers -trapped in a vile religion, he thought. It was worse. The gods and -goddesses worshipped at their own divinity as well!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">X</p> - - -<p>Three days later Koitska's voice, coming from Chandler's lips, summoned -him out to the TWA shack again.</p> - -<p>Wise now in the ways of this world, Chandler commandeered a police car -and was hurried out to the South Gate, where the guards allowed him a -car of his own. The door of the building was unlocked and Chandler went -right up.</p> - -<p>He was astonished. The fat man was actually sitting up. He was fully -dressed—more or less; incongruously he wore flowered shorts and a -bright red, short-sleeve shirt, with rope sandals. He said, "You fly -a <i>gilikopter</i>? No? No difference. Help me." An arm like a mountain -went over Chandler's shoulders. The man must have weighed three hundred -pounds. Slowly, wheezing, he limped toward the back of the room and -touched a button.</p> - -<p>A door opened.</p> - -<p>Chandler had not known before that there was an elevator in the -building. That was one of the things the exec did not consider -important for his slaves to know. It lowered them with great grace and -delicacy to the first floor, where a large old Cadillac, ancient but -immaculately kept, the kind that used to be called a "gangster's car," -waited in a private parking bay.</p> - -<p>Chandler followed Koitska's directions and drove to an airfield where -a small, Plexiglas-nosed helicopter waited. More by the force of -Chandler pushing him from behind than through his own fat thighs, -Koitska puffed up the little staircase into the cabin. Originally the -copter had been fitted for four passengers. Now there was the pilot's -seat and a seat beside it, and in the back a wide, soft couch. Koitska -collapsed onto it. His face blanked out—he was, Chandler knew, -somewhere else, just then.</p> - -<p>In a moment his eyes opened again. He looked at Chandler with no -interest at all, and turned his face to the wall.</p> - -<p>After a moment he wheezed. "Sit down. At de controls." He breathed -noisily for a while. Then, "It von't pay you to be interested in -Rosalie," he said.</p> - -<p>Chandler was startled. He craned around in the seat but saw only -Koitska's back. "I'm not! Or anyway—" But he had no place to go in -that sentence, and in any case Koitska no longer seemed interested.</p> - -<p>After a moment Koitska stirred, settled himself more comfortably, and -Chandler felt himself taken. He turned to face the split wheel and the -unfamiliar pedals and watched himself work the controls. It was an -admirable performance. Whoever Chandler was just then—he could not -guess—he was a first-class helicopter pilot.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They crossed a wide body of ocean and approached another island; from -one quick glance at a navigation map that his eyes had taken, Chandler -guessed it to be Hilo. He landed the craft expertly on the margin of a -small airstrip, where two DC-3s were already parked and being unloaded, -and felt himself free again.</p> - -<p>Two husky young men, apparently native Hawaiians by their size, rolled -up a ramp and assisted Koitska down it and into a building. Chandler -was left to his own devices. The building was rundown but sound. Around -it stalky grass clumped, long uncut, and a few mauve and scarlet -blossoms, almost hidden, showed where someone had once tended beds of -bougainvillea and poinsettias. He could not guess what the building -had been doing there, looking like a small office-factory combination -out in the remote wilds, until he caught sight of a sign the winds had -blown against a wall: <i>Dole</i>. Apparently this had been headquarters -for one of the plantations. Now it was stripped almost clean inside, a -welter of desks and rusted machines piled heedlessly where there once -had been a parking lot. New equipment was being loaded into it from the -cargo planes. Chandler recognized some of it as from the list he had -given the parts man, Hsi. There also seemed to be a gasoline-driven -generator—a large one—but what the other things were he could not -guess.</p> - -<p>Besides Koitska, there were at least five coronet-wearing execs visible -around the place. Chandler was not surprised. It would have to be -something big to winkle these torpid slugs out of their shells, but he -knew what it was, and that it was big enough to them indeed; in fact, -it was their lives. He deduced that Koitska's plans for his future -comfort required a standby transmitter to service the coronets, in case -something went wrong. And clearly it was this that they were to put -together here.</p> - -<p>For ten hours, while the afternoon became dark night, they worked -at a furious pace. When the sun set one of the execs gestured and -the generator was started, rocking on its rubber-tired wheels as its -rotors spun and fumes chugged out, and they worked on by strings of -incandescent lights. It was pick-and-shovel work for Chandler, no -engineering, just unloading and roughly grouping the equipment where -it was ready to be assembled. The execs did not take part in the work. -Nor were they idle. They busied themselves in one room of the building -with some small device—Chandler could not see what—and when he looked -again it was gone. He did not see them take it away and did not know -where it was taken. Toward midnight he suddenly realized that it was -likely some essential part which they would not permit anyone but -themselves to handle, and that, no doubt, was why they had come in -person, instead of working through proxies.</p> - -<p>Just before they left Koitska and two or three of the other execs -quizzed him briefly. He was too tired to think beyond the questions, -but they seemed to be trying to find out if he was able to do the -simpler parts of the construction without supervision, and they seemed -satisfied with the answers. He flew the helicopter home, with someone -else guilding his arms and legs, but he was half asleep as he did it, -and he never quite remembered how he managed to get back to his room at -Tripler.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next morning he went back to Parts 'n Plenty with an additional -list, covering replacement of some parts that had been damaged. Hsi -glanced at it quickly and nodded. "All this stuff I have. You can pick -it up this afternoon if you like."</p> - -<p>Chandler offered him a cigarette out of a stale pack. "About the other -night—"</p> - -<p>Hsi began to perspire, but he said, casually enough, "Interested in -baseball?"</p> - -<p>"Baseball?"</p> - -<p>Hsi said, as though there had been nothing incongruous about the -question, "There'll be a Little League game this afternoon. Back of the -school on Punahou and Wilder. I thought I might stop by, then we can -come back and pick up the rest of your gear. Two o'clock. Hope I'll see -you."</p> - -<p>Chandler walked away thoughtfully. He had no real intention of going -there, but something in Hsi's attitude suggested more than a ball game; -after a quick and poor lunch he decided to go.</p> - -<p>The field was a dirty playground, scuffed out of what had probably -once been an attractive campus. The players were ten-year-olds, of the -mixture of hair colors and complexions typical of the islands. Chandler -was puzzled. Surely even the wildest baseball rooter wouldn't go far -out of his way for this, and yet there was an audience of at least -fifty adults watching the game. And none seemed to be related to the -ballplayers. The Little Leaguers played grave, careful ball, and the -audience watched them without a word of parental encouragement or joy.</p> - -<p>Hsi approached him from the shadow of the school building. "Glad you -could make it, Chandler. No, no questions. Just watch."</p> - -<p>In the fifth inning, with the score aggregating around thirty, there -was an interruption. A tall, red-headed man glanced at his watch, -licked his lips, took a deep breath and walked out onto the diamond. He -glanced at the crowd, while the kids suspended play without surprise. -Then the red-headed man nodded to the umpire and stepped off the field. -The ballplayers resumed their game, but now the whole attention of the -audience was on the red-headed man.</p> - -<p>Suspicion crossed Chandler's mind. In a moment it was confirmed, as the -red-headed man raised his hands waist high and clasped his right hand -around his left wrist—only for a moment, but that was enough.</p> - -<p>The ball game was a cover. Chandler was present at a meeting of what -Hsi had called The Society of Slaves, the underground that dared to pit -itself against the execs.</p> - -<p>Hsi cleared his throat and said, "This is the one. I vouch for him." -And that was startling too, Chandler thought, because all these -wrist-circled men and women were looking at <i>him</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"All right," said the red-headed man nervously, "let's get started -then. First thing, anybody got any weapons? Sure? Take a look—we don't -want any slipups. Turn out your pockets."</p> - -<p>There was a flurry and a woman near Chandler held up a key ring with a -tiny knife on it "Penknife? Hell, yes; get rid of it. Throw it in the -outfield. You can pick it up after the meeting." A hundred eyes watched -the pearly object fly. "We ought to be all right here," said the -red-headed man. "The kids have been playing every day this week and -nobody looked in. But <i>watch your neighbor</i>. See anything suspicious, -don't wait. Don't take a chance. Holler 'Kill the umpire!' or anything -you like, but holler. Good and loud." He paused, breathing hard. "All -right, Hsi. Introduce him."</p> - -<p>The parts man took Chandler firmly by the shoulder. "This fellow -has something for us," he said. "He's working for the exec Koitska, -building what can't be anything else but a duplicate of the machine -that they use to control us. He—"</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute!" A bearded man came forward and peered furiously into -Chandler's face. "Look at his head! Don't you see he's branded?"</p> - -<p>Chandler touched his scar as the man with the beard hissed, "Damned -hoaxer! This is the lowest species of life on the face of the -earth—someone who pretended to be possessed in order to do some damned -dirty act What was it, hoaxer? Murder? Burning babies alive?"</p> - -<p>Hsi economically let go of Chandler's shoulder, half turned the bearded -man with one hand and swung with the other. "Shut up, Linton. Wait till -you hear what he's got for us."</p> - -<p>The bearded man, sprawling and groggy, slowly rose as Hsi explained -tersely what he had guessed of Chandler's work—as much as Chandler -himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it -won't be used. But maybe it will—and Chandler's the man who can -sabotage it! How would you like that? The execs switching over to -this equipment while the other one is down for maintenance—and their -headsets don't work!"</p> - -<p>There was a terrible silence, except for the sounds of the children -playing ball. Two runs had just scored. Chandler recognized the -silence. It was hope.</p> - -<p>Linton broke it, his blue eyes gleaming above the beard. "No! Better -than that. Why wait? We can <i>use</i> this fellow's machine. Set it up, get -us some headsets—and we can control the execs themselves!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The silence was even longer; then there was a babble of discussion, but -Chandler did not take part in it. He was thinking. It was a tremendous -thought.</p> - -<p>Suppose a man like himself were actually able to do what they wanted -of him. Never mind the practical difficulties—learning how it worked, -getting a headset, bypassing the traps Koitska would surely have set -to prevent just that. Never mind the penalties for failure. Suppose -he could make it work, and find fifty headsets, and fit them to the -fifty men and women here in this clandestine meeting of the Society of -Slaves....</p> - -<p>Would there, after all, be any change worth mentioning in the state of -the world?</p> - -<p>Or was Lord Acton, always and everywhere, right? Power corrupts. -Absolute power corrupts absolutely. The power locked in the coronets -of the exec was more than flesh and blood could stand; he could almost -sense the rot in those near him at the mere thought.</p> - -<p>But Hsi was throwing cold water on the idea. "Sorry, but I know that -much: One exec can't control another. The headpieces insulate against -control. Well." He glanced at his watch. "We agreed on twenty minutes -maximum for this meeting," he reminded the red-headed man, who nodded.</p> - -<p>"You're right." He glanced around the group. "I'll make the rest of it -fast. News: You all know they got some more of us last week. Have you -all been by the Monument? Three of our comrades were still there this -morning. But I don't think they know we're organized, they think it's -only individual acts of sabotage. In case any of you don't know, the -execs can't read our minds. Not even when they're controlling us. Proof -is we're all still alive. Hanrahan knew practically every one of us, -and he's been lying out there for a week with a broken back, ever since -they caught him trying to blow up the guard pits at East Gate. They had -plenty of chance to pump him if they could. <i>They can't.</i> Next thing. -No more individual attacks on one exec. Not unless it's a matter of -life and death, and even then you're wasting your time unless you've -got a gun. They can grab your mind faster than you can cut a throat. -Third thing: Don't get the idea there are good execs and bad execs. -Once they put that thing on their heads they're all the same. Fourth -thing. You can't make deals. They aren't that worried. So if anybody's -thinking of selling out—I'm not saying anyone is—forget it." He -looked around. "Anything else?"</p> - -<p>"What about germ warfare in the water supply?" somebody ventured.</p> - -<p>"Still looking into it. No report yet. All right, that's enough for -now. Meeting's adjourned. Watch the ball game for a while, then drift -away. <i>One at a time.</i>"</p> - -<p>Hsi was the first to go, then a couple of women together, then a -sprinkling of other men. Chandler was in no particular hurry, although -it seemed time to leave anyway, because the ball game appeared to be -over. A ten-year-old with freckles on his face was at the plate, but -he was leaning on his bat, staring at Chandler with wide, serious eyes.</p> - -<p>Chandler felt a sudden chill.</p> - -<p>He turned, began to walk away—and felt himself seized.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He walked slowly into the schoolhouse, unable to look around. Behind -him he heard a confused sob, tears and a child's voice trying to -blubber through: "Something <i>funny</i> happened."</p> - -<p>If the child had been an adult it might have been warning enough. But -the child had never experienced possession before, was not sure enough, -was clear into the schoolhouse before the remaining members of the -Society of Slaves awoke to their danger. He heard a quick cry of <i>They -got him!</i> Then Chandler's legs stopped walking and he addressed himself -savagely. A few yards away a stout Chinese lady was mopping the tiles; -she looked up at him, startled, but no more startled than Chandler was -himself. "You idiot!" Chandler blazed. "Why do you have to get mixed -up in this? Don't you know it's wrong, love? Stay here!" Chandler -commanded himself. "Don't you <i>dare</i> leave this building!"</p> - -<p>And he was free again, but there was a sudden burst of screams from -outside.</p> - -<p>Bewildered, Chandler stood for a moment, as little able to move as -though the girl still had him under control. Then he leaped through a -classroom to a window, staring. Outside in the playground there was -wild confusion. Half the spectators were on the ground, trying to rise. -As he watched, a teen-age boy hurled himself at an elderly lady, the -two of them falling. Another man flung himself to the ground. A woman -swung her pocketbook into the face of the man next to her. One of the -fallen ones rose, only to trip himself again. It was a mad spectacle, -but Chandler understood it: What he was watching was a single member -of the exec trying to keep a group of twenty ordinary, unarmed human -beings in line. The exec was leaping from mind to mind; even so, the -crowd was beginning to scatter.</p> - -<p>Without thought Chandler started to leap out to help them; but the -possessor had anticipated that. He was caught at the door. He whirled -and ran toward the woman with the mop; as he was released, the woman -flung herself upon him, knocking him down.</p> - -<p>By the time he was able to get up again it was far too late to help ... -if there ever had been a time when he could have been of any real help.</p> - -<p>He heard shots. Two policeman had come running into the playground, -with guns drawn.</p> - -<p>The exec who had looked at him out of the boy's eyes, who had -penetrated this nest of enemies and extricated Chandler from it, had -taken first things first. Help had been summoned. Quick as the coronets -worked, it was no time at all until the nearest persons with weapons -were located, commandeered and in action.</p> - -<p>Two minutes later there no longer was resistance.</p> - -<p>Obviously more execs had come to help, attracted by the commotion -perhaps, or summoned at some stolen moment after the meeting had first -been invaded. There were only five survivors on the field. Each was -clearly controlled. They rose and stood patiently while the two police -shot them, shot them, paused to reload and shot again. The last to die -was the bearded man, Linton, and as he fell his eyes brushed Chandler's.</p> - -<p>Chandler leaned against a wall.</p> - -<p>It had been a terrible sight. The nearness of his own death had been -almost the least of it.</p> - -<p>He had no doubt of the identity of the exec who had saved him and -destroyed the others. Though he had heard the voice only as it came -from his own mouth, he could not miss it. It was Rosalie Pan.</p> - -<p>He looked out at the red-headed man, sprawled across the foul line -behind third base, and remembered what he had said. There weren't any -good execs or bad execs. There were only execs.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">XI</p> - -<p>Whatever Chandler's life might be worth, he knew he had given it away -and the girl had given it back to him.</p> - -<p>He did not see her for several days, but the morning after the massacre -he woke to find a note beside his bed table. No one had been in the -room. It was his own sleeping hand that had written it, though the -girl's mind had moved his fingers:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>If you get mixed up in anything like that again I won't be able to -help you. So don't! Those people are just using you, you know. Don't -throw away your chances. Do you like surfboarding?</p> - -<p class="ph5">Rosie</p></div> - -<p>But by then there was no time for surfboarding, or for anything -else but work. The construction job on Hilo had begun, and it was a -nightmare. He was flown to the island with the last load of parts. No -execs were present in the flesh, but in the first day Chandler lost -count of how many different minds possessed his own. He began to be -able to recognize them by a limp as he walked, by tags of German as he -spoke, by a stutter, a distinctive gesture of annoyance, an expletive. -As he was a trained engineer he was left to labor by himself for hours -on end. It was worse for the others. There seemed to be a dozen execs -hovering invisible around all the time; no sooner was a worker released -by one than he was seized by another. The work progressed rapidly, -but at the cost of utter exhaustion. By the end of the fourth day -Chandler had eaten only two meals and could not remember when he had -slept last. He found himself staggering when free, and furious with the -fatigue-clumsiness of his own body when possessed. At sundown on the -fourth day he found himself free for a moment and, incredibly, without -work of his own to do just then, until someone else completed a job -of patchwiring. He stumbled out into the open air and had time only -to gaze around for a moment before his eyes began to close. This must -once have been a lovely island. Even unkempt as it was, the trees were -tall and beautiful. Beyond them a wisp of smoke was pale against the -dark-blue evening sky; the breeze was scented.... He woke and found he -was already back in the building, reaching for his soldering gun.</p> - -<p>There came a point at which even the will of the execs was unable to -drive the flogged bodies farther, and then they were permitted to sleep -for a few hours. At daybreak they were awake again. The sleep was not -enough. The bodies were slow and inaccurate. Two of the Hawaiians, -straining a hundred-pound component into place, staggered, slipped—and -dropped it.</p> - -<p>Appalled, Chandler waited for them to kill themselves.</p> - -<p>But it seemed that the execs were tiring too. One of the Hawaiians said -irritably, with an accent Chandler did not recognize: "That's pau. All -right, you morons, you've won yourselves a vacation; we'll have to fly -you in replacements. Take the day off." And incredibly all eleven of -the haggard wrecks stumbling around the building were free at once.</p> - -<p>The first thought of every man was to eat, to relieve himself, to -remove a shoe and ease a blistered foot—to do any of the things they -had not been permitted to do. The second thought was sleep.</p> - -<p>Chandler dropped off at once, but he was overtired; he slept fitfully, -and after an hour or two of turning on the hard ground sat up, blinking -red-eyed around. He had been slow. The cushioned seats in the aircraft -and cars were already taken. He stood up, stretched, scratched himself -and wondered what to do next, and he remembered the thread of smoke he -had seen—when? three nights ago?—against the evening sky.</p> - -<p>In all those hours he had not had time to think one obvious thought: -There should have been no smoke there! The island was supposed to be -deserted.</p> - -<p>He stood up, looked around to get his bearings, and started off in the -direction he remembered.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was good to own his body again, in poor condition as it was. It was -delicious to be allowed to think consecutive thoughts.</p> - -<p>The chemistry of the human animal is such that it heals whatever -thrusts it may receive from the outside world. Short of death, its -only incapacitating wound comes from itself; from the outside it can -survive astonishing blows, rise again and flourish. Chandler was not -flourishing, but he had begun to rise.</p> - -<p>Time had been so compressed and blurred in the days since the slaughter -at the Punahou School that he had not had time to grieve over the -deaths of his briefly-met friends, or even to think of their quixotic -plans against the execs. Now he began to wonder.</p> - -<p>He understood with what thrill of hope he had been received—a man like -themselves, not an exec, whose touch was at the very center of the exec -power. But how firm was that touch? Was there really anything he could -do?</p> - -<p>It seemed not. He barely understood the mechanics of what he was -doing, far less the theory behind it. Conceivably knowing where this -installation was he could somehow get back to it when it was completed. -In theory it might be that there was a way to dispense with the -headsets and exert power from the big board itself.</p> - -<p>A Cro-Magnard at the controls of a nuclear-laden jet bomber could -destroy a city. Nothing stopped him. Nothing but his own invincible -ignorance. Chandler was that Cro-Magnard; certainly power was here to -grasp, but he had no way of knowing how to pick it up.</p> - -<p>Still—where there was life there was hope. He decided he was wasting -time that would not come again. He had been wandering along a road -that led into a small town, quite deserted, but this was no time for -wandering. His place was back at the installation, studying, scheming, -trying to understand all he could. He began to turn, and stopped.</p> - -<p>"Great God," he said softly, looking at what he had just seen. The -town was deserted of life, but not of death.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There were bodies everywhere.</p> - -<p>They were long dead, perhaps years. They seemed natural and right as -they lay there. It was not surprising they had escaped his notice at -first. Little was left but bones and an occasional desiccated leathery -rag that might have been a face. The clothing was faded and rotted -away; but enough was left of the bodies and the clothes to make it -clear that none of these people had died natural deaths. A rusted blade -in a chest cage showed where a knife had pierced a heart; a small -skull near his feet (with a scrap of faded blue rompers near it) was -shattered. On a flagstone terrace a family group of bones lay radiating -outward, like a rosette. Something had exploded there and caught them -all as they turned to flee. There was a woman's face, grained like oak -and eyeless, visible between the fender of a truck and a crushed-in -wall.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus5.jpg" width="362" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Like exhumed Pompeii, the tragedy was so ancient that it aroused only -wonder. The whole town had been blotted out.</p> - -<p>The execs did not take chances; apparently they had sterilized the -whole island—probably had sterilized all of them except Oahu itself, -to make certain that their isolation was complete, except for the -captive stock allowed to breed and serve them in and around Honolulu.</p> - -<p>Chandler prowled the town for a quarter of an hour, but one street was -like another. The bodies did not seem to have been disturbed even by -animals, but perhaps there were none big enough to show traces of such -work.</p> - -<p>Something moved in a doorway.</p> - -<p>Chandler thought at once of the smoke he had seen, but no one answered -his call and, though he searched, he could neither see nor hear -anything alive.</p> - -<p>The search was a waste of time. It also wasted his best chance to study -the thing he was building. As he returned to the cinder-block structure -at the end of the airstrip he heard motors and looked up to see a plane -circling in for a landing.</p> - -<p>He knew that he had only a few minutes. He spent those minutes as -thriftily as he could, but long before he could even grasp the -circuitry of the parts he had not himself worked on he felt a touch at -his mind. The plane was rolling to a stop. He and all of them hurried -over to begin unloading it.</p> - -<p>The plane was stopped with one wingtip almost touching the building, -heading directly into it—convenient for unloading, but a foolish -nuisance when it came time to turn it and take off again, Chandler's -mind thought while his body lugged cartons out of the plane.</p> - -<p>But he knew the answer to that. Takeoff would be no problem, any more -than it would for the other small transports at the far end of the -strip.</p> - -<p>These planes were not going to return, ever.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The work went on, and then it was done, or all but, and Chandler knew -no more about it than when it was begun. The last little bit was a -careful check of line voltages and a balancing of biases. Chandler -could help only up to a point, and then two execs, working through the -bodies of one of the Hawaiians and the pilot of a Piper Tri-Pacer who -had flown in some last-minute test equipment—and remained as part of -the labor pool—laboriously worked on the final tests.</p> - -<p>Spent, the other men flopped to the ground, waiting.</p> - -<p>They were far gone. All of them, Chandler as much as the others. But -one of them rolled over, grinned tightly at Chandler and said, "It's -been fun. My name's Bradley. I always think people ought to know each -other's names in cases like this. Imagine sharing a grave with some -utter stranger!"</p> - -<p>"Grave?"</p> - -<p>Bradley nodded. "Like Pharaoh's slaves. The pyramid is just about -finished, friend. You don't know what I'm talking about?" He sat up, -plucked a blade of stemmy grass and put it between his teeth. "I guess -you haven't seen the corpses in the woods."</p> - -<p>Chandler said, "I found a town half a mile or so over there, nothing in -it but skeletons."</p> - -<p>"No, heavens, nothing that ancient. These are nice fresh corpses, out -behind the junkheap there. Well, not <i>fresh</i>. They're a couple of weeks -old. I thought it was neat of the execs to dispose of the used-up labor -out of sight of the rest of us. So much better for morale ... until -Juan Simoa and I went back looking for a plain, simple electrical -extension cord and found them."</p> - -<p>With icy calm Chandler realized that the man was talking sense. Used-up -labor: the men who had unloaded the first planes, no doubt—worked -until they dropped, then efficiently disposed of, as they were so cheap -a commodity that they were not worth the trouble of hauling back to -Honolulu for salvage. "I see," he said. "Besides, dead men tell no -tales."</p> - -<p>"<i>And</i> spread no disease. Probably that's why they did their killing -back in the tall trees. Always the chance some exec might have to come -down here to inspect in person. Rotting corpses just aren't sanitary." -Bradley grinned again. "I used to be a doctor at Molokai."</p> - -<p>"Lep—" began Chandler, but the doctor shook his head.</p> - -<p>"No, no, never say 'leprosy.' It's 'Hansen's disease.' Whatever it is, -the execs were sure scared of it. They wiped out every patient we had, -except a couple who got away by swimming; then for good measure they -wiped out most of the medical staff too, except for a couple like me -who were off-island and had the sense to keep quiet about where they'd -worked. I used," he said, rolling over his back and putting his hands -behind his head, "in the old days to work on pest-control for the -Public Health Service. We sure knocked off a lot of rats and fleas. I -never thought I'd be one of them." He was silent.</p> - -<p>Chandler admired his courage very much. The man had fallen asleep.</p> - -<p>Chandler looked at the others. "You going to let them kill us without a -struggle?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>The remaining Hawaiian was the only one to answer. He said, "You just -don't know how much <i>pilikia</i> you're in. It isn't what we <i>let</i> them -do."</p> - -<p>"We'll see," Chandler promised grimly. "They're only human. I haven't -given up yet."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved -him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find -himself standing, walking toward the Tri-Pacer. The sun was just -beginning to pink the sky and no one else was moving. "Sorry, love," -he apologized to himself. "You probably need to bathe and shave, but -I don't know how. Shave, I mean." He giggled. "Anyway, you'll find -everything you need at my house."</p> - -<p>He climbed into the plane. "Ever fly before?" he asked himself. "Well, -you'll love it. Here we go. <i>Close</i> the door ... <i>snap</i> the belt ... -<i>turn</i> the switch." He admired the practiced ease with which his body -started the motor, raced it with a critical eye on the instruments, -turned the plane and lifted it off, up, into the rising sun.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear. You <i>do</i> need a bath," he told himself, wrinkling his nose -humorously. "No harm. I've the nicest tub—pink, deep—and nine kinds -of bath salts. But I wish you weren't so tired, love, because it's -a long flight and you're wearing me out." He was silent as he bent -to the correct compass heading and cranked a handle over his head to -adjust the trim. "Koitska's going to be so <i>huhu</i>," he said, smiling. -"Never fear, love, I can calm him down. But it's easier to do with you -in one piece, you know, the other way's too late."</p> - -<p>He was silent for a long time, and then his voice began to sing.</p> - -<p>They were songs from Rosalie's own musical comedies. Even with so poor -an instrument as Chandler's voice to work with, she sang well enough to -keep both of them entertained while his body brought the plane in for -a landing; and so Chandler went to live in the villa that belonged to -Rosalie Pan.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">XII</p> - - -<p>"Love," she said, "there are worse things in the world than keeping me -amused when I'm not busy. We'll go to the beach again one day soon, I -promise." And she was gone again.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler was a concubine—not even that; he was a male geisha, -convenient to play gin rummy with, or for company on the surfboards, or -to make a drink.</p> - -<p>He did not quite know what to make of himself. In bad times one hopes -for survival. He had hoped; and now he had survival, perfumed and -cushioned, but on what mad terms! Rosalie was a pretty girl, and a -good-humored one. She was right. There were worse things in the world -than being her companion; but Chandler could not adjust himself to the -role.</p> - -<p>It angered him when she got up from the garden swing and locked herself -in her room—for he knew that she was not sleeping as she lay there, -though her eyes were closed and she was motionless. It infuriated him -when she casually usurped his body to bring an ashtray to her side, or -to stop him when his hands presumed. And it drove him nearly wild to be -a puppet with her friends working his strings.</p> - -<p>He was that most of all. One exec who wished to communicate with -another cast about for an available human proxy nearby. Chandler -was that for Rosalie Pan: her telephone, her social secretary, and on -occasion he was the garment her dates put on. For Rosalie was one -of the few execs who cared to conduct any major part of her life in -her own skin. She liked dancing. She enjoyed dining out. It was her -pleasure to display herself to the worshippers at Luigi the Wharf Rat's -and to speed down the long combers on a surfboard. When another exec -chose to accompany her it was Chandler's body which gave the remote -"date" flesh.</p> - -<p>He ate very well indeed—in surprising variety. He drank heavily -sometimes and abstained others. Once, in the person of a Moroccan exec, -he smoked an opium pipe; once he dined on roasted puppy. He saw many -interesting things and, when Rosalie was occupied without him, he had -the run of her house, her music library, her pantry and her books. He -was not mistreated. He was pampered and praised, and every night she -kissed him before she retired to her own room with the snap-lock on the -door.</p> - -<p>He was miserable.</p> - -<p>He prowled the house in the nights after she had left him, unable -to sleep. It had been bad enough on Hilo, under the hanging threat -of death. But then, though he was only a slave, he was working at -something that used his skill and training.</p> - -<p>Now? Now a Pekingese could do nearly all she wanted of him. He despised -in himself the knowledge that with a Pekingese's cunning he was -contriving to make himself indispensable to her—her slippers fetched -in his teeth, his silky mane by her hand to stroke—if not these things -in actuality, then their very near equivalents.</p> - -<p>But what else was there for him?</p> - -<p>There was nothing. She had spared his life from Koitska, and if he -offended her, Koitska's sentence would be carried out.</p> - -<p>Even dying might be better than this, he thought.</p> - -<p>Indeed, it might be better even to go back to Honolulu and life.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the morning he woke to find himself climbing the wide, carpeted -steps to her room. She was not asleep; it was her mind that was guiding -him.</p> - -<p>He opened the door. She lay with a feathery coverlet pulled up to her -chin, eyes open, head propped on three pillows; as she looked at him he -was free. "Something the matter, love? You fell asleep sitting up."</p> - -<p>"Sorry." She would not be put off. She made him tell her his -resentments. She was very understanding and very sure as she said, -"You're not a dog, love. I won't have you thinking that way. You're -my friend. Don't you think I need a friend?" She leaned forward. Her -nightgown was very sheer; but Chandler had tasted that trap before and -he averted his eyes. "You think it's all fun for us. I understand. Tell -me, if you thought I was doing important work—oh, <i>crucial</i> work, -love—would you feel a little easier? Because I am. We've got the -whole work of the island to do, and I do my share. We've got our plans -to make and our future to provide for. There are so few of us. A single -H-bomb could kill us all. Do you think it isn't work, keeping that bomb -from ever coming here? There's all Honolulu to monitor, for they know -about us there. We can't like some disgusting nitwits like your Society -of Slaves destroy <i>us</i>. There's the problems of the world to see to. -Why," she said with pride, "we've solved the whole Indian-Pakistani -population problem in the last two months. They'll not have to worry -about famine again for a dozen generations! We're working on China now; -next Japan; next—oh, all the world. We'll have three-quarters of the -lumps gone soon, and the rest will have space to breathe in. It's work!"</p> - -<p>She saw his expression and said earnestly, "No, don't think that! You -call it murder. It is, of course. But it's the surgeon's knife. We're -quicker and less painful than starvation, love ... and if some of us -enjoy the work of weeding out the unfit, does that change anything? It -does not! I admit some of us are, well, <i>mean</i>. But not all. And we're -improving. The new people we take in are better than the old."</p> - -<p>She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.</p> - -<p>Then she shook her head. "Never mind," she said—apparently to herself. -"Forget it, love. Go like an angel and fetch us both some coffee."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Like an angel he went ... not, he thought bitterly, like a man.</p> - -<p>She was keeping something from him, and he was too stubborn to let her -tease him out of his mood. "Everything's a secret," he complained, and -she patted his cheek.</p> - -<p>"It has to be that way." She was quite serious. "This is the biggest -thing in the world. I'm fond of you, love, but I can't let that -interfere with my duty."</p> - -<p>"<i>Shto, Rosie?</i>" said Chandler's mouth thickly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, there you are, Andrei," she said, and spoke quickly in Russian.</p> - -<p>Chandler's brows knotted in a scowl and he barked: "<i>Nyeh mozhet bit!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Andrei...." she said gently. "<i>Ya vas sprashnivayoo....</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Nyet!</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>No Andrei....</i>"</p> - -<p>Rumble, grumble; Chandler's body twitched and fumed. He heard his own -name in the argument, but what the subject matter was he could not -tell. Rosalie was coaxing; Koitska was refusing. But he was weakening. -After minutes Chandler's shoulders shrugged; he nodded; and he was -free.</p> - -<p>"Have some more coffee, love," said Rosalie Pan with an air of triumph.</p> - -<p>Chandler waited. He did not understand what was going on. It was up to -her to enlighten him, and finally she smiled and said: "Perhaps you can -join us, love. Don't say yes or no. It isn't up to you ... and besides -you can't know whether you want it or not until you try. So be patient -a moment."</p> - -<p>Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked: -"<i>Khorashaw!</i>" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's -room. A picture on the wall moved aside and there was a safe. Flick, -flick, Chandler's own fingers dialed a combination so rapidly that he -could not follow it. The door of the safe opened.</p> - -<p>And Chandler was free, and Rosalie excitedly leaping out of the bed -behind him, careless of the wisp of nylon that was her only garment, -crowding softly, warmly past him to reach inside the safe. She lifted -out a coronet very like her own.</p> - -<p>She paused and looked at Chandler.</p> - -<p>"You can't do anything to harm us with this one, love," she warned. -"Do you understand that? I mean, don't get the idea that you can tell -anyone anything. Or do something violent. You can't. I'll be right -with you, and Koitska will be monitoring the transmitter." She handed -him the coronet. "Now, when you see something interesting, you move -right in. You'll see how. It's the easiest thing in the world, and—Oh, -here. Put it on."</p> - -<p>Chandler swallowed with difficulty.</p> - -<p>She was offering him the tool that had given the execs the world. A -blunter, weaker tool than her own, no doubt. But still it was power -beyond his imagining. He stood there frozen as she slipped it on his -head. Sprung electrodes pressed gently against his temples and behind -his ears. She touched something....</p> - -<p>Chandler stood motionless for a moment and then, without effort, -floated free of his own body.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Floating. Floating; a jellyfish floating. Trailing tentacles that -whipped and curled, floating over the sandbound claws and chitin that -clashed beneath, floating over the world's people, and them not even -knowing, not even seeing....</p> - -<p>Chandler floated.</p> - -<p>He was up, out and away. He was drifting. Around him was no-color. -He saw nothing of space or size, he only saw, or did not see but -felt-smelled-tasted, people. They were the sandbound. They were the -creatures that crawled and struggled below, and his tentacles lashed -out at them.</p> - -<p>Beside him floated another. The girl? It had a shape, but not a human -shape—a pair of great projecting spheres, a cinctured area-rule shape. -Female. Yes, undoubtedly the girl. It waved a member at him and he -understood he was beckoned. He followed.</p> - -<p>Two of sandbound ones were ahead.</p> - -<p>The female shape slipped into one, he into the other. It was as easy to -invest this form with his own will as it was to command the muscles of -his hand. They looked at each other out of sandbound eyes. "You're a -boy!" Chandler laughed. The girl laughed: "You're an old washerwoman!" -They were in a kitchen where fish simmered on an electric stove. The -boy-Rosie wrinkled his-her nose, blinked and was empty. Only the small -almond-eyed boy was left, and he began to cry convulsively. Chandler -understood. He floated out after her.</p> - -<p>This way, this way, she gestured. A crowd of mudbound figures. She -slipped into one, he into another. They were in a bus now, rocking -along an inland road, all men, all roughly dressed. Laborers going -to clear a new section of Oahu of its split-level debris, Chandler -thought, and looked for the girl in one of the men's eyes, could not -find her, hesitated and—floated. She was hovering impatiently. This -way!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="600" height="194" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He followed, and followed.</p> - -<p>They were a hundred people doing a hundred things. They lingered a -few moments as a teen-age couple holding hands in the twilight of the -beach. They fled from a room where Chandler was an old woman dying on -a bed, and Rosalie a stolid, uncaring nurse beside her. They played -follow-the-leader through the audience of a Honolulu movie theater, and -sought each other, laughing, among the fish stalls of King Street. Then -Chandler turned to Rosalie to speak and ... it all went out ... the -scene disappeared ... he opened his eyes, and he was back in his own -flesh.</p> - -<p>He was lying on the pastel pile rug in Rosalie's bedroom.</p> - -<p>He got up, rubbing the side of his face. He had tumbled, it seemed. -Rosalie was lying on the bed.</p> - -<p>In a moment she opened her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Well, love?"</p> - -<p>He said hoarsely, "What made it stop?"</p> - -<p>She shrugged. "Koitska turned you off. Tired of monitoring us, I -expect—it's been an hour. I'm surprised his patience lasted this -long."</p> - -<p>She stretched luxuriously, but he was too full of what had happened -even to see the white grace of her body. "Did you like it, love? Would -you like to have it forever?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">XIII</p> - - -<p>For nine days Chandler's status remained in limbo. He spent that day -in a state of numb bemusement, remembering the men and women he had -worn like garments, appalled and exhilarated. He did not see Rosalie -again that day, she kept to her room and he locked out. He was still a -lapdog, but a lapdog with a dream dangling before him. He went to sleep -that night thinking that he was a dog who might become a god, and he -had eight days left.</p> - -<p>The next day Rosalie wheedled another hour of the coronet from Koitska. -They explored the ice caves on Mount Rainier in the bodies of two -sick, starving hermits and wandered arm in arm near the destroyed -International Bridge at Niagara, breathing the spray of the unchanging -Falls. He had seven days left.</p> - -<p>They passed like a dream. He saw a great deal of the inner workings -of the exec, more than before. He had privileges. He was up for -membership in the club. Rosalie had proposed him. He talked with two -Czechoslovakian ballet dancers in their persons, and a succession of -heavily accented Russians and Poles and Japanese through the mouth of -the beach boy who came to tend Rosalie's garden. He thought they liked -him and was pleased that he penetrated where he had not been allowed -before ... until he realized that these freedoms were in themselves a -threat. They allowed him this contact so that they could look him over. -If they rejected him they would have to kill him, because he had seen -too much. But by then a week had passed, and another day, and though he -did not know it he had only one day left. Rosalie did what she could to -make the days of waiting easy for him.</p> - -<p>"Embarrassing, isn't it? I went through it myself, love. Come have a -drink."</p> - -<p>"When will I know?" he demanded fretfully.</p> - -<p>"Well." She hesitated. "I don't suppose there's any harm in telling -you, love, under the circumstances—"</p> - -<p>He knew what the circumstances were.</p> - -<p>"I guess I can tell you. You need just over seven hundred votes to -come in. You've got—" Her eyes glazed for a moment. She was looking -through some clerk's eyes, somewhere on the island. "You've got about a -hundred and fifty so far. Takes time, doesn't it? But it's worth it in -the end."</p> - -<p>"How many 'no' votes?"</p> - -<p>"None." She said gently, "You'll never have but one, love, because -that's all it takes."</p> - -<p>He stared. The girl gook took up his hand and kissed it lightly. "One -blackball's enough, yes, but never fear. Rosie's on your side."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Restlessly Chandler stood up and made himself another drink. His head -was beginning to buzz. They had been drinking on her sun terrace since -early afternoon.</p> - -<p>Rosalie came up beside him soothingly. "I know how you feel. Want me to -tell you about when I went through it?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," he said, stirring the ice around in the glass and drinking it -down. He made another drink absently, hardly hearing what she said, -although the sound of her voice was welcome.</p> - -<p>"Oh, that lousy headdress! It weighed twenty pounds, and they put it on -with hatpins." He caressed her absently. He had figured out that she -was talking about the night New York was bombed. "I was in the middle -of the big first-act curtain number when—" her face was strained, -even after years, even now that she was herself one of the godlike -ones—"when something took hold of me. I ran off the stage and right -out through the front door. There was a cab waiting. As soon as I got -in I was free, and the driver took off like a lunatic through the -tunnel, out to Newark Airport. I tell you, I was scared! At the toll -booth I screamed but my—friend—let go of the driver for a minute, -smashed a trailer-truck into a police car, and in the confusion we got -away. He took me over again at the airport. I ran bare as a bird into a -plane that was just ready to take off. The pilot was under control.... -We flew eleven hours, and I wore that damn feather headdress all the -way."</p> - -<p>She held out her glass for a refill. Chandler busied himself slicing -a lime for her drink. Now she was talking about her friend. "I hadn't -seen him in six years. I was just a kid, living in Islip. He was with -a Russian trade commission next door, in an old mansion. Well, he was -one of the ones, back in Russia, that came up with these." She touched -her coronet. "So," she said brightly, "he put me up for membership and -by and by they gave me one. You see? It's all very simple, except the -waiting."</p> - -<p>Chandler pulled her down on the couch beside him and made a toast. -"Your friend."</p> - -<p>"He's a nice guy," she said moodily, sipping her drink. "You know how -careful I am about getting exercise and so on? It's partly because of -him. You would have liked him, love, only—well, it turned out that he -liked me well enough, but he began to like what he could get through -the coronet a lot more. He got fat. A lot of them are awfully fat, -love," she said seriously. "That's why they need people like me. And -you. Replacements. Heart trouble, liver trouble, what can they expect -when they lie in bed day in and day out, taking their lives through -other people's bodies? I won't let myself go that way.... It's a -temptation. You know, almost every day I find some poor woman on a diet -and spend a solid hour eating creampuffs and gravies. How they must -hate me!"</p> - -<p>She grinned, leaned back and kissed him.</p> - -<p>Chandler put his arms around the girl and returned the kiss, hard. She -did not draw away. She clung to him, and he could feel in the warmth -of her body, the sound of her breath that she was responding. The -drink made him reckless; the last two weeks made him doubtful; he was -torn. He could tell that there was no resistance in her body, but the -coronet made it in doubt; she could fling him away from her with one -touch of the mind. Yet she didn't do it—</p> - -<p>"<i>Vi myenya zvali?</i>" his own voice demanded, harsh and mocking.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The girl tried to push him away. Her eyes were bright and huge, staring -at him. "Andrei!"</p> - -<p>"<i>Da, Andrei! Kok eto dosadno!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Andrei, please. I know that you are—"</p> - -<p>"Filthy!" screamed Chandler's voice. "How can you? I do not allow -this carrion to touch you so—not vot is mine—I do not allow him to -live!" And Chandler dropped her and leaped to his feet. He fought. He -struggled; but only in his mind, and helplessly; his body carried him -out of the room, running and stumbling, out into the drive, into her -waiting car and away.</p> - -<p>He drove like a madman on roads he had never seen before. The car's -gears bellowed pain at their abuse, the tires screamed.</p> - -<p>Chandler, prisoned inside himself, recognized that touch. Koitska! He -knew who Rosalie Pan's lover had been. If he had been in doubt his own -voice, raucous and hysterical with rage, told him the truth. All that -long drive it screamed threats and obscenities at him, in Russian and -tortured English.</p> - -<p>The car stopped in front of the TWA facility and, still prisoned, his -body hurried in, bruising itself deliberately against every doorpost -and stick of furniture. "I could have smashed you in the car!" his -voice screamed hoarsely. "It is too merciful. I could have thrown you -into the sea! It is not painful enough."</p> - -<p>In the garage his body stopped and looked wildly around. "Knives, -torches," his lips chanted. "Shall I gouge out eyes? Slit throat?"</p> - -<p>A jar of battery acid stood on a shelf, "<i>Da, da!</i>" screamed Chandler, -stumbling toward it. "One drink eh? And I von't even stay vith you to -feel it, the pain—just a moment—then it eats the gut, the long slow -dying...." And all the time the body that was Chandler's was clawing -the cap off the jar, tilting it—</p> - -<p>He dropped the jar, and leaped aside instinctively as it splintered at -his feet.</p> - -<p>He was free!</p> - -<p>Before he could move he was seized again, stumbled, crashed into a -wall—</p> - -<p>And was free again.</p> - -<p>He stood waiting for a moment, unable to believe it; but he was still -free. The alien invader did not seize his mind. There was no sound. No -one moved. No gun fired at him, no danger threatened.</p> - -<p>He <i>was</i> free; he took a step, turned, shook his head and proved it.</p> - -<p>He was free and, in a moment, realized that he was in the building with -the fat bloated body of the man who wanted to murder him, the body that -in its own strength could scarcely stand erect.</p> - -<p>It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his -life—except—that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had -nothing left to lose.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">XIV</p> - - -<p>Chandler loped silently up the stairs to Koitska's suite.</p> - -<p>Halfway up he tripped and sprawled, half stunning himself against the -stair rail. It had not been his own clumsiness, he was sure. Koitska -had caught at his mind again, but only feebly. Chandler did not wait. -Whatever was interfering with Koitska's control, some distraction or -malfunction of the coronet or whatever, Chandler could not bank on its -lasting.</p> - -<p>The door was locked.</p> - -<p>He found a heavy mahogany chair, with a back of solid carved wood. He -flung it onto his shoulders, grunting, and ran with it into the door, -a bull driven frantic, lunging out of its querencia to batter the wall -of the arena. The door splintered.</p> - -<p>Chandler was gashed with long slivers of wood, but he was through the -door.</p> - -<p>Koitska lay sprawled along his couch, eyes staring.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus6.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Alive or dead? Chandler did not wait to find out but sprang at him -hands outstreched. The staring eyes flickered; Chandler felt the pull -at his mind. But Koitska's strength was almost gone. The eyes glazed, -and Chandler was upon him. He ripped the coronet off and flung it -aside, and the huge bulk of Koitska swung paralytically off the couch -and fell to the floor.</p> - -<p>The man was helpless. He lay breathing like a steam engine, one eye -pressed shut against the leg of a coffee table, the other looking up at -Chandler.</p> - -<p>Chandler was panting almost as hard as the helpless mass at his feet. -He was safe for a moment. At the most for a moment, for at any time -one of the other execs might dart down out of the mind-world into the -real, looking at the scene through Chandler's eyes and surely deducing -what would be no more to his favor than the truth. He had to get away -from there. If he seemed busy in another room perhaps they would go -away again. Chandler turned his back on the paralyzed monster to flee. -It would be even better to try to lose himself in Honolulu—if he -could get that far—he did not in his own flesh know how to fly the -helicopter that was parked in the yard or he would try to get farther -still.</p> - -<p>But as he turned he was caught.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chandler turned to see Koitska lying there, and screamed.</p> - -<p>His eyes were staring at Koitska. It was too late. He was possessed by -someone, he did not know whom. Though it made little enough difference, -he thought, watching his own hands reach out to touch the staring face.</p> - -<p>His body straightened, his eyes looked around the room, he went to the -desk. "Love," he cried to himself, "what's the matter with Koitska? -Write, for God's sake!" And he took a pencil in his hand and was free.</p> - -<p>He hesitated, then scribbled: <i>I don't know. I think he had a stroke. -Who are you?</i></p> - -<p>The other mind slipped tentatively into his, scanning the paper. -"Rosie, you idiot, who did you think?" he said furiously. "What have -you done?"</p> - -<p><i>Nothing</i>, he began instinctively, then scratched the word out. -Briskly and exactly he wrote: <i>He was going to kill me, but he had some -kind of an attack. I took his coronet away. I was going to run.</i></p> - -<p>"Oh, you fool," he told himself shrilly a moment later. Chandler's -body knelt beside the wheezing fat lump, taking its pulse. The faint, -fitful throb meant nothing to Chandler; probably meant nothing to Rosie -either, for his body stood up, hesitated, shook its head. "You've done -it now," he sobbed, and was surprised to find he was weeping real -tears. "Oh, love, why? I could have taken care of Koitska—somehow—No, -maybe I couldn't," he said frantically, breaking down. "I don't know -what to do. Do you have any ideas—outside of running?"</p> - -<p>It took him several seconds to write the one word, but it was really -all he could find to write. <i>No.</i></p> - -<p>His lips twisted as his eyes read the word. "Well," he said -practically, "I guess that's the end, love. I mean, I give up."</p> - -<p>He got up, turned around the room. "I don't know," he told himself -worriedly. "There might be a chance—if we could hush this up. I'd -better get a doctor. He'll have to use your body, so don't be surprised -if there's someone and it isn't me. Maybe he can pull Andrei through. -Maybe Andrei'll forgive you then—Or if he dies," Chandler's voice -schemed as his eyes stared at the rasping motionless hulk, "we can say -you broke down the door to <i>help</i> him. Only you'll have to put his -coronet back on, so it won't look suspicious. Besides that will keep -anyone from occupying him. Do that, love. Hurry." And he was free.</p> - -<p>Gingerly Chandler crossed the floor.</p> - -<p>He did not like to touch the dying animal that wheezed before him, -liked even less to give it back the weapon that, if it had only a few -moments of sentience again, it would use to kill him. But the girl was -right. Without the helmet any wandering curi-himself.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The helmet -would shield him from—</p> - -<p>Would shield anyone from—</p> - -<p>Would shield Chandler himself from possession if he used it!</p> - -<p>He did not hesitate. He slipped the helmet on his head, snapped the -switch and in a moment stood free of his own body, in the gray, -luminous limbo, looking down at the pallid traceries that lay beneath.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He did not hesitate then either.</p> - -<p>He did not pause to think or plan; it was as though he had planned -every step, in long detail, over many years. Chandler for at least a -few moments had the freedom to battle the execs on their own ground, -the freedom that any mourning parent or husband in the outside world -would know well how to use.</p> - -<p>Chandler also knew. He was a weapon. He might die—but it was not a -great thing to die, millions had done it for nothing under the rule -of the execs, and he was privileged to be able to die trying to kill -<i>them</i>.</p> - -<p>He stepped callously around the hulk on the floor and found a door -behind the couch, a door and a hall, and at the end of that hall a -large room that had once perhaps been a message center. Now it held -rack after rack of electronic gear. He recognized it without elation. -It had had to be there.</p> - -<p>It was the main transmitter for all the coronets of the exec.</p> - -<p>He had only to pull one switch—that one there—and power would cease -to flow. The coronets would be dead. The execs would be only humans. -In five minutes he could destroy enough parts so that it would be at -least a week's work to build it again, and in a week the slaves in -Honolulu—somehow he could reach them, somehow he would tell them of -their chance—could root out and destroy every exec on all the islands.</p> - -<p>Of course, there was the standby transmitter he himself had helped to -build.</p> - -<p>He realized tardily that Koitska would have made some arrangement for -starting that up by remote control.</p> - -<p>He put down the tool-kit with which he had been advancing on the racks -of transistors, and paused to think.</p> - -<p>He was a fool, he saw after a moment. He could not destroy this -installation—not yet—not until he had used it. He remembered to sit -down so that his body would not crash to the floor, and then he sent -himself out and up, to scan the nearby area.</p> - -<p>There was no one there, nobody within a mile or more, except the feeble -glimmer that was dying Koitska. He did not enter that body. He returned -to his own long enough to barricade the door—it had a strong-looking -lock, but he shouldered furniture against it too—and then he went -up and out, grateful to Rosalie, who had taught him how to navigate -in the curious world of the mind, flashing across water, under a -mind-controlled plane, to the island of Hilo.</p> - -<p>There <i>had</i> to be someone near the standby installation.</p> - -<p>He searched; but there was no one. No one in the building. No one near -the ruined field. No one in the village of the dead nearby. He was -desperate; he became frantic; he was on the point of giving up, and -then he found—someone? But it was a personality feebler than stricken -Koitska's, a bare swampfire glow.</p> - -<p>No matter. He entered it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At once he screamed silently and left it again. He had never known such -pain. A terrifying fire in the belly, a thunder past any migraine in -the head, a thousand lesser aches and woes in every member. He could -not imagine what person lived in such distress; but grimly he forced -himself to enter again.</p> - -<p>Moaning—it was astonishing how thick and animal-like the man's voice -was—Chandler forced his borrowed body stumbling through the jungle. -Time was growing very short. He drove it gasping at an awkward run -across the airfield, dodged around one wrecked plane and blundered -through the door. The pain was intolerable. He was hardly able to -maintain control.</p> - -<p>Chandler stretched out the borrowed hand to pick up a heavy wrench even -while he thought. But the hand would not grasp. He brought it to the -weak, watering eyes. The hand had no fingers. It ended in a ball of -scar tissue. The left hand was nearly as misshapen.</p> - -<p>Panicked, Chandler retreated from the body in a flash, back to his -own; and then he began to think.</p> - -<p>It was, it had to be, the creature he had seen in the village of the -dead. A leper. One of the few who escaped from the colony at Molokai. -Chandler drove himself back to that body and, though it could not work -well, he could make it turn a frequency dial, using its clubbed hands -like sticks. He could make it throw a switch. He then caused it to -place the toothed edge of a rusting saw on the ground and strike at it -with its throat in a sort of reverse guillotine. Chandler could not see -that he had a choice; he dared not have that creature left where it -might be seized the moment he quit its body. It was better dead.</p> - -<p>After that it all became easy.</p> - -<p>In his own body he destroyed the installation in Oahu. A few minutes -at Koitska's work bench, and he had changed the frequency on his own -coronet to transmit on the new band the leper's touch had given the -Hilo equipment.</p> - -<p>He worked rapidly and without errors, one ear cocked for the sound of -someone coming to threaten what he was doing (the sound never came), -impatient to get the job done.</p> - -<p>He was very impatient, for when he was done he would be the only exec.</p> - -<p>And the execs would be only slaves.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">XV</p> - - -<p>Chandler strolled out of the TWA building, very tired.</p> - -<p>It was dawn. His job was done. He carried the coronet, the only working -coronet in the world, in his hand. He had spent the night killing, -killing, killing, and blood had washed away his passions; he was spent. -He had killed every exec he could find, in widening circles from the -building where his body lay. He had slit his dozen throats and fired -bullets into his hundred hearts and hundred brains; he had entered -bodies only long enough to feel for a coronet, and if it was there the -body was doomed; and he stopped only when it occurred to him he wasn't -even doing that much any more. He had probably killed some dozens of -slaves, as well as all the execs in reach. And when he stopped the orgy -of killing he had made one last search of the nearer portions of the -island and found no one alive, and he had then realized that one of the -closest execs had been Rosalie Pan.</p> - -<p>He knew that in a while he would feel very badly for having killed that -girl (which could she have been? The one with the shotgun in the mouth? -The one whose intestines he had spilled with a silver letteropener in a -whim of hara-kiri?), but just now he was too worn.</p> - -<p>He was Chandler the giant killer, who had destroyed the creatures -who had destroyed a world, but he was all tired out. He poked at the -filigree of the coronet absently, as a man might caress the pretty rug -which once had been the skin of a tiger that almost killed him. It was -all that was left of the exec power. Who held this single coronet still -held the world.</p> - -<p>Of course, said a sly and treasonable voice in a corner of his mind, -the job was not really done.</p> - -<p>Not quite. Not all.</p> - -<p>The job would not be done until it was impossible for anyone to find -enough of the installations to be able to reconstruct them.</p> - -<p>And then, said the voice, while Chandler stared at the dawn, listening, -what about the <i>good</i> things the exec had done? Would he not be foolish -to throw away so casually this one, unique chance to right every -imaginable wrong the world might do him?</p> - -<p>Chandler went back into the building and brewed some strong black -coffee. While it was bubbling on the stove he slipped the coronet back -atop his head. Only for a while, he promised. A very little while. He -pledged himself solemnly that it would be just long enough to clean up -all loose ends—not a moment longer, he pledged. And knew that he was -lying.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Transcriber's note: As printed. Missing words, probably -printer error.</p></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Plague of Pythons, by Frederik Pohl - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAGUE OF PYTHONS *** - -***** This file should be named 51804-h.htm or 51804-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/8/0/51804/ - -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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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: Plague of Pythons - -Author: Frederik Pohl - -Release Date: April 19, 2016 [EBook #51804] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAGUE OF PYTHONS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - PLAGUE OF PYTHONS - - By FREDERIK POHL - - Illustrated by RITTER - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Magazine October and December 1962. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - The pythons had entered into Mankind. No man - knew at what moment he might be Possessed! - - -Because of the crowd they held Chandler's trial in the all-purpose room -of the high school. It smelled of leather and stale sweat. He walked up -the three steps to the stage, with the bailiff's hand on his elbow, and -took his place at the defendant's table. - -Chandler's lawyer looked at him without emotion. He was appointed by -the court. He was willing to do his job, but his job didn't require him -to like his client. All he said was, "Stand up. The judge is coming in." - -Chandler got to his feet and leaned on the table while the bailiff -chanted his call and the chaplain read some verses from John. He did -not listen. The Bible verse came too late to help him, and besides he -ached. - -When the police arrested him they had not been gentle. There were four -of them. They were from the plant's own security force and carried -no guns. They didn't need any; Chandler had put up no resistance -after the first few moments--that is, he stopped as soon as he could -stop--but the police hadn't stopped. He remembered that very clearly. -He remembered the nightstick across the side of his head that left his -ear squashed and puffy, he remembered the kick in the gut that still -made walking painful. He even remembered the series of blows about the -skull that had knocked him out. - -The bruises along his rib cage and left arm, though, he did not -remember getting. Obviously the police had been mad enough to keep -right on subduing him after he was already unconscious. - -Chandler did not blame them--exactly. He supposed he would have done -the same thing. - -The judge was having a long mumble with the court stenographer -apparently about something which had happened in the Union House the -night before. Chandler knew Judge Ellithorp slightly. He did not -expect to get a fair trial. The previous December the judge himself, -while possessed, had smashed the transmitter of the town's radio -station, which he owned, and set fire to the building it occupied. His -son-in-law had been killed in the fire. - -Laughing, the judge waved the reporter back to his seat and glanced -around the courtroom. His gaze touched Chandler lightly, like the -flick of the hanging strands of cord that precede a railroad tunnel. -The touch carried the same warning. What lay ahead for Chandler was -destruction. - -"Read the charge," ordered Judge Ellithorp. He spoke very loudly. -There were more than six hundred persons in the auditorium; the judge -didn't want any of them to miss a word. - -The bailiff ordered Chandler to stand and informed him that he was -accused of having, on the seventeenth day of June last, committed on -the person of Margaret Flershem, a minor, an act of rape--"Louder!" -ordered the judge testily. - -"Yes, Your Honor," said the bailiff, and inflated his chest. "An Act -of Rape under Threat of Bodily Violence," he cried; "and Did Further -Commit on the Person of Said Margaret Flershem an Act of Aggravated -Assault--" - -Chandler rubbed his aching side, looking at the ceiling. He remembered -the look in Peggy Flershem's eyes as he forced himself on her. She was -only sixteen years old, and at that time he hadn't even known her name. - -The bailiff boomed on: "--and Did Further Commit on that Same -Seventeenth Day of June Last on the Person of Ingovar Porter an Act of -Assault with Intent to Rape, the Foregoing Being a True Bill Handed -Down by the Grand Jury of Sepulpas County in Extraordinary Session -Assembled, the Eighteenth Day of June Last." - -Judge Ellithorp looked satisfied as the bailiff sat down, quite winded. -While the judge hunted through the papers on his desk the crowd in the -auditorium stirred and murmured. - -A child began to cry. - - * * * * * - -The judge stood up and pounded his gavel. "What is it? What's the -matter with him? You, Dundon!" The court attendant the judge was -looking at hurried over and spoke to the child's mother, then reported -to the judge. - -"I dunno, Your Honor. All he says is something scared him." - -The judge was enraged. "Well, that's just fine! Now we have to take up -the time of all these good people, probably for no reason, and hold up -the business of this court, just because of a child. Bailiff! I want -you to clear this courtroom of all children under--" he hesitated, -calculating voting blocks in his head--"all children under the age -of six. Dr. Palmer, are you there? Well, you better go ahead with -the--prayer." The judge could not make himself say "the exorcism." - -"I'm sorry, madam," he added to the mother of the crying two-year-old. -"If you have someone to leave the child with, I'll instruct the -attendants to save your place for you." She was also a voter. - -Dr. Palmer rose, very grave, as he was embarrassed. He glared around -the all-purpose room, defying anyone to smile, as he chanted: "Domina -Pythonis, I command you, leave! Leave, Hel! Leave, Heloym! Leave, -Sother and Thetragrammaton, leave, all unclean ones! I command you! -In the name of God, in all of His manifestations!" He sat down again, -still very grave. He knew that he did not make nearly as fine a showing -as Father Lon, with his resonant _in nomina Jesu Christi et Sancti -Ubaldi_ and his censer, but the post of exorcist was filled in strict -rotation, one month to a denomination, ever since the troubles started. -Dr. Palmer was a Unitarian. Exorcisms had not been in the curriculum at -the seminary and he had been forced to invent his own. - -Chandler's lawyer tapped him on the shoulder. "Last chance to change -your mind," he said. - -"No. I'm not guilty, and that's the way I want to plead." - -The lawyer shrugged and stood up, waiting for the judge to notice him. - -Chandler, for the first time, allowed himself to meet the eyes of the -crowd. - -He studied the jury first. He knew some of them casually--it was not a -big enough town to command a jury of total strangers for any defendant, -and Chandler had lived there most of his life. He recognized Pop -Matheson, old and very stiff, who ran the railroad station cigar stand. -Two of the other men were familiar as faces passed in the street. The -forewoman, though, was a stranger. She sat there very composed and -frowning, and all he knew about her was that she wore funny hats. -Yesterday's had been red roses when she was selected from the panel; -today's was, of all things, a stuffed bird. - -He did not think that any of them were possessed. He was not so sure of -the audience. - -He saw girls he had dated in high school, long before he met Margot; -men he worked with at the plant. They all glanced at him, but he was -not sure who was looking out through some of those familiar eyes. The -visitors reliably watched all large gatherings, at least momentarily; -it would be surprising if none of them were here. - -"All right, how do you plead," said Judge Ellithorp at last. - -Chandler's lawyer straightened up. "Not guilty, Your Honor, by reason -of temporary pandemic insanity." - -The judge looked pleased. The crowd murmured, but they were -pleased too. They had him dead to rights and it would have been a -disappointment if Chandler had pleaded guilty. They wanted to see -one of the vilest criminals in contemporary human society caught, -exposed, convicted and punished; they did not want to miss a step of -the process. Already in the playground behind the school three deputies -from the sheriff's office were loading their rifles, while the school -janitor chalked lines around the handball court to mark where the crowd -witnessing the execution would be permitted to stand. - - * * * * * - -The prosecution made its case very quickly. Mrs. Porter testified -that she worked at McKelvey Bros., the antibiotics plant, where the -defendant also worked. Yes, that was him. She had been attracted by the -noise from the culture room last--let's see--"Was it the seventeenth -day of June last?" prompted the prosecutor, and Chandler's attorney -instinctively gathered his muscles to rise, hesitated, glanced at -his client and shrugged. That was right, it was the seventeenth. -Incautiously she went right into the room. She should have known -better, she admitted. She should have called the plant police right -away, but, well, they hadn't had any trouble at the plant, you -know, and--well, she didn't. She was a stupid woman, for all that -she was rather good-looking, and insatiably curious. She had seen -Peggy Flershem on the floor. "She was all _blood_. And her clothes -were--And she was, I mean her--her body was--" With relentless tact the -prosecutor allowed her to stammer out her observation that the girl had -clearly been raped. And she had seen Chandler laughing and breaking up -the place, throwing racks of cultures through the windows, upsetting -trays. Of course she had crossed herself and tried a quick exorcism but -there was no visible effect; then Chandler had leaped at her. "He was -_hateful_! He was just _foul_!" But as he began to attack her the plant -police came, drawn by her screams. - -Chandler's attorney did not question. - -Peggy Flershem's deposition was introduced without objection from the -defense. But she had little to say anyway, having been dazed at first -and unconscious later. The plant police testified to having arrested -Chandler; a doctor described in chaste medical words the derangements -Chandler had worked on Peggy Flershem's virgin anatomy. There was no -question from Chandler's lawyer--and, for that matter, nothing to -question. Chandler did not hope to pretend that he had not ravished and -nearly killed one girl, then done his best to repeat the process on -another. Sitting there as the doctor testified, Chandler was able to -tally every break and bruise against the memory of what his own body -had done. He had been a spectator then, too, as remote from the event -as he was now; but that was why they had him on trial. That was what -they did not believe. - -At twelve-thirty the prosecution rested its case, Judge Ellithorp -looking very pleased. He recessed the court for one hour for lunch, and -the guards took Chandler back to the detention cell in the basement of -the school. - -Two Swiss cheese sandwiches and a wax-paper carton of chocolate -milk were on the desk. They were Chandler's lunch. As they had been -standing, the sandwiches were crusty and the milk lukewarm. He ate them -anyway. He knew what the judge looked pleased about. At one-thirty -Chandler's lawyer would put him on the stand, and no one would pay -very much attention to what he had to say, and the jury would be out -at most twenty minutes, and the verdict would be guilty. The judge was -pleased because he would be able to pronounce sentence no later than -four o'clock, no matter what. They had formed the habit of holding the -executions at sundown. As, at that time of year, sundown was after -seven, it would all go very well--for everyone but Chandler. For -Chandler it would be the end. - - -II - -The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was -innocent--in a way, that is--but that many who were guilty (in a way; -as guilty as he himself, at any rate) were free and honored citizens. -Chandler himself was a widower because his own wife had been murdered. -He had seen the murderer leaving the scene of the crime, and the man -he had seen was in the courtroom today, watching Chandler's own trial. -Of the six hundred or so in the court, at least fifty were known to -have taken part in one or more provable acts of murder, rape, arson, -theft, sodomy, vandalism, assault and battery or a dozen other offenses -indictable under the laws of the state. Of course, that could be said -of almost any community in the world in those years; Chandler's was not -unique. What had put Chandler in the dock was not what his body had -been seen to do, but the place in which it had been seen to do it. For -everybody knew that medicine and agriculture were never molested by the -demons. - -Chandler's own lawyer had pointed that out to him the day before the -trial. "If it was anywhere but at the McKelvey plant, all right, but -there's never been any trouble there. You know that. The trouble with -you laymen is you think of lawyers in terms of Perry Mason, right? -Rabbit out of the hat stuff. Well, I can't do that. I can only present -your case, whatever it is, the best way possible. And the best thing -I can do for your case right now is tell you you haven't got one." At -that time the lawyer was still trying to be fair. He was even casting -around for some thought he could use to convince himself that his -client was innocent, though he had frankly admitted as soon as he -introduced himself that he didn't have much hope there. - -Chandler protested that he didn't have to commit rape. He'd been a -widower for a year, but-- - -"Wait a minute," said the lawyer. "Listen. You can't make an ordinary -claim of possession stick, but what about good old-fashioned insanity?" -Chandler looked puzzled, so the lawyer explained. Wasn't it possible -that Chandler was--consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously, call it -what you will--trying to get revenge for what had happened to his own -wife? - -No, said Chandler, certainly not! But then he had to stop and think. -After all, he had never been possessed before; in fact, he had always -retained a certain skepticism about "possession"--it seemed like such a -convenient way for anyone to do any illicit thing he chose--until the -moment when he looked up to see Peggy Flershem walking into the culture -room with a tray of agar disks, and was astonished to find himself -striking her with the wrench in his hand and ripping at her absurdly -floral-printed slacks. Maybe his case was different. Maybe it wasn't -the sort of possession that struck at random; maybe he was just off his -rocker. - -Margot, his wife, had been cut up cruelly. He had seen his friend, Jack -Souther, leaving his home hurriedly as he approached; and although he -had thought that the stains on his clothes looked queerly like blood, -nothing in that prepared him for what he found in the rumpus room. -It had taken him some time to identify the spread-out dissection on -the floor with his wife Margot.... "No," he told his lawyer, "I was -shaken up, of course. The worst time was the next night, when there -was a knock on the door and I opened it and it was Jack. He'd come -to apologize. I--fell apart; but I got over it. I tell you I was -possessed, that's all." - -"And I tell you that defense will put you right in front of a firing -squad," said his lawyer. "And _that's_ all." - - * * * * * - -Five or six others had been executed for hoaxing; Chandler was familiar -with the ritual. He even understood it, in a way. The world had gone to -pot in the previous two years. The real enemy was out of reach; when -any citizen might run wild and, when caught, relapse into his own self, -terrified and sick, there was a need to strike back. But the enemy was -invisible. The hoaxers were only whipping boys--but they were the only -targets vengeance had. - -The real enemy had struck the entire world in a single night. One -day the people of the world went about their business in the gloomy -knowledge that they were likely to make mistakes but with, at least, -the comfort that the mistakes would be their own. The next day had -no such comfort. The next day anyone, anywhere, was likely to find -himself seized, possessed, working evil or whimsy without intention and -helplessly. - -Chandler stood up, kicked the balled-up wax paper from his sandwiches -across the floor and swore violently. - -He was beginning to wake from the shock that had gripped him. "Damn -fool," he said to himself. He had no particular reason. Like the -world, he needed a whipping boy too, if only himself. "Damn fool, you -know they're going to shoot you!" - -He stretched and twisted his body violently, alone in the middle of the -room, in silence. He _had_ to wake up. He _had_ to start thinking. In a -quarter of an hour or less the court would reconvene, and from then it -was only a steady, quick slide to the grave. - -It was better to do anything than to do nothing. He examined the -windows of his improvised cell. They were above his head and barred; -standing on the table, he could see feet walking outside, in the paved -play-yard of the school. He discarded the thought of escaping that -way; there was no one to smuggle him a file, and there was no time. -He studied the door to the hall. It was not impossible that when the -guard opened it he could jump him, knock him out, run ... run where? -The room had been a storage place for athletic equipment at the end of -a hall; the hall led only to the stairs and the stairs emerged into the -courtroom. It was quite likely, he thought, that the hall had another -flight of stairs somewhere farther along, or through another room. What -had he spent his taxes on these years, if not for schools designed with -more than one exit in case of fire? But as he had not thought to mark -an escape route when he was brought in, it did him no good. - -The guard, however, had a gun. Chandler lifted up an edge of the table -and tried to shake one of the legs. They did not shake; that part of -his taxes had been well enough spent, he thought wryly. The chair? -Could he smash the chair to get a club, which would give him a weapon -to get the guard's gun?... - -Before he reached the chair the door opened and his lawyer came in. - -"Sorry I'm late," he said briskly. "Well. As your attorney I have to -tell you they've presented a damaging case. As I see it--" - -"What case?" Chandler demanded. "I never denied the acts. What else did -they prove?" - -"Oh, God!" said his lawyer, not quite loudly enough to be insulting. -"Do we have to go over that again? Your claim of possession would make -a defense if it had happened anywhere else. We know that these cases -exist, but we also know that they follow a pattern. Some areas seem to -be immune--medical establishments, pharmaceutical plants among them. So -they proved that all this happened in a pharmaceutical plant. I advise -you to plead guilty." - -Chandler sat down on the edge of the table, controlling himself very -well, he thought. He only asked: "Would that do me any good at all?" - -The lawyer reflected, gazing at the ceiling. "... No. I guess it -wouldn't." - -Chandler nodded. "So what else shall we talk about? Want to compare -notes about where you were and I was the night the President went -possessed?" - -The lawyer was irritated. He kept his mouth shut for a moment until he -thought he could keep from showing it. Outside a vendor was hawking -amulets: "St. Ann beads! Witch knots! Fresh garlic, local grown, best -in town!" The lawyer shook his head. - -"All right," he said, "it's your life. We'll do it your way. Anyway, -time's up; Sergeant Grantz will be banging on the door any minute." - -He zipped up his briefcase. Chandler did not move. "They don't give -us much time anyway," the lawyer added, angry at Chandler and at -hoaxers in general but not willing to say so. "Grantz is a stickler for -promptness." - -Chandler found a crumb of cheese by his hand and absently ate it. The -lawyer watched him and glanced at his watch. "Oh, hell," he said, -picked up his briefcase and kicked the base of the door. "Grantz! -What's the matter with you? You asleep out there?" - - * * * * * - -Chandler was sworn, gave his name, admitted the truth of everything the -previous witnesses had said. The faces were still aimed at him, every -one. He could not read them at all any more, could not tell if they -were friendly or hating, there were too many and they all had eyes. The -jurors sat on their funeral-parlor chairs like cadavers, embalmed and -propped, the dead witnessing a wake for the living. Only the forewoman -in the funny hat showed signs of life, looking alertly at Chandler, -at the judge, at the man next to her, around the auditorium. Maybe it -was a good sign. At least she did not have the frozen in concrete, -guilty-as-hell look of the others. - -His attorney asked him the question he had been waiting for: "Tell -us, in your own words, what happened." Chandler opened his mouth, and -paused. Curiously, he had forgotten what he wanted to say. He had -rehearsed this moment again and again; but all that came out was: - -"I didn't do it. I mean, I did the acts, but I was possessed. That's -all. Others have done worse, under the same circumstances, and been -let off. Just as Fisher was acquitted for murdering the Learnards, as -Draper got off after what he did to the Cline boy. As Jack Souther -over there was let off after he murdered my own wife. They should -be. They couldn't help themselves. Whatever this thing is that takes -control, I know it can't be fought. My God, you can't even _try_ to -fight it!" - -He was not getting through. The faces had not changed. The forewoman -of the jury was now searching systematically through her pocketbook, -taking each item out and examining it, putting it back and taking -out another. But between times she looked at him and at least her -expression wasn't hostile. He said, addressing her: - -"That's all there is to it. It wasn't me running my body. It was -someone else. I swear it before all of you, and before God." - -The prosecutor did not bother to question him. - -Chandler went back to his seat and sat down and watched the next twenty -minutes go by in the wink of an eye, rapid, rapid, they were in a hurry -to shoot him. He could hardly believe that Judge Ellithorp could speak -so fast, the jurymen rise and file out at a gallop, zip, whisk, and -they were back again. Too fast! he cried silently, time had gone into -high gear; but he knew that it was only his imagination. The twenty -minutes had been a full twelve hundred seconds. And then time, as if -to make amends, came to a stop, abrupt, brakes-on. The judge asked the -jury for their verdict and it was an eternity before the forewoman -arose. - -She was beginning to look rather disheveled. Beaming at -Chandler--_surely_ the woman was rather odd, it couldn't be just his -imagination--she fumbled in her pocketbook for the slip of paper with -the verdict. But she wore an expression of suppressed laughter. - -"I _knew_ I had it," she cried triumphantly and waved the slip above -her head. "Now, let's see." She held it before her eyes and squinted. -"Oh, yes. Judge, we the jury, and so forth and so on--" - -She paused to wink at Judge Ellithorp. An uncertain worried murmur -welled up in the auditorium. "All that junk, Judge," she explained, -"anyway, we unanimously--but _unanimously_, love!--find this son of a -bitch innocent. Why," she giggled, "we think he ought to get a medal, -you know? I tell you what you do, love, you go right over and give him -a big wet kiss and say you're sorry." She kept on talking, but no one -heard. The murmur became a mass scream. - -"Stop, stop her!" bawled the judge, dropping his glasses. "Bailiff!" - -The scream became a word, in many voices chorused: _Possessed!_ And -beyond doubt the woman was. The men around her hurled themselves away, -as from leprosy among them, and then washed back like a lynch mob. She -was giggling as they fell on her. "Got a cigarette? No cigarettes in -this lousy bag--oh." She screamed as they touched her, went limp and -screamed again. - -It was a different note this time, pure hysteria: "I couldn't _stop_. -Oh, _God_." - - * * * * * - -Chandler caught his lawyer by the arm and jerked him away from staring -at the scene. All of a sudden he was alive again. "You, damn it. -Listen! The jury acquitted me, right?" - -The lawyer was startled. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a clear case of--" - -"Be a lawyer, man! You live on technicalities, don't you? Make this one -work for me!" - -The attorney gave him a queer, thoughtful look, hesitated, shrugged and -got to his feet. He had to shout to be heard. "Your honor! I take it my -client is free to go." - -He made almost as much of a stir as the sobbing woman, but he -outshouted the storm. "The jury's verdict is on record. Granted there -was an _apparent_ case of possession. Nevertheless--" - -Judge Ellithorp yelled back: "No nonsense, you! Listen to me, young -man--" - -The lawyer snapped, "Permission to approach the bench." - -"Granted." - -Chandler sat unable to move, watching the brief, stormy conference. -It was painful to be coming back to life. It was agony to hope. At -least, he thought detachedly, his lawyer was fighting for him; the -prosecutor's face was a thundercloud. - -The lawyer came back, with the expression of a man who has won a -victory he did not expect, and did not want. "Your last chance, -Chandler. Change your plea to guilty." - -"But--" - -"Don't push your luck, boy! The judge has agreed to accept a plea. -They'll throw you out of town, of course. But you'll be alive." -Chandler hesitated. "Make up your mind! The best I can do otherwise is -a mistrial, and that means you'll get convicted by another jury next -week." - -Chandler said, testing his luck: "You're sure they'll keep their end of -the bargain?" - -The lawyer shook his head, his expression that of a man who smells -something unpleasant. "Your honor! I ask you to discharge the jury. My -client wishes to change his plea." - -... In the school's chemistry lab, an hour later, Chandler discovered -that the lawyer had left out one little detail. Outside there was a -sound of motors idling, the police car that would dump him at the -town's limits; inside was a thin, hollow hiss. It was the sound of a -Bunsen burner, and in its blue flame a crudely shaped iron changed -slowly from cherry to orange to glowing straw. It had the shape of a -letter "H". - -"H" for "hoaxer." The mark they were about to put on his forehead would -be with him wherever he went and as long as he lived, which would -probably not be long. "H" for "hoaxer," so that a glance would show -that he had been convicted of the worst offense of all. - -No one spoke to him as the sheriff's man took the iron out of the fire, -but three husky policemen held his arms while he screamed. - - -III - -The pain was still burning when Chandler awoke the next day. He wished -he had a bandage, but he didn't, and that was that. - -He was in a freight car--had hopped it on the run at the yards, daring -to sneak back into town long enough for that. He could not hope to -hitchhike, with that mark on him. Anyway, hitchhiking was an invitation -to trouble. - -The railroads were safer--far safer than either cars or air transport, -notoriously a lightning-rod attracting possession. Chandler was -surprised when the train came crashing to a stop, each freight car -smashing against the couplings of the one ahead, the engine jolting -forward and stopping again. - -Then there was silence. It endured. - -Chandler, who had been slowly waking after a night of very little -sleep, sat up against the wall of the boxcar and wondered what was -wrong. - -It seemed remiss to start a day without signing the Cross or hearing a -few exorcismal verses. It seemed to be mid-morning, time for work to -be beginning at the plant. The lab men would be streaming in, their -amulets examined at the door. The chaplains would be wandering about, -ready to pray a possessing spirit out. Chandler, who kept an open mind, -had considerable doubt of the effectiveness of all the amulets and -spells--certainly they had not kept him from a brutal rape--but he felt -uneasy without them.... The train still was not moving. In the silence -he could hear the distant huffing of the engine. - -He went to the door, supporting himself with one hand on the wooden -wall, and looked out. - -The tracks followed the roll of a river, their bed a few feet higher -than an empty three-lane highway, which in turn was a dozen feet above -the water. As he looked out the engine brayed twice. The train jolted -uncertainly, then stopped again. - -Then there was a very long time when nothing happened at all. - -From Chandler's car he could not see the engine. He was on the convex -of the curve, and the other door of the car was sealed. He did not need -to see it to know that something was wrong. There should have been a -brakeman running with a flare to ward off other trains; but there was -not. There should have been a station, or at least a water tank, to -account for the stop in the first place. There was not. Something had -gone wrong, and Chandler knew what it was. Not the details, but the -central fact that lay behind this and behind almost everything that -went wrong these days. - -The engineer was possessed. It had to be that. - -Yet it was odd, he thought, as odd as his own trouble. He had chosen -this car with care. It contained eight refrigerator cars full of -pharmaceuticals, and if anything was known about the laws governing -possession, as his lawyer had told him, it was that such things were -almost never interfered with. - -Chandler jumped down to the roadbed, slipped on the crushed rock and -almost fell. He had forgotten the wound on his forehead. He clutched -the sill of the car door, where an ankh and fleur-de-lis had been -chalked to ward off demons, until the sudden rush of blood subsided and -the pain began to relent. After a moment he walked gingerly to the end -of the car, slipped between the cars, dodged the couplers and climbed -the ladder to its roof. - -It was a warm, bright, silent day. Nothing moved. From his height he -could see the Diesel at the front of the train and the caboose at its -rear. No people. The train was halted a quarter-mile from where the -tracks swooped across the river on a suspension bridge. Away from the -river, the side of the tracks that had been hidden from him before, was -an uneven rock cut and, above it, the slope of a mountain. - -By looking carefully he could spot the signs of a number of homes -within half a mile or so--the corner of a roof, a glassed-in porch -built to command a river view, a twenty-foot television antenna poking -through the trees. There was also the curve of a higher road along -which the homes were strung. - -Chandler took thought. He was alive and free, two gifts more gracious -than he had had any right to expect. However, he would need food and -he would need at least some sort of bandage for his forehead. He had -a wool cap, stolen from the high school, which would hide the mark, -though what it would do to the burn on his skin was something else -again. - -Chandler climbed down the ladder. With considerable pain he gentled -the cap over the great raw H on his forehead and began to climb the -mountain. - - * * * * * - -He knocked on the first door he came to, a great old three-story house -with well tended gardens. - -There was a wait. The air smelled warmly of honeysuckle and mown -grass, with wild onions chopped down by the blades of the mower. It -was pleasant, or would have been in happier times. He knocked again, -peremptorily, and the door was opened at once. Evidently someone had -been right inside, listening. - -A man stared at him. "Stranger, what do you want?" He was short, plump, -with an extremely thick and unkempt beard. It did not appear to have -been grown for its own sake, for where the facial hair could not be -coaxed to grow his skin had the gross pits of old acne. - -Chandler said glibly: "Good morning. I'm working my way east. I need -something to eat and I'm willing to work for it." - -The man withdrew, leaving the upper half of the Dutch door open. As it -looked in on only a vestibule it did not tell Chandler much. There was -one curious thing--a lath and cardboard sign, shaped like an arc of a -rainbow, lettered: - - WELCOME TO ORPHALESE - -He puzzled over it and dismissed it. The entrance room, apart from -the sign, had a knickknack shelf of Japanese carved ivory and an -old-fashioned umbrella rack, but that added nothing to his knowledge. -He had already guessed that the owners of this home were well off. Also -it had been recently painted; so they were not demoralized, as so much -of the world had been demoralized, by the coming of the possessors. -Even the elaborate sculpturing of its hedges had been maintained. - -The man came back and with him was a girl of fifteen or so. She was -tall, slim and rather homely, with a large jaw and an oval face. "Guy, -he's not much to look at," she said to the pockmarked man. "Meggie, -shall I let him in?" he asked. "Guy, you might as well," she -shrugged, staring at Chandler with interest but not sympathy. - -"Stranger, come along," said the man named Guy, and led him through a -short hall into an enormous living room, a room two stories high with a -ten-foot fireplace. - -Chandler's first thought was that he had stumbled in upon a wake. The -room was neatly laid out in rows of folding chairs, more than half of -them occupied. He entered from the side, but all the occupants of the -chairs were looking toward him. He returned their stares; he had had -a good deal of practice lately in looking back at staring faces, he -reflected. "Stranger, go on," said the man who had let him in, nudging -him, "and meet the people of Orphalese." - -Chandler hardly heard him. He had not expected anything like this. It -was a meeting, a Daumier caricature of a Thursday Afternoon Literary -Circle, old men with faces like moons, young women with faces like -hags. They were strained, haggard and fearful, and a surprising number -of them showed some sort of physical defect, a bandaged leg, an arm in -a sling or merely the marks of pain on the features. "Stranger, go in," -repeated the man, and it was only then that Chandler noticed the man -was holding a pistol, pointed at his head. - - * * * * * - -Chandler sat in the rear of the room, watching. There must be thousands -of little colonies like this, he reflected; with the breakdown of -long-distance communication the world had been atomized. There was a -real fear, well justified, of living in large groups, for they too were -lightning rods for possession. The world was stumbling along, but it -was lame in all its members; a planetary lobotomy had stolen from it -its wisdom and plan. If, he reflected dryly, it had ever had any. - -But of course things were better in the old days. The world had seemed -on the brink of blowing itself up, but at least it was by its own hand. -Then came Christmas. - -It had happened at Christmas, and the first sign was on nation-wide -television. The old President, balding, grave and plump, was making a -special address to the nation, urging good will to men and, please, -artificial trees because of the fire danger in the event of H-bomb -raids; in the middle of a sentence twenty million viewers had seen him -stop, look dazedly around and say, in a breathless mumble, what sounded -like: "_Disht dvornyet ilgt_." He had then picked up the Bible on the -desk before him and thrown it at the television camera. - -The last the televiewers had seen was the fluttering pages of the Book, -growing larger as it crashed against the lens, then a flicker and a -blinding shot of the studio lights as the cameraman jumped away and -the instrument swiveled to stare mindlessly upward. Twenty minutes -later the President was dead, as his Secretary of Health and Welfare, -hurrying with him back to the White House, calmly took a hand grenade -from a Marine guard at the gate and blew the President's party to -fragments. - -For the President's seizure was only the first and most conspicuous. -"_Disht dvornyet ilgt._" C.I.A. specialists were playing the tapes -of the broadcast feverishly, electronically cleaning the mumble and -stir from the studio away from the words to try to learn, first, the -language and second what the devil it meant; but the President who -ordered it was dead before the first reel spun, and his successor was -not quite sworn in when it became his time to die. The ceremony was -interrupted for an emergency call from the War Room, where a very -nearly hysterical four-star general was trying to explain why he had -ordered the immediate firing of every live missile in his command -against Washington, D. C. - -Over five hundred missiles were involved. In most of the sites the -order was disobeyed, but in six of them, unfortunately, unquestioning -discipline won out, thus ending not only the swearing in, the general's -weeping explanation, the spinning of tapes, but also some two million -lives in the District of Columbia, Maryland, Virginia and (through -malfunctioning relays on two missiles) Pennsylvania and Vermont. But it -was only the beginning. - - * * * * * - -These were the first cases of possession seen by the world in some -five hundred years, since the great casting out of devils of the -Middle Ages. A thousand more occurred in the next few days, a hundred -in the next hours. The timetable was made up out of scattered reports -in the wire-service newsrooms, while they still had facilities -for spot coverage in any part of the world. (That lasted almost a -week.) They identified 237 cases of possession by noon of the next -day. Disregarding the dubious items--the Yankee pitcher who leaped -from the Manhattan bridge (he had Bright's disease), the warden of -San Quentin who seated himself in the gas chamber and, literally, -kicked the bucket (did he know the Grand Jury was subpoenaing his -books?)--disregarding these, the chronology of major cases that evening -was: - -8:27 PM, E.S.T.: President has attack on television. - -8:28 PM, E.S.T.: Prime Minister of England orders bombing raid against -Israel, alleging secret plot (order not carried out). - -8:28 PM, E.S.T.: Captain of SSN _Ethan Allen_, surfaced near Montauk -Point, orders crash dive and course change, proceeding submerged at -flank speed to New York Harbor. - -9:10 PM, E.S.T.: Eastern Airlines six-engine jet makes wheels-up -landing on roof of Pentagon, breaking some 1500 windows but causing no -other major damage (except to the people aboard the jet); record of -this incident fragmentary because entire site charred black in fusion -attack two hours later. - -9:23 PM, E.S.T.: Rosalie Pan, musical-comedy star, jumps off stage, -runs up center aisle and vanishes in cab, wearing beaded bra, G-string -and $2500 headdress. Her movements are traced to Newark airport where -she boards TWA jetliner, which is never seen again. - -9:50 PM, E.S.T.: Entire S.A.C. fleet of 1200 jet bombers takes off -for rendezvous over Newfoundland, where 72% are compelled to ditch -as tankers fail to keep refueling rendezvous. (Orders committing the -aircraft originate with S.A.C. commander, found to be a suicide.) - -10.14 PM, E.S.T.: Submarine fusion explosion destroys 40% of New York -City. Analysis of fallout indicates U.S. Navy Polaris missiles were -detonated underwater in bay; by elimination it is deduced that the -submarine was the _Ethan Allen_. - -10:50 PM, E.S.T.: President's party assassinated by Secretary of -Health, Education and Welfare; Secretary then dies on bayonet of Marine -guard who furnished the grenade. - -10:55 PM, E.S.T. Satellite stations observe great nuclear explosions in -China and Tibet. - -11:03 PM, E.S.T.: Heavily loaded munitions barges exploded near North -Sea dikes of Holland; dikes breached, 1800 square miles of reclaimed -land flooded out.... - -And so on. The incidents were countless. But before long, before even -the C.I.A. had finished the first playthrough of the tapes, before -their successors in the task identified _Disht dvornyet ilgt_ as a -Ukrainian dialect rendering of, My God, it works!--before all this, one -fact was already apparent. There were many incidents scattered around -the world, but not one of them took place in Russia itself. - - * * * * * - -Warsaw was ablaze, China pockmarked with blasts, East Berlin demolished -along with its western sector, in eight rounds fired from a U.S. Army -nuclear cannon. But the U.S.S.R. had not suffered at all, as far as -could be told by the prying eyes in orbit; and that fact was reason -enough for it to suffer very greatly very soon. - -Within minutes of this discovery what remained of the military strength -of the Western world was roaring through airless space toward the most -likely targets of the East. - -One unscathed missile base in Alaska completed a full shoot, seven -missiles with fusion war-heads. The three American bases that survived -at all in the Mediterranean fired what they had. Even Britain, which -had already watched the fire-tails of the American missiles departing -on suicide missions, managed to resurrect its own two prototype -Blue Streaks from their racks, where they had moldered since the -cancellation of the British missile program. One of these museum-pieces -destroyed itself in launching, but the other chugged painfully across -the sky, the tortoise following the flight of the hares. It arrived a -full half-hour after the newer, hotter missiles. It might as well not -have bothered. There was not much left to destroy. - -It was fortunate for the Communists that most of the Western arsenal -had already spent itself in suicide. What was left wiped out Moscow, -Leningrad and nine other cities. It was even fortunate for the whole -world, for this was the Apocalypse they had dreaded, every possible -nuclear weapon committed. But the circumstances were such--hasty -orders, often at once recalled; confusion; panic--that most were -unfused, many others merely tore great craters in the quickly healing -surface of the sea. The fallout was locally murderous but quite spotty. - -And the conventional forces invading Russia found nothing to fight. The -Russians were as confused as they. There were not many survivors of the -very top brass, and no one seemed to know just what had happened. - -Was the Secretary of the C.P., U.S.S.R. behind that terrible brief -agony? As he was dead before it was over, there was no way to tell. -More than a quarter of a billion lives went into mushroom-shaped -clouds, and nearly half of them were Russian, Latvian, Tatar and -Kalmuck. The Peace Commission squabbled for a month, until the -breakdown of communications cut them off from their governments and -each other; and in that way, for a time, there was peace. - - * * * * * - -This was the sort of peace that was left, thought Chandler looking -around at the queer faces and queerer surroundings, the peace of -medieval baronies, cut off from the world, untouched where the rain -of fallout had passed by but hardly civilized any more. Even his own -home town, trying to take his life in a form of law, reduced at last -to torture and exile to cast him out, was not the civilization he had -grown up in but something new and ugly. - -There was a great deal of talk he did not understand because he could -not quite hear it, though they looked at him. Then Guy, with the gun, -led him up to the front of the room. They had constructed an improvised -platform out of plywood panels resting on squat, heavy boxes that -looked like empty ammunition crates. On the dais was a dentist's chair, -bolted to the plywood; and in the chair, strapped in, baby spotlights -on steel-tube frames glaring on her, was a girl. She looked at Chandler -with regretting eyes but did not speak. - -"Stranger, get up there," said Guy, prodding him from behind, and -Chandler took a plain wooden chair next to the girl. - -"People of Orphalese," cried the teen-age cutie named Meggie, "we have -two more brands to save from the imps!" - -The men and women in the audience cackled or shrilled "Save them! -Save them!" They all had a look of invisible uniforms, Chandler saw, -like baseball players in the lobby of a hotel or soldiers in a diner -outside the gate of their post; they were all of a type. Their type was -something strange. Some were tall, some short; there were old, fat, -lean and young around them; but they all wore about them a look of -glowing excitement, muted by an aura of suffering and pain. They wore, -in a word, the look of bigots. - -The bound girl was not one of them. She might have been twenty years -old or as much as thirty. She might have been pretty. It was hard to -tell; she wore no makeup, her hair strung raggedly to her neck, and -her face was drawn into a tight, lean line. It was her eyes that were -alive. She saw Chandler and she was sorry for him. And he saw, as he -turned to look at her, that she was manacled to the dentist's chair. - -"People of Orphalese," chanted Guy, standing behind Chandler with the -muzzle of the gun against his neck, "the _meeting_ of the Orphalese -Self-Preservation _Society_ will now come to _order_." There was an -approving, hungry murmur from the audience. - -"Well, people of _Orphalese_," Guy went on in his singsong, "the -agenda for the day is first the salvation of we _Orphalese_ on -McGuire's _Mountain_." - -("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.) -A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the -stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler. - -"People of Orphalese, as we are _saved_, do I have your consent to -_pass on_ and proceed to the next order of _business_?" - -("Consent, consent, consent," rolled the echo.) - -"And then the _second_ item of business is to _welcome_ and bring to -grace these two newly _found_ and adopted _souls_." - -The congregation shouted variously: "Bring them to grace! Save them -from the imps! Keep Orphalese from the taint of the beast!" - -Evidently Guy was satisfied. He nodded and became more chatty. "Okay, -people of Orphalese, let's get down to it. We got two new ones, like I -say. Their spirits have gone wandering on the wind, or anyway one of -them has, and you all know the et cetera. They have committed a wrong -unto others and therefore unto themselves. Herself, I mean. Course, the -other one could have a flame spirit in him too." He stared severely at -Chandler. "Boys, keep an eye on him, why don't you?" he said to two -men in the front row, surrendering his gun. "Meggie, you tell about the -female one." - -The teen-aged girl stepped forward and said, in a conversational tone -but with modest pride, "People of Orph'lese, well, I was walking down -the cut and I heard this car coming. Well, I was pretty surprised, you -know. I had to figure what to do. You all know what the trouble is with -cars." - -"The imps!" cried a woman of forty with a face like a catfish. - -The girl nodded. "Most prob'ly. Well, I--I mean, people of Orph'lese, -well, I was by the switchback where we keep the chevvy-freeze hid, so I -just waited till I saw it slowing down for the curve--me out of sight, -you know--and I rolled the chevvy-freeze out nice and it caught the -wheels. Right over!" she cried gleefully. "Off the shoulder, people of -Orph'lese, and into the ditch and over, and I didn't give it a chance -to burn. I cut the switch and I had her! I put a knife into her back, -just a little, about a quarter of an inch, maybe. Her pain was the -breakin' of the shell that enclosed her understanding, like it says. -I figured she was all right then because she yelled but I brought her -along that way. Then Guy took care of her until we got the synod. Oh," -she remembered, "and her tongue staggered a little without purpose -while he was putting it on, didn't it, Guy?" The bearded man nodded, -grinning, and lifted up the girl's foot. Incredulously, Chandler saw -that it was bound tight with a three-foot length of barbed wire, wound -and twisted like a tourniquet, the blood black and congealed around it. -He lifted his shocked eyes to meet the girl's. She only looked at him, -with pity and understanding. - -Guy patted the foot and let it go. "I didn't have any more C-clamps, -people of Orphalese," he apologized, "but it looks all right at that. -Well, let's see. We got to make up our minds about these two, I -guess--no, wait!" He held up his hand as a murmur began. "First thing -is, we ought to read a verse or two." - -He opened a purple-bound volume at random, stared at a page for a -moment, moving his lips, and then read: - -"Some of you say, 'It is the north wind who has woven the clothes we -wear.' - -"And I say, Ay, it was the north wind, but shame was his loom, and the -softening of the sinews was his thread. - -"And when his work was done he laughed in the forest." - -Gently he closed the book, looking thoughtfully at the wall at the back -of the room. He scratched his head. "Well, people of Orphalese," he -said slowly "they're laughing in the forest all right, I guarantee, but -we've got one here that may be honest in the flesh, probably is, though -she was a thief in the spirit. Right? Well, do we take her in or reject -her, O people of Orphalese?" - -The audience muttered to itself and then began to call out: "Accept! -Oh, bring in the brand! Accept and drive out the imp!" - -"Fine," said the teen-ager, rubbing her hands and looking at the -bearded man. "Guy, let her go." He began to release her from the chair. -"You, girl stranger, what's your name?" - -The girl said faintly, "Ellen Braisted." - -"'_Meggie_, my name is Ellen Braisted,'" corrected the teen-ager. -"Always say the name of the person you're talkin' to in Orph'lese, that -way we know it's you talkin', not a flame spirit or wanderer. Okay, go -sit down." Ellen limped wordlessly down into the audience. "Oh, and -people of Orph'lese," said Meggie, "the car's still there if we need it -for anything. It didn't burn. Guy, you go on with this other fellow." - -Guy stroked his beard and assessed Chandler, looking him over -carefully. "Okay," he said. "People of Orphalese, the _third_ order of -business is to _welcome_ or reject this _other_ brand saved from the -imps, as may be your _pleasure_." Chandler sat up straighter now that -all of them were looking at him again; but it wasn't quite his turn, at -that, because there was an interruption. Guy never finished. From the -valley, far below, there was a sudden mighty thunder, rolling among the -mountains. The windows blew in with a crystalline crash. - - * * * * * - -The room erupted into confusion, the audience leaping from their seats, -running to the broad windows, Guy and the teen-age girl seizing rifles, -everyone in motion at once. - -Chandler straightened, then sat down again. The red-headed man guarding -him was looking away. It would be quite possible to grab his gun, run, -get away from these maniacs. Yet he had nowhere to go. They might be -crazy, but they seemed to have organization. - -They seemed, in fact, to have worked out, on whatever crazed foundation -of philosophy, some practical methods for coping with possession. He -decided to stay, wait and see. - -And at once he found himself leaping for the gun. - -No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He -found his _body_ doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was -the helpless compulsion he had felt before, that had nearly cost him -his life; his body active and urgent and his mind completely cut off -from it. He felt his own muscles move in ways he had not planned, -observed himself leap forward, felt his own fist strike at the back of -the red-headed man's ear. The man went spinning, the gun went flying, -Chandler's body leaped after it, with Chandler a prisoner in his own -brain, watching, horrified and helpless. And he had the gun! - -He caught it in the hand that was his own hand, though someone else -was moving it; he raised it and half-turned. He was suddenly conscious -of a fusillade of gunfire from the roof, and a scattered echo of guns -all round the outside of the house. Part of him was surprised, another -alien part was not. He started to shoot the teen-aged girl in the back -of the head, silently shouting _No!_ - -His fingers never pulled the trigger. - -He caught a second's glimpse of someone just beside him, whirled and -saw the girl, Ellen Braisted, limping swiftly toward him with her -barbed-wire amulet loose and catching at her feet. In her hands was -an axe-handle club caught up from somewhere. She struck at Chandler's -head, with a face like an eagle's, impersonal and determined. The blow -caught him and dazed him, and from behind someone else struck him with -something else. He went down. - -He heard shouts and firing, but he was stunned. He felt himself dragged -and dropped. He saw a cloudy, misty girl's face hanging over him; it -receded and returned. Then a frightful blistering pain in his hand -startled him back into full consciousness. - -It was the girl, Ellen, still there, leaning over him and, oddly, -weeping. And the pain in his hand was the burning flame of a kitchen -match. Ellen was doing it, his wrist in one hand, a burning match held -to it with the other. - - -IV - -Chandler yelled hoarsely, jerking his hand away. - -She dropped the match and jumped up, stepping on the flame and watching -him. She had a butcher knife that had been caught between her elbow -and her body while she burned him. Now she put her hand on the knife, -waiting. "Does it hurt?" she demanded tautly. - -Chandler howled, with incredulity and rage: "God damn it, yes! What did -you expect?" - -"I expected it to hurt," she agreed. She watched him for a moment more -and then, for the first time since he had seen her, she smiled. It was -a small smile, but a beginning. A fusillade of shots from outside -wiped it away at once. "Sorry," she said. "I had to do that. Please -trust me." - -"_Why_ did you have to burn my hand?" - -"House rules," she said. "Keeps the flame-spirits out, you know. They -can't stand pain." She took her hand off the knife warily, "it still -hurts, doesn't it?" - -"It still does, yes," nodded Chandler bitterly, and she lost interest -in him and got up, looking about the room. Three of the Orphalese were -dead, or seemed to be from the casual poses in which they lay draped -across a chair on the floor. Some of the others might have been freshly -wounded, though it was hard to tell the casualties from the others in -view of the Orphalese custom of self-inflicted pain. There was still -firing going on outside and overhead, and a shooting-gallery smell of -burnt powder in the air. The girl, Ellen Braisted, limped back with -the butcher knife held carelessly in one hand. She was followed by the -teen-ager, who wore a smile of triumph--and, Chandler noticed for the -first time, a sort of tourniquet of barbed-wire on her left forearm, -the flesh puffy red around it "Whopped 'em," she said with glee, and -pointed a .22 rifle at Chandler. - -Ellen Braisted said, "Oh, he--_Meggie_, I mean, he's all right." She -pointed at his burned palm. Meg approached him with competent care, -the rifle resting on her good right forearm and aimed at him as she -examined his burn. She pursed her lips and looked at his face. "All -right, Ellen, I guess he's clean. But you want to burn 'em deeper'n -that. Never pays to go easy, just means we'll have to do something else -to 'im tomorrow." - -"The hell you will," thought Chandler, and all but said it; but reason -stopped him. In Rome he would have to do Roman deeds. Besides, maybe -their ideas worked. Besides, he had until tomorrow to make up his mind -about what he wanted to do. - -"Ellen, show him around," ordered the teen-ager. "I got no time myself. -Shoosh! Almost got us that time, Ellen. Got to be more careful, cause -the white-handed aren't clean, you know." She strutted away, the rifle -at trail. She seemed to be enjoying herself very much. - - * * * * * - -The name of the girl in the barbed-wire bracelet was Ellen Braisted. -She came from Lehigh County, Pennsylvania, and Chandler's first wonder -was what she was doing nearly three thousand miles from home. - -Nobody liked to travel much these days. One place was as bad as -another, except that in the place where you were known you could -perhaps count on friends and as a stranger you were probable fair game -anywhere else. Of course, there was one likely reason for travel. - -She didn't like to talk about it, that was clear, but that was the -reason. She had been possessed. When the teen-ager trapped her car the -day before she had been the tool of another's will. She had had a dozen -sub-machine guns in the trunk and she had meant to deliver them to a -party of hunters in a valley just south of McGuire's Mountain. Chandler -said, with some effort, "I must have been----" - -"_Ellen_, I must have been," she corrected. - -"Ellen, I must have been possessed too, just now. When I grabbed the -gun." - -"Of course. First time?" - -He shook his head. For some reason the brand on his forehead began to -throb. - -"Well, then you know. Look out here, now." - -They were at the great pier windows that looked out over the valley. -Down below was the river, an arc of the railroad tracks, the wooded -mountainside he had scaled. "Over there, Chandler." She was pointing to -the railroad bridge. - -Wispy gray smoke drifted off southward toward the stream. The freight -train Chandler had ridden on had been stopped, all that time, in the -middle of the bridge. The explosion that blew out their windows had -occurred when another train plowed into it--evidently at high speed. It -seemed that one of the trains had carried some sort of chemicals. The -bridge was a twisted mess. - -"A diversion, Chandler," said Ellen Braisted. "They wanted us looking -that way. Then they attacked from up the mountain." - -"Who?" - -Ellen looked surprised. "The men that crashed the trains ... if they -_are_ men. The ones who possessed me--and you--and the hunters. They -don't like these Orphalese, I think. Maybe they're a little afraid of -them. I think the Orphalese have a pretty good idea of how to fight -them." - -Chandler felt a sudden flash of sensation along his nerves. For a -moment he thought he had been possessed again, and then he knew it for -what it was. It was hope. "Ellen, I never thought of fighting them. I -thought that was given up two years ago." - -"So maybe you agree with me? Maybe you think it's worth while sticking -with the Orphalese?" - -Chandler allowed himself the contemplation of what hope meant. To find -someone in this world who had a _plan_! Whatever the plan was. Even if -it was a bad plan. He didn't think specifically of himself, or the -brand on his forehead or the memory of the body of his wife. What he -thought of was the prospect of thwarting--not even defeating, merely -hampering or annoying was enough!--the imps, the "flame creatures," -the pythons, devils, incubi or demons who had destroyed a world he had -thought very fair. - -"If they'll have me," he said, "I'll stick with them, all right! Where -do I go to join?" - - * * * * * - -It was not hard to join at all. Meg chattily informed him that he was -already practically a member. "Chandler, we got to watch everybody -strange, you know. See why, don't you? Might have a flame spirit in -'em, no fault of theirs, but look how they could mess us up. But now we -know you don't, so--What do you mean, how do we know? Cause you _did_ -have one when you busted loose in there. Can't have two at a time, you -know. Think we couldn't tell the difference?" - -The interrupted meeting was resumed after the place had been tidied -up and the dead buried. There had been four of the hunters, and even -without their sub-machine guns they had succeeded in killing eight -Orphalese. But it was not all loss to the Orphalese, because two of the -hunters were still alive, though wounded, and under the rules of this -chessboard the captured enemy became a friend. - -Guy had suffered a broken jaw in the scuffle and another man presided, -a fat youth who favored a bandaged leg. He limped to his feet, -grimacing and patting his leg. "O Orphalese and brothers," he said, "we -have lost friends, but we have won a test. Praise the Prophet, we will -be spared to win again, and to drive the imps of fire out of our world. -Meggie, you going to tie these folks up?" The girl proudly ordered -one of the hunters into the spotlighted dentist's chair, another -into a wing chair that was hastily moved onto the platform. The men -were bleeding and hurt, but they had clearly been abandoned by their -possessors. They watched with puzzlement and fear. - -"Walter, they're okay now," Meg reported as others finished tying up -the hunters. "Oh, wait a minute." She advanced on Chandler. "Chandler, -I'm sorry. You sit down there, hear?" - -Chandler suffered himself to be bound to a camp chair on the platform -and Walter took a drink of wine and opened the ornate book that was -before him on the rostrum. - -"Meg, thanks. Guy, I hope I do this as good as you do. Let me read you -a little. Let's see." He put on his steel-rimmed glasses and read: - -"Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man, but a -shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own -awakening." - -He closed the book, looked with satisfaction at Guy and said: "Do you -understand that, new friends? They are the words of the Prophet, who -men call Kahlil Gibran. For the benefit of the new folks I ought to say -that he died this fleshly life quite a good number of years ago, but -his vision was unclouded. Like we say, we are the sinews that batter -the flame spirits but he is our soul." There was an antiphonal murmur -from the audience and Walter flipped the pages again rapidly, obviously -looking for a familiar passage. "People of Orphalese, here we are now. -This's what he says. What is this that has torn our world apart? The -Prophet says: 'It is life in quest of life, in bodies that fear the -grave.' Now, honestly, nothing could be clearer than that, people of -Orphalese and friends! We got something taking possession of us, see? -What is it? Well, he says here, people of Orphalese and friends, 'It -is a flame spirit in you ever gathering more of itself.' Now, what the -heck! Nobody can blame _us_ for what a flame spirit _in_ us does! So -the first thing we got to learn, friends--and people of Orphalese--is, -we aren't to blame. And the second thing is, we _are_ to blame!" - -He turned and grinned at Chandler kindly, while the chorus of -responses came from the room, "Like here," he said, "people of -Orphalese, the Prophet says _everybody_ is guilty. 'The murdered is -not unaccountable for his own murder, and the robbed is not blameless -in being robbed. The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the -wicked, and the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.' -You see what he's getting at? We all got to take the responsibility -for _everything_--and that means we got to suffer--but we don't have -to worry about any special things we did when some flame spirit or -wanderer, like, took us over. - -"But we do have to suffer, people of Orphalese." His expression became -grim. "Our beloved founder, Guy, who's sitting there doing a little -extra suffering now, was favored enough to understand these things in -the very beginning, when he himself was seized by these imps. And it is -all in this book! Like it says, 'Your pain is self-chosen. It is the -bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.' -Ponder on that, people of Orphalese--and friends. No, I mean really -ponder," he explained, glancing at the bound "friends" on the platform. -"We always do that for a minute. Ada there will play us some music so -we can ponder." - - * * * * * - -Chandler shifted uncomfortably, while an old woman crippled by -arthritis began fumbling a tune out of an electric organ. The burn -Ellen Braisted had given him was beginning to hurt badly. If only these -people were not such obvious _nuts_, he thought, he would feel a lot -better about casting his lot in with them. But maybe it took lunatics -to do the job. Sane people hadn't accomplished much. - -And anyway he had very little choice.... - -"Ada, that's enough," ordered the fat youth. "Meg, come on up here. -People of Orphalese, now you can listen again while Meg explains to the -new folks how all this got started, seeing Guy's in no condition to do -it." - -The teen-ager marched up to the platform and took the parade-rest -position learned in some high-school debating society--in the days when -there were debating societies and high schools. "Ladies and gentlemen, -well, let's start at the beginning. Guy tells this better'n I do, -of course, but I guess I remember it all pretty well too. I ought -to. I was in on it and all." She grimaced and said, "Well, anyway, -ladies and gentlemen--people of Orph'lese--the way Guy organized -this Orphalese self-protection society was, like Walter says, he was -possessed. The only difference between Guy and you and me was that he -knew what to do about it, because he read the book, you see. Not that -that helped him at first, when he was took over. He was really seized. -Yes, people of Orph'lese, he was taken and while his whole soul and -brain and body was under the influence of some foul wanderer fiend -from hell he did things that, ladies and gentlemen of Orph'lese, I -wouldn't want to tell you. He was a harp in the hand of the mighty, as -it says. Couldn't help it, not however much he tried. Only while he -was doing--the things--he happened to catch his hand in a gas flame -and, well, you can see it was pretty bad." With a deprecatory smile Guy -held up a twisted hand. "And, do you know, he was free of his imp right -then and there! Now, Guy is a scientist, people of Orph'lese, he worked -for the telephone company, and he not only had that training in the -company school but he had read the book, you see, and he put two and -two together. Oh, and he's my uncle, of course. I'm proud of him. I've -always loved him, and even when he--when he was not one with himself, -you know, when he was doing those terrible things to me, I knew it -wasn't Uncle Guy that was doing them, but something else. I didn't know -what, though. And when he told me he had figured out the Basic Rule, -I went along with him every bit. I knew Guy wasn't wrong, and what he -said was from Scripture. Imps fear pain! So we got to love it. That one -I know by heart, all right: 'Could you keep your heart from wonder at -the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous -than your joy.' That's what it says, right? So that's why we got to -hurt ourselves, people of Orph'lese--and new brothers--because the -wanderers don't like it when we hurt and they leave us alone. Simple's -that. - -"Well--" the girl's face stiffened momentarily--"I knew _I_ wasn't -going to be seized. So Guy and I got Else, that's the other girl he'd -been doing things to, and we knew she wasn't going to be taken either. -Not if the imps feared pain like Guy said, because," she said solemnly, -"I want to tell you Guy hurt us pretty bad. - -"And then we came out here, and found this place, and ever since then -we've been adding brothers and sisters. It's been slow, of course, -because not many people come this way any more, and we've had to kill -a lot. Yes, we have. Sometimes the possessed just can't be saved, but--" - -Abruptly her face changed. - -Suddenly alert, her face years older, she glanced around the room. Then -she relaxed.... - -And screamed. - - * * * * * - -Guy leaped up. Hoarsely, his voice almost inarticulate as he tried to -talk with his broken jaw, he cried, "Wha ... Wha's ... _matter_, Meg? - -"Uncle Guy!" she wailed. She plunged off the platform and flung herself -into his arms, crying hysterically. - -"_Wha?_" - -She sobbed, "I could feel it! They _took_ me. Guy, you promised me they -couldn't!" - -He shook his head, dazed, staring at her as though she were indeed -possessed--still possessed, and telling him some fearful great lie to -destroy his hopes. He seemed unable to comprehend what she had said. -One of the hunters bellowed in stark fear: "For God's sake, untie -us! Give us a chance, anyway!" Chandler yelled agreement. In one -split second everyone in the room had been transmuted by terror into -something less than human. No one seemed capable of any action. Slowly -the plump youth who had presided moved over to the hunter bound in -the dentist's chair and began to fumble blindly at the knots. Ellen -Braisted dropped her head into her hands and began to shake. - -The cruelty of the moment was that they had all tasted hope. Chandler -writhed wildly against his ropes, his mind racing out of control. The -world had become a hell for everyone, but a bearable hell until the -promise of a chance to end it gave them a full sight of what their -lives had been. Now that that was dashed they were far worse off than -before. - -Walter finished with the hunter and lethargically began to pick at -Chandler's bonds. His face was slack and unseeing. - -Then it, too, changed. - -The plump youth stood up sharply, glanced about, and walked off the -platform. - -Ellen Braisted raised her face from her hands and, her eyes streaming, -quietly stood up and followed. The old lady with the arthritis -about-faced and limped with them. Chandler stared, puzzled, and then -comprehended. - -They were marching toward the corner of the room where the rifles were -stacked. "Possessed!" Chandler bellowed, the words tasting of acid as -they ripped out of his throat. "Stop them! You--Guy--look!" He flailed -wildly at his loosened bonds, lunged, tottered and toppled, chair and -all, crashingly off the platform. - -The three possessed ones did not need to hurry. They had all the time -in the world. They were already reaching out for the rifles when -Chandler shouted. Economically they turned, raising the butts to -their shoulders, and began to fire at the Orphalese. It was a queerly -frightening sight to see the arthritic organist, with a face like a -relaxed executioner, take quick aim at Guy and, with a thirty-thirty -shell, blow his throat out. Three shots, and the nearest three of the -congregation were dead. Three more, and others went down, while the -remainder turned and tried to run. It was like a slaughter of vermin. -They never had a chance. - -When every Orphalese except themselves was down on the floor, dead, -wounded or, like Chandler, overlooked, the arthritic lady took careful -aim at Ellen Braisted and the plump youth and shot them neatly in the -temples. They didn't try to prevent her. With expressions that seemed -almost impatient they presented their profiles to her aim. - -Then the arthritic lady glanced leisurely about, fired into the -stomach of a wounded man who was trying to rise, reloaded her rifle -for insurance and began to search the bodies of the nearest dead. She -was looking for matches. When she found them, she tugged weakly at the -upholstery on a couch, swore and began methodically to rip and crumple -pages out of Kahlil Gibran. When she had a heap of loose papers piled -against the dais she pitched the remainder of the book out of the -window, knelt and ignited the crumpled heap. - -She stood watching the fire, her expression angry and impatient, -tapping her foot. - -The crumpled pages burned briskly. Before they died the wooden dais was -beginning to catch. Laboriously the old lady toted folding chairs to -pile on the blaze until it was roaring handsomely. - -She watched it for several minutes, until it was a great orange pillar -of fire sweeping to the ceiling, until the drapes on the wall behind -were burning and the platform was a holocaust, until the noise of -crackling flame and the beginning of plaster falling from the high -ceiling proved that there was no likelihood of the fire going out -and, indeed, no way to put it out without a complete fire department -arriving on the scene at once. - -The old lady's expression cleared. She nodded to herself. She then -put the muzzle of the rifle in her mouth and, with her thumb, pulled -the trigger that blew the top of her head off. The body fell into the -flames, but it was by then already dead. - - * * * * * - -Chandler had not been shot, but he was very near to roasting. Walter -had released one hand and, while the possessed woman's attention was -elsewhere, Chandler had worked on the other knots. - -When he saw her commit suicide he redoubled his efforts. It was -incredible to him that his life had been saved, and he knew that if he -escaped the flames he still had nothing to live for--that blasted brief -hope had broken his spirit--but his fingers had a will of their own. - -He lay there, struggling, while great black clouds of smoke, orange -painted from the flames, gathered under the high ceiling, while the -thunder of falling lumps of plaster sounded like a child heaving -volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica down a flight of stairs, while -the heat and shortage of oxygen made him breathe in violent spasms. -Then he cried out sharply and stumbled to his feet. It was only a -matter of moments before he was out of the house, but it was very -nearly not time enough. - -Behind him was a great, sustained crash. He thought it must have been -the furniture on the upper floor toppling through the burned-out -ceiling of the hall. He turned and looked. - -It was dark, and now every window on the side of the house facing him -was lighted. It was as though some mad householder had decided to equip -his rooms only with orange lights, orange lights that flickered and -moved. For a second Chandler thought there were still living people in -the rooms--shapes moved and cavorted at the windows, as though they -were gathering up possessions or waving wildly for help. But it was -only the drapes, aflame, tossed about in the fierce heat. - -Chandler sighed and turned away. - -Pain was not a sure defense after all. Evidently it was only an -annoyance to the possessors ... whoever, or whatever, they might be. -As soon as they had become suspicious they had exerted themselves and -destroyed the Orphalese. He listened and looked about, but no one else -moved. He had not expected anyone. He had been sure that he was the -only survivor. - -He began to walk down the hill toward the wrecked railway bridge, -turning only when a roar told him that the roof of the house had fallen -in. A tulip of flame a hundred feet tall rose above the standing walls, -and above that a shower of floating red-orange sparks, heat-borne, -drifting up and away and beginning to settle all over the mountainside. -Many were still red when they landed, a few still flaming. It was a -distinct risk that the trees would begin to burn, and then he would be -in fresh danger. So great was his stupor that he did not even hurry. - -By a plowed field he flung himself to the ground. - -He could go no farther because he had nowhere to go. He had had two -homes and he had been driven from both of them. He had had hope twice, -and twice he had been damned. - -He lay on his back, with the burning house mumbling and crackling in -the distance, and stared up at the orange-lit tops of the trees and, -past them, the stars. Over his left shoulder Deneb chased Vega across -the sky; toward his feet something moved between the bright rosy dot -that was Antares and another, the same brightness and hue--Mars? He -spent several moments wondering if Mars were in that part of the -heavens. Then he looked again for the tiny moving point that had -crossed the claws of the Scorpion, but it was gone. A satellite, maybe. -Although there were few of them left that the naked eye could hope to -see. And there would never be any more, because the sort of accumulated -wealth of nations that threw rockets into the sky was forever spent. - -It was probably an airplane, he thought drowsily, and drifted off to -sleep without realizing how remote even that possibility had become.... -He woke up to find that he was getting to his feet. - -Once again an interloper tenanted his brain. He tried to interfere, for -he could not help it, although he knew how useless it was, but his own -neck muscles turned his head from side to side, his own eyes looked -this way and that, his own hand reached down for a dead branch that lay -on the ground, then hesitated and withdrew. His body stood motionless -for a second, the lips moving, the larynx mumbling to itself. He could -almost hear words. Chandler felt like a fly in amber, prisoned in his -own brainbox. He was not surprised when his legs moved to carry him -back toward the destroyed building, now a fakir's bed of white-hot -coals with brush fires spattered around it. He thought he knew why. It -seemed very likely that what possessor had him was a sort of clean-up -squad, tidying up the loose ends of the slaughter; he expected that his -body's errand was to destroy itself, and thus him, as all the Orphalese -had been destroyed. - - -V - -Chandler's body carried him rapidly toward the house. Now and then it -paused and glanced about. It seemed to be weighing some shortcut in -its errand; but always it resumed its climb. - -Chandler could sympathize with it, in a way. He still felt every -pain from burn, brand and wound; as they neared the embers of the -building the heat it threw off intensified them all. He could not be a -comfortable body to inhabit for long. He was almost sympathetic because -his tenant could not find a convenient weapon with which to fulfill his -purpose. - -When it seemed they could get no closer without the skin of his face -crackling and bursting into flame his body halted. - -Chandler could feel his muscles gathering for what would be the final -leap into the auto-da-fe. His feet took a short step--and slipped. -His body stumbled and recovered itself; his mouth swore thickly in a -language he did not know. - -Then his body hesitated, glanced at the ground, paused again and bent -down. It had tripped on a book. It picked the book up, and Chandler saw -that it was the Orphalese copy of Gibran's _The Prophet_. - -Chandler's body stood poised for a moment, in an attitude of thought. -Then it sat down, in the play of heat from the coals. It was a moment -before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked; -he got up, turned and began to walk away. - -He had traveled no more than a few yards when he stumbled slightly, as -though shifting gears, and felt the tenant in his mind again. - -He continued to walk away from the building, down toward the road. Once -his arm raised the book he still carried and his eyes glanced down, as -if for reassurance that it was the same book. That was the only clue he -was given as to what had happened and it was not much. It was as though -his occupying power, whatever it was, had gone--somewhere--to think -things over, perhaps to ask a question of an unimaginable companion, -and then returned with an altered purpose. As time passed, Chandler -began to receive additional clues, but he was in little shape to fit -them together, for his body was near exhaustion. - -He walked to the road, and waited, rigid, until a panel truck came -bouncing along. He hailed it, his arms making a sign he did not -understand, and when it stopped he addressed the driver in a language -he did not speak. "_Shto_," said the driver, a somber-faced Mexican in -dungarees. "_Ja nie jestem Ruska. Czego pragniesh?_" - -"_Czy ty jedziesz to_ Los Angeles?" asked Chandler's mouth. - -"_Nyet. Acapulco._" - -Chandler's voice argued, "_Wes na_ Los Angeles." - -"_Nyet._" The voices droned on. Chandler lost interest in the argument -and was only relieved when it seemed somehow to be settled and he was -herded into the back of the truck. The somber Mexican locked him in; he -felt the truck begin to move; his tenant left him, and he was at once -asleep. - -He woke long enough to find himself standing in the mist of early dawn -at a crossroads. In a few minutes another car came by, and his voice -talked earnestly with the driver for a moment. Chandler got in, was -released, slept again and woke to find himself free and abandoned, -sprawled across the back seat of the car, which was parked in front of -a building marked Los Angeles International Airport. - - * * * * * - -Chandler got out of the car and strolled around, stretching. He -realized he was very hungry. - -No one was in sight. The field showed clear signs of having been -through the same sort of destruction that had visited every major -communications facility in the world. Part of the building before -him was smashed flat and showed signs of having been burned. He saw -projecting aluminum members, twisted and scorched but still visibly -aircraft parts. Apparently a transport had crashed into the building. -Burned-out cars littered the parking lot and what had once been a green -lawn. They seemed to have been bulldozed out of the way, but not an -inch farther than was necessary to clear the approach roads. - -To his right, as he stared out onto the field, was a strange-looking -construction on three legs, several stories high. It did not seem -to serve any useful purpose. Perhaps it had been a sort of luxury -restaurant at one time, like the Space Needle from the old Seattle -Fair, but now it too was burned out and glassless in its windows. The -field itself was swept bare except for two or three parked planes in -the bays, but he could see wrecked transports lining the approach -strips. All in all, Los Angeles International Airport appeared to be -serviceable, but only just. - -He wondered where all the people were. - -Distant truck noises answered part of the question. An Army six by six -came bumping across a bridge that led from the takeoff strips to this -parking area of the airport. Five men got out next to one of the ships. -They glanced at him but did not speak as they began loading crates of -some sort of goods from the truck into the aircraft, a four-engine, -swept-wing jet of what looked to Chandler like an obsolete model. -Perhaps it was one of the early Boeings. There hadn't been many of -those in use at the time the troubles began, too big and fast for short -hops, too slow to compete over long distances with the rockets. But, of -course, with all the destruction, and with no new aircraft being built -anywhere in the world any more, no doubt they were as good as could be -found. - -The truckmen did not seem to be possessed; they worked with the -normal amount of grunting and swearing, pausing to wipe sweat away -or to scratch an itch. They showed neither the intense malevolent -concentration nor the wide-eyed idiot curiosity of those whose bodies -were no longer their own. Chandler settled the woolen cap over the -brand on his forehead, to avoid unpleasantness, and drifted over toward -them. - -They stopped work and regarded him. One of them said something to -another, who nodded and walked toward Chandler. "What do you want?" he -demanded warily. - -"I don't know. I was going to ask you the same question, I guess." - -The man scowled. "Didn't your exec tell you what to do?" - -"My what?" - -The man paused, scratched and shook his head. "Well, stay away from us. -This is an important shipment, see? I guess you're all right or you -couldn't've got past the guards, but I don't want you messing us up. -Got enough trouble already. I don't know why," he said in the tones -of an old grievance, "we can't get the execs to let us _know_ when -they're going to bring somebody in. It wouldn't hurt them! Now here we -got to load and fuel this ship and, for all I know, you've got half a -ton of junk around somewhere that you're going to load onto it. How do -I know how much fuel it'll take? No weather, naturally. So if there's -headwinds it'll take full tanks, but if there's extra cargo I--" - -"The only cargo I brought with me that I can think of is a book," said -Chandler. "Weighs maybe a pound. You think I'm supposed to get on that -plane?" - -The man grunted non-committally. - -"All right, suit yourself. Listen, is there any place I can get -something to eat?" - -The man considered. "Well, I guess we can spare you a sandwich. But you -wait here. I'll bring it to you." - -He went back to the truck. A moment later one of the others brought -Chandler two cold hamburgers wrapped in waxed paper, but would answer -no questions. - - * * * * * - -Chandler ate every crumb, sought and found a washroom in the wrecked -building, came out again and sat in the sun, watching the loading crew. -He had become quite a fatalist. It did not seem that it was intended he -should die immediately, so he might as well live. - -There were large gaps in his understanding, but it seemed clear to -Chandler that these men, though not possessed, were in some way working -for the possessors. It was a distasteful concept; but on second thought -it had reassuring elements. It was evidence that whatever the "execs" -were, they were very possibly human beings--or, if not precisely human, -at least shared the human trait of working by some sort of organized -effort toward some sort of a goal. It was the first non-random -phenomenon he had seen in connection with the possessors, barring the -short-term tactical matters of mass slaughter and destruction. It made -him feel--what he tried at once to suppress, for he feared another -destroying frustration--a touch of hope. - -The men finished their work but did not leave. Nor did they approach -Chandler, but sat in the shade of their truck, waiting for something. -He drowsed and was awakened by a distant sputter of a single-engined -Aerocoupe that hopped across the building behind him, turned sharply -and came down with a brisk little run in the parking bay itself. - -From one side the pilot climbed down and from the other two men lifted, -with great care, a wooden crate, small but apparently heavy. They -stowed it in the jet while the pilot stood watching; then the pilot and -one of the other men got into the crew compartment. Chandler could not -be sure, but he had the impression that the truckman who entered the -plane was no longer his own master. His movements seemed more sure and -confident, but above all it was the mute, angry eyes with which his -fellows regarded him that gave Chandler grounds for suspicion. He had -no time to worry about that; for in the same breath he felt himself -occupied once more. - -He did not rise. His own voice said to him, "You. Votever you name, you -fellow vit de book! You go get de book verever you pud it and get on -dat ship dere, you see?" His eyes turned toward the waiting aircraft. -"And don't forget de book!" - -He was released. "I won't," he said automatically, and then realized -that there was no longer anyone there to hear his answer. - -When he retrieved the Gibran volume from the car and approached the -plane the loading crew said nothing. Evidently they knew what he was -doing--either because they too had been given instructions, or because -they were used to such things. He paused at the wheeled stairs. -"Listen," he said, "can you at least tell me where I'm going?" - -The four remaining men looked at him silently, with the same angry, -worried expression he had seen on their faces before. They did not -answer, but after a moment one of them raised his arm and pointed. - -West. Out toward the Pacific. Out toward some ten million square miles -of nearly empty sea. - - * * * * * - -Long before they reached their destination Chandler had reasoned what -it must be. He was correct: it was the islands of Hawaii. - -Chandler knew that the pilot and his coopted partner were up forward, -in the crew compartment, but the door was locked and he never saw them -again. Apart from them he was the only living person on the plane. - -The plane was lightly loaded with cargo of unidentifiable sorts. In -the rear section, where once tourist-class passengers had eaten their -complimentary tray meals and planned their vacations, the seats had -been removed and a thin scatter of crates and boxes were strapped to -the floor. In the luxury of the forward section Chandler sat, stared at -the water and drowsed. He seemed to be always sleepy. Perhaps it was -the consequence of his exertions; more likely it was a psychological -phenomenon. He was beyond worry. He had reached that point in emotional -fatigue when the sudden rattle of cannonfire or the enemy's banzai -charge can no longer flood the blood with adrenalin. The glands are -dry. The emotions have been triggered too often. Battle fatigue takes -men in many different ways, but in Chandler it was only apathy. He not -only could not worry, he could not even rouse himself to feel hunger, -although the pricking of habit made him get up and search the flight -kitchen, unsuccessfully, for food. - -He had no idea how much time had passed when the hiss of the jets -changed key. - -The horizon dipped below the wingtip and straightened again, and he -beheld land. He never saw the airfield, only water, then beach, then -water again, then a few buildings. Then there was a roar of jets, with -their clamshells deflecting their thrust forward to brake their speed, -and then the wheels were on the ground. As the plane stopped he felt -himself once more possessed. It was no longer terrifying--though -Chandler was sure he was doomed. - -Without knowing where he was going or why he picked up the ripped book, -opened the cabin exit and stepped down onto the rolling steps that had -immediately been brought into place. He was conscious of a horde of -men swarming around the plane, stripping it of its cargo, and wondered -briefly at the rush; but he could not stop to watch them, his legs -carried him swiftly across a paved strip to where a police car was -cruising. - -Chandler cringed inside, instinctively, but his body did not falter as -it stepped into the path of the car and raised its hand. - -The police car jammed on its brakes. The policeman at the wheel, -Chandler thought inside himself, looked startled, but he also looked -resigned. "To de South Gate, qvickly," said Chandler's lips, and he -felt his legs carry him around to the door on the other side. - -There was another policeman on the seat next to the driver. He leaped -like a hare to get the door open and get out before Chandler's body got -there. He made it with nothing to spare. "Jack, you go on, I'll tell -Headquarters," he said hurriedly. The driver nodded without speaking. -His lips were white. He reached over Chandler to close the door and -made a sharp U-turn. - -As soon as the car was moving Chandler felt himself able to move his -lips again. - -"I," he said. "I don't know--" - -"Friend," said the policeman, "kindly keep your mouth shut. 'South -Gate,' the exec said, and South Gate is where I'm going." - -Chandler shrugged and looked out the window ... just in time to see the -jet that had brought him to the islands once more lumbering into life. -It crept, wobbling its wingtips, over the ground, picked up speed, -roared across taxi strips and over rough ground and at last piled up -against an ungainly looking foreign airplane, a Russian jet by its -markings, in a thunderous crash and ball of flame as its fuel exploded. -No one got out. - -It seemed that traffic to Hawaii was all one way. - - -VI - -They roared through downtown Honolulu with the siren blaring and cars -scattering out of the way. At seventy miles an hour they raced down a -road by the sea. Chandler caught a glimpse of a sign that said "Hilo," -but where or what "Hilo" might be he had no idea. Soon there were fewer -cars; then there were none but their own. - -The road was a surburban highway lined with housing development, -shopping centers, palm groves and the occasional center of a small -municipality, scattering helterskelter together. There was a road like -this extending in every direction from every city in the United States, -Chandler thought; but this one was somewhat altered. Something had been -there before them. About a mile outside Honolulu's outer fringe, life -was cut off as with a knife. There were no people on foot, and the only -cars were rusted wrecks lining the roads. The lawns were ragged stands -of weeds in front of the ranch-type homes. - -It was evidently not allowed to live here. - -Chandler craned his neck. His curiosity was becoming almost unbearable. -He opened his mouth, but, "I said, 'Shut up.'" rumbled the cop without -looking at him. There was a note in the policeman's voice that -impressed Chandler. He did not quite know what it was, but it made him -obey. They drove for another fifteen minutes in silence, then drew up -before a barricade across the road. - -Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping -rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back -toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler. - -Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a -reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet -there, except for a soft scratchy sound of footsteps on gravel. As -Chandler turned to face the man who was coming toward him, he realized -he had learned one fact from the policeman after all. The cop was -scared clear through. - -Chandler said, "Hello," to the man who was approaching. - -He too wore a uniform, but not that of the Honolulu city police. It -was like U.S. Army suntans, but without insignia. Behind him were -half a dozen others in the same dress, smoking, chatting, leaning -against whatever was handy. The barricades themselves were impressively -thorough. Barbed wire ran down the beach and out into the ocean; on the -other side of the road, barbed wire ran clear out of sight along the -middle of a side road. The gate itself was bracketed with machine-gun -emplacements. - -The guard waited until he was close to Chandler before speaking. "What -do you want?" he asked without greeting. Chandler shrugged. "All right, -just wait here," said the guard, and began to walk away again. - -"Wait a minute! What am I waiting for?" The guard shook his head -without stopping or turning. He did not seem very interested, and he -certainly was not helpful. - -Chandler put down the copy of _The Prophet_ which he had carried so -far and sat on the ground, but again he had no long time to wait. One -of the guards came toward him, with the purposeful movements Chandler -had learned to recognize. Without speaking the guard dug into a pocket. -Chandler jumped up instinctively, but it was only a set of car keys. - -As Chandler took them the look in the guard's eyes showed the quick -release of tension that meant he was free again; and in that same -moment Chandler's own body was occupied once more. - -He reached down and picked up the book. Quickly, but a little clumsily, -his fingers selected a key, and his legs carried him toward a little -French car parked just the other side of the barrier. - - * * * * * - -Chandler was learning at last the skills of allowing his body to have -its own way. He couldn't help it in any event, so he was consciously -disciplining himself to withdraw his attention from his muscles and -senses. It involved queerly vertiginous problems. A hundred times a -minute there was some unexpected body sway or movement of the hand, -and his lagging, imprisoned mind would wrench at its unresponsive -nerves to put out the elbow that would brace him or to catch itself -with a step. He had learned to ignore these things. The mind that -inhabited his body had ways not his own of maintaining balance and -reaching an objective, but they were equally sure. - -He watched his own hands shifting the gears of the car. It was a make -he had never driven, with a clutchless drive he did not understand, but -the mind in his brain evidently understood it well enough. They picked -up speed in great, gasoline-wasting surges. - -Chandler began to form a picture of that mind. It belonged to an older -man, from the hesitancy of its walk, and a testy one, from the heedless -crash of the gears as it shifted. It drove with careless slapdash -speed. Chandler's mind yelled and flinched in his brain as they rounded -blind curves, where any casual other motorist would have been a -catastrophe; but the hand on the wheel and the foot on the accelerator -did not hesitate. - -Beyond the South Gate the island of Oahu became abruptly wild. - -There were beautiful homes, but there were also great, gap-toothed -spaces where homes had once been and were no longer. It seemed that -some monstrous Zoning Commissar had stalked through the island with -an eraser, rubbing out the small homes, the cheap ones, the old ones; -rubbing out the stores, rubbing out the factories. This whole section -of the island had been turned into an exclusive residential park. - -It was not uninhabited. Chandler thought he glimpsed a few people, -though since the direction of his eyes was not his to control it was -hard to be sure. And then the Renault turned into a lane, paved but -narrow. Hardwood trees with some sort of blossoms, Chandler could not -tell what, overhung it on both sides. - -It meandered for a mile or so, turned and opened into a great vacant -parking lot. The Renault stopped with a squeal of brakes in front of a -door that was flanked by bronze plaques: _TWA Flight Message Center_. - -Chandler caught sight of a skeletal towering form overhead, like -a radio transmitter antenna, as his body marched him inside, up a -motionless escalator, along a hall and into a room. - -His muscles relaxed. - -He glanced around and, from a huge couch beside a desk, a huge soft -body stirred and, gasping, sat up. It was a very fat old man, almost -bald, wearing a coronet of silvery spikes. - -He looked at Chandler without much interest. "Vot's your name?" he -wheezed. He had a heavy, ineradicable accent, like a Hapsburg or a -Russian diplomat. Chandler recognized it readily. He had heard it often -enough, from his own lips. - - * * * * * - -The man's name was Koitska, he said in his accented wheeze. If he had -another name he did not waste it on Chandler. He took as few words as -possible to order Chandler to be seated and to be still. - -Koitska squinted at the copy of Gibran's _The Prophet_. He did not -glance at Chandler, but Chandler felt himself propelled out of his -seat, to hand the book to Koitska, then returning. Koitska turned its -remaining pages with an expression of bored repugnance, like a man -picking off his arm. He seemed to be waiting for something. - -A door closed on the floor below, and in a moment a girl came into the -room. - -She was tall, dark and not quite young. Chandler, struck by her beauty, -was sure that he had seen her, somewhere, but could not place her face. -She wore a coronet like the fat man's, intertwined in a complicated -hairdo, and she got right down to business. "Chandler, is it? All -right, love, what we want to know is what this is all about." She -indicated the book. - -A relief that was like pain crossed Chandler's mind. So that was why he -was here! Whoever these people were, however they managed to rule men's -minds, they were not quite certain of their perfect power. To them the -sad, futile Orphalese represented a sort of annoyance--not important -enough to be a threat--but something which had proved inconvenient at -one time and therefore needed investigating. As Chandler was the only -survivor they had deemed it worth their godlike whiles to transport him -four thousand miles so that he might satisfy their curiosity. - -Chandler did not hesitate in telling them all about the people of -Orphalese. There was nothing worth concealing, he was quite sure. No -debts are owed to the dead; and the Orphalese had proved on their own -heads, at the last, that their ritual of pain was only an annoyance to -the possessors, not a tactic that could long be used against them. - -It took hardly five minutes to say everything that needed saying about -Guy, Meggie and the other doomed and suffering inhabitants of the old -house on the mountain. - -Koitska hardly spoke. The girl was his interrogator, and sometimes -translator as well, when his English was not sufficient to comprehend -a point. With patient detachment she kept the story moving until -Koitska with a bored shrug indicated he was through. - -Then she smiled at Chandler and said, "Thanks, love. Haven't I seen you -somewhere before?" - -"I don't know. I thought the same thing about you." - -"Oh, everybody's seen me. Lots of me. But--well, no matter. Good luck, -love. Be nice to Koitska and perhaps he'll do as much for you." And she -was gone. - -Koitska lay unmoving on his couch for a few moments, rubbing a fat nose -with a plump finger. "Hah," he said at last. Then, abruptly, "And now, -de qvestion is, vot to do vit you, eh? I do not t'ink you can cook, eh?" - - * * * * * - -With unexpected clarity Chandler realized he was on trial for his life. -"Cook? No, I'm afraid not. I mean, I can boil eggs," he said. "Nothing -fancy." - -"Hah," grumbled Koitska. "Vel. Ve need a couple, three doctors, but I -do not t'ink you vould do." - -Chandler shook his head. "I'm an electrical engineer," he said. "Or -was." - -"Vas?" - -"I haven't had much practice. There has not been a great deal of call -for engineers, the last year or two." - -"Hah." Koitska seemed to consider. "Vel," he said, "it could be ... -yes, it could be dat ve have a job for you. You go back downstairs -and--no, vait." The fat man closed his eyes and Chandler felt himself -seized and propelled down the stairs to what had once been a bay of a -built-in garage. Now it was fitted up with workbenches and the gear of -a radio ham's dreams. - -Chandler walked woodenly to one of the benches. His own voice spoke -to him. "Ve got here someplace--_da_, here is cirguit diagrams and de -specs for a sqvare-vave generator. You know vot dat is? Write down de -answer." Chandler, released with a pencil in his hand and a pad before -him, wrote _Yes_. "Okay. Den you build vun for me. I areddy got vun but -I vant another. You do dis in de city, not here. Go to Tripler, dey -tells you dere vere you can work, vere to get parts, all dat. Couple -days you come out here again, I see if I like how you build." - -Clutching the thick sheaf of diagrams, Chandler felt himself propelled -outside and back into the little car. The interview was over. - -He wondered if he would be able to find his way back to Honolulu, but -that problem was then postponed as he discovered he could not start the -car. His own hands had already done so, of course, but it had been so -quick and sure that he had not paid attention; now he found that the -ignition key was marked only in French, which he could not speak. After -trial and error he discovered the combination that would start the -engine and unlock the steering wheel, and then gingerly he toured the -perimeter of the lot until he found an exit road. - -It was close to midnight, he judged. Stars were shining overhead; there -was a rising moon. He then remembered, somewhat tardily, that he should -not be seeing stars. The lane he had come in on had been overhung on -both sides with trees. - -A few minutes later he realized he was quite lost. - -Chandler stopped the car, swore feelingly, got out and looked around. - -There was nothing much to see. The roads bore no markers that made -sense to him. He shrugged and rummaged through the glove compartment -on the chance of a map; there was none, but he did find what he had -almost forgotten, a half-empty pack of cigarettes. It had been--he -counted--nearly a week since he had smoked. He lit up. - - * * * * * - -It was a pleasant evening, too. He felt almost relaxed. He stood there, -wondering just what might be about to happen next--with curiosity more -than fear--and then he felt a light touch at his mind. - -It was nothing, really. Or nothing that he could quite identify. It was -though he had been nudged. It seemed that someone was about to usurp -his body again, but that did not develop. - -As he had about decided to forget it and get back in the car he saw -headlights approaching. - -A low, lean sports car slowed as it came near, stopping beside him, and -a girl leaned out, almost invisible in the darkness. "There you are, -love," she said cheerfully. "Thought I spotted someone. Lost?" - -She had a coronet, and Chandler recognized her. It was the girl who had -interrogated him. "I guess I am," he admitted. - -The girl leaned forward. "Come in, dear. Oh, that thing? Leave it here, -the silly little bug." She giggled as they drove away from the Renault. -"Koitska wouldn't like you wandering around. I guess he decided to give -you a job?" - -"How did you know?" - -She said softly, "Well, love, you're here, you know. Otherwise--never -mind. What are you supposed to be doing?" - -"Going to Tripler, whatever that is. In Honolulu, I guess. Then I have -to build some radio equipment." - -"Tripler's actually on the other side of the city. I'll take you to the -gate; then you tell them where you want to go. They'll take care of it." - -"I don't have any money for fare." - -She laughed. After a moment she said, "Koitska's not the worst. But I'd -mind my step if I were you, love. Do what he says, the best you can. -You never know. You might find yourself very fortunate...." - -"I already think that. I'm alive." - -"Why, love, that point of view will take you far." The sports car slid -smoothly to a stop at the barricade and, in the floodlights above the -machine-gun nests, she looked more closely at Chandler. "What's that on -your forehead, dear?" - -Somehow the woolen cap had been lost. "A brand," he said shortly. "'H' -for 'hoaxer.' I did something when one of you people had me, and they -thought I'd done it on my own." - -"Why--why, this is wonderful!" the girl said excitedly. "No wonder I -thought I'd seen you before. Don't you remember? I was in the forewoman -at your trial!" - - -VII - -A pink and silver bus let Chandler off at Fort Street in downtown -Honolulu and he walked a few blocks to the address he had been given. -The name of the place was Parts 'n Plenty. He found it easily enough. -It was a radio parts store; by the size of it, it had once been a big, -well-stocked one; but now the counters were almost bare. - -A thin-faced man with khaki-colored skin looked up and nodded. Chandler -nodded back. He fingered a bin of tuning knobs, hefted a coil of -two-strand antenna wire and said, "A fellow at Tripler told me to come -here to pick up equipment, but I'm damned if I know what I'm supposed -to do when I locate it. I don't have any money." - -The dark-skinned man got up and came over to him. "Figured you for a -mainlander. No sweat. Have you got a list?" - -"I can make one." - -"All right. Catalogues on the table behind you, if you want them." He -offered Chandler a cigarette and sat against the edge of the counter, -reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's -square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man -grinned. "Every couple months he sends somebody along. He doesn't -really need the generator, you know. He just wants to see how much you -know about building it, Mr.--?" - -"Chandler." - -"Glad to know you. I'm John Hsi. But don't go easy on the job just -because it's a waste of time, Chandler; it could be pretty important to -you." - -Chandler absorbed the information silently and handed over his list. -The man did not look at it. "Come back in about an hour," he said. - -"I won't have any money in an hour, either." - -"Oh, that's all right. I'll put it on Koitska's bill." - -Chandler said frankly, "Look, I don't know what's going on. Suppose I -came in and picked up a thousand dollars' worth of stuff, would you put -that on the bill, too?" - -"Certainly," said Hsi optimistically. "You thinking about stealing -them? What would you do with them?" - -"Well...." Chandler puffed on his cigarette. "Well, I could--" - -"No, you couldn't. Also, it wouldn't pay, believe me," Hsi said -seriously. "If there is one thing that doesn't pay, it is cheating on -the Exec." - -"Now, that's another good question," said Chandler. "Who is the Exec?" - -Hsi shook his head. "Sorry. I don't know you, Chandler." - -"You mean you're afraid even to answer a question?" - -"You're damned well told I am. Probably nobody would mind what I might -tell you ... but 'probably' isn't good enough." - -Exasperated, Chandler said, "How the devil am I supposed to know what -to do next? So I take all this junk back to my room at Tripler and -solder up the generator--then what?" - -"Then Koitska will get in touch with you," Hsi said, not unkindly. -"Play it as it comes to you, Chandler, that's the best advice I can -offer." He hesitated. "Koitska's not the worst of them," he said; and -then, daringly, "and maybe he's not the best, either. Just do whatever -he told you. Keep on doing it until he tells you to do something else. -That's all. I mean, that's all the advice I can give you. Whether it's -going to be enough to satisfy Koitska is something else again." - - * * * * * - -There is not much to do in a strange town when you have no money. -Chandler's room at what once had been Tripler General Hospital was -free; the bus was free; evidently all the radio parts he could want -were also free. But he did not have the price of a cup of coffee or a -haircut in the pockets of the suntan slacks the desk man at Tripler -had issued him. He wandered around the streets of Honolulu, waiting for -the hour to be up. - -At Tripler a doctor had also examined his scar and it was now concealed -under a neat white bandage; he had been fed; he had bathed; he had been -given new clothes. Tripler was a teeming metropolis in itself, a main -building some ten stories high, a scattering of outbuildings connected -to it by covered passages, with thousands of men and women busy about -it. Chandler had spoken to a good many of them in the hour after waking -up and before boarding the bus to Honolulu, and none of them had been -free with information either. - -Honolulu had not suffered greatly under the rule of the Exec. -Remembering the shattered stateside cities, Chandler thought that this -one had been spared nearly all the suffering of the rule of the world -by the Exec, whoever they were. Dawdling down King Street, in the -aromatic reek of the fish markets, Chandler could have thought himself -in any port city before the grisly events of that Christmas when the -planet went possessed. Crabs waved sluggishly at him from bins. Great -pink-scaled fish rested on nests of ice, waiting to be sold. Smells of -frying food came from half a dozen restaurants. It was only the people -who were different. There was a solid sprinkling of those who, like -himself, were dressed in insigneless former Army uniforms--obviously -conscripts on Exec errands--and a surprising minority who, from -overheard snatches of conversation, had come from countries other than -the U.S.A. Russian mostly, Chandler guessed; but Russian or U.S., -wearing suntans or aloha shirts, everyone he saw was marked by the -visible signs of strain. There was no laughter. - -Chandler saw a clock within the door of a restaurant; half an hour -still to kill. He turned and wandered up, away from the water, toward -the visible bulk of the hills; and in a moment he saw what made -Honolulu's collective face wear its careworn frown. - -It was an open square--perhaps it had once been a war memorial--and in -the center of it was a fenced-off paved area where people seemed to be -resting. It struck Chandler as curious that so many persons should have -decided to take a nap on what surely was an uncomfortable bed of flat -concrete; he approached and saw that they were not resting. Not only -his eyes but his ears conveyed the message--and his nose, too, for the -mild air was fetid with blood and rot. - -These were not sleeping men and women. Some were dead; some were -unconscious; all were maimed. The pavement was slimed with their blood. -None had the strength to scream, but several were moaning and even -some of the unconscious ones gasped like the breathing of a man in -diabetic coma. Passersby walked briskly around the metal fence, and if -their glances were curious it was at Chandler they looked, not at the -tortured wrecks before them. He understood that the sight of the dying -men and women was familiar--was painful--and thus was ignored; it was -himself who was the curiosity, for staring at them. He turned and -fled, trying not to vomit. - - * * * * * - -He was still shaken when he returned to Parts 'n Plenty. The hour -was up but Hsi shook his head. "Not yet. You can sit down over there -if you like." Chandler slumped into the indicated swivel chair and -stared blankly at the wall. This was far worse than anything he had -seen stateside. The random terror of murders and bombs was at least a -momentary thing, and when it was done it was done. This was sustained -torture. He buried his head in his hands and did not look up until he -heard the sound of a door opening. - -Hsi, his face somehow different, was manipulating a lever on the -outside of a door while a man inside, becoming visible as the door -opened, was doing the same from within. It looked as though the lock on -the door would not work unless both levers operated; and the man on the -inside, whom Chandler had not seen before, was dressed, oddly, only in -bathing trunks. His face wore the same expression as Hsi's. Chandler -guessed (with practice it was becoming easy!) that both were possessed. - -The man inside wheeled out two shopping carts loaded with electronic -equipment of varying kinds, wordlessly received some empty ones from -Hsi; and the door closed on him again. - -Hsi tugged the lever down, turned, blinked and said, "All right, -Chandler. Your stuff's here." - -Chandler approached. "What was that all about?" - -"Go to hell!" Hsi said with sudden violence. "I--Oh never mind. Sorry. -But I told you already, ask somebody else your questions, not me." He -gloomily began to pack the items on Chandler's list into a cardboard -carton. Then he glanced at Chandler and said, apologetically, "These -are tough times, buddy. I guess there's no harm in answering _some_ -questions. You want to know why most of my stock's locked behind an -armor-plate door? Well, you ought to be able to figure that out for -yourself, anyway. The Exec doesn't like to have people playing with -radios. Bert stays in the stockroom; I stay out here; twice a day the -bosses open the door and we fill whatever orders they've approved. A -little rough on Bert, of course. It's a ten-hour day in the stockroom -for him, and nothing to do. But it could be worse. Oh, that's for sure, -friend: It could be worse." - -"Why the bathing suit? Hot in there?" - -"Hot for Bert if they think he's smuggling stuff out," said Hsi. "You -been here long enough to see the Monument yet?" - -Chandler shook his head, then grimaced. "You mean up about three blocks -that way? Where the people--?" - -"That's right," said Hsi admiringly, "three blocks mauka from here, -where the people--Where the people are serving as a very good object -lesson to you and me. About a dozen there, right? Small for this time -of year, Chandler. Usually there are more. Notice anything special -about them?" - -"They were butchered! Some of them looked like their legs had been -burned right off. Their eyes gouged out, their faces--" Chandler -brought up sharply. It had been bad enough looking at those wretched, -writhing semi-cadavers; he did not want to talk about them. - -The parts man nodded seriously. "Sometimes there are more, and -sometimes they're worse hurt than that. Have you got any idea how they -get that way? They do it to themselves, that's how. My own brother was -out there for a week, last Statehood Day. He jumped feet first into a -concrete mixer, and it took him seven days to die after I put him on my -shoulder and carried him out there. I didn't like it, of course, but -I didn't exactly have any choice; I wasn't running my own body at the -time. Neither was he when he jumped. He was made to do it, because he -used to have Bert's job and he thought he'd take a little short-wave -set home. Like I said, you don't want to cheat on the Exec because it -doesn't pay." - -"But what the devil am I supposed to--" - -Hsi held up his hand. "Don't ask me how to keep out of that Monument -bunch, Chandler. _I_ don't know. Do what you're told and don't do -anything you aren't told to do; that is the whole of the law. Now do me -a favor and get out of here so I can pack up these other orders." He -turned his back on Chandler. - - -VIII - -By the morning of the fourth day on the island of Oahu, Chandler had -learned enough of the ropes to have signed a money-chit at the Tripler -currency office against Koitska's account. - -That was about all he had learned, except for a few practical matters -like where meals were served and the location of the fresh-water -swimming pool at the back of the grounds. He was killing time using the -pool when, in the middle of a jacknife from the ten-foot board, he felt -himself seized. He sprawled into the water with a hard splashing slap, -threshed about and, as he came to the surface, found himself giggling. - -"Sorry, dear," he apologized to himself, "but we don't carry our weight -in the same places, you know. Get that square-what'sit thingamajig, -like an angel, and meet me in front by the flagpole in twenty minutes." - -He recognized the voice, even if his own vocal chords had made it. It -was the girl who had driven him back from the interview with Koitska, -the one who had casually announced she had saved his life at his -hoaxing trial. Chandler swam to the side of the pool and toweled as he -trotted toward his quarters. She was from Koitska now, of course; which -meant that his "test" was about to be graded. - -Quickly though he dressed, she was there before him, standing beside a -low-slung sports car and chatting with one of the groundskeepers. An -armful of leis dangled beside her, and although she wore the coronet -which was evidence of her status the gardener did not seem to fear -her. "Come along, love," she called to Chandler. "Koitska wants your -thingummy. Chuck it in the trunk if it'll fit, and we'll head waikiki -wikiwiki. Don't I say that nicely? But I only fool the malihinis, like -you." - -She chattered away as the little car dug its rear wheels into the drive -and leaped around the green and out the gate. - -The wind howled by them, the sun was bright, the sky was piercingly -blue. Riding next to this beautiful girl, it was hard for Chandler to -remember that she was one of those who had destroyed his world. It was -a terrible thing to have so much hatred and to feel it so diluted. -Not even Koitska seemed a terrible enough enemy to accept such a load -of detestation; it was hate without an object, and it recoiled on the -hater, leaving him turgid and constrained. If he could not hate his -onetime friend Jack Souther for defiling and destroying his wife, it -was almost as hard to hate Souther's anonymous possessor. It could -even have been Koitska. It could even have been this girl by his -side. In the strange, cruel fantasies with which the Execs indulged -themselves it was likely enough that they would sometimes assume the -body, and the role, of the opposite sex. Why not? Strange, ruthless -morality; it was impossible to evaluate it by any human standards. - -It was also impossible to think of hatred with her beside him. They -soared around Honolulu on a broad expressway and paralleled the beach -toward Waikiki. "Look, dear. Diamond Head! Mustn't ignore it--very bad -form--like not going to see the night-blooming cereus at the Punahou -School. You haven't missed that, have you?" - -"I'm afraid I have--" - -"Rosalie. Call me Rosalie, dear." - -"I'm afraid I have, Rosalie." For some reason the name sounded familiar. - -"Shame, oh, shame! They say it was wonderful night before last. Looks -like cactus to me, but--" - -Chandler's mental processes had worked to a conclusion. "Rosalie -_Pan_!" he said. "Now I know!" - -"Know what? You mean--" she swerved around a motionless Buick, parked -arrogantly five feet from the curb--"you mean you didn't know who I -was? And to think I used to pay five thousand a year for publicity." - -Chandler said, smiling, and almost relaxed, "I'm sorry, but musical -comedies weren't my strong point. I did see you once, though, on -television. Then, let's see, wasn't there something about you -disappearing--" - -She nodded, glancing at him. "There sure was, dear. I almost froze to -death getting out to that airport. Of course, it was worth it, I found -out later. If I hadn't been took, as they say, I would've been dead, -because you remember what happened to New York about an hour later." - -"You must have had some friends," Chandler began, and let it trail off. -So did the girl. After a moment she began to talk about the scenery -again, pointing out the brick-red and purple bougainvillea, describing -how the shoreline had looked before they'd "cleaned it up." "Oh, -thousands and thousands of the _homeliest_ little houses. You'd have -hated it. So we have done at least a few good things, anyway," she said -complacently, and began gently to probe into his life story. But as -they stopped before the TWA message center, a few moments later, she -said, "Well, love, it's been fun. Go on in; Koitska's expecting you. -I'll see you later." And her eyes added gently: _I hope_. - - * * * * * - -Chandler got out of the car, turned ... and felt himself taken. His -voice said briskly, "_Zdrastvoi, Rosie. Gd'yeh Koitska?_" - -Unsurprised the girl pointed to the building. "_Kto govorit?_" - -Chandler's voice answered in English, with a faint Oxford accent: -"It is I, Rosie, Kalman. Where's Koitska's tinkertoy? Oh, all right, -thanks; I'll just pick it up and take it in. Hope it's all right. I -must say one wearies of breaking in these new fellows." - -Chandler's body ambled around to the trunk of the car, took out the -square-wave generator on its breadboard base and slouched into the -building. It called ahead in the same language and was answered -wheezily from above: Koitska. "_Zdrastvoi. Iditye suda ko mneh. Kto, -Kalman?_" - -"_Konyekhno!_" cried Chandler's voice and he was carried in and up to -where the fat man lounged in a leather-upholstered wheel-chair. There -was a conversation, long minutes of it, while the two men poked at -the generator. Chandler did not understand a word until he spoke to -himself: "You--what's your name." - -"Chandler," Koitska filled in. - -"You, Chandler. D'you know anything at all about submillimeter -microwaves? Tell Koitska." Briefly Chandler felt himself free--long -enough to nod; then he was possessed again, and Koitska repeated the -nod. "Good, then. Tell Koitska what experience you've had." - -Again free, Chandler said, "Not a great deal of actual experience. I -worked with a group at Caltech on spectroscopic measurements in the -million megacycle range. I didn't design any of the equipment, though I -helped put it together." He recited his degrees until Koitska raised a -languid hand. - -"_Shto_, I don't care. If ve gave you diagrams you could build?" - -"Certainly, if I had the equipment. I suppose I'd need--" - -But Koitska stopped him again. "I know vot you need," he said damply. -"Enough. Ve see." In a moment Chandler was taken again, and his voice -and Koitska's debated the matter for a while, until Koitska shrugged, -turned his head and seemed to go to sleep. - -Chandler marched himself out of the room and out into the driveway -before his voice said to him: "You've secured a position, then. Go back -to Tripler until we send for you. It'll be a few days, I expect." - -And Chandler was free again. - -He was also alone. The girl in the Porsche was gone. The door of the -TWA building had latched itself behind him. He stared around him, -swore, shrugged and circled the building to the parking lot at back, on -the chance that a car might be there for him to borrow. - -Luckily, there was. There were four, in fact, all with keys in them. He -selected a Ford, puzzled out the likeliest road back to Honolulu and -turned the key in the starter. - -It was fortunate, he thought, that there had been several cars; if -there had been only one he would not have dared to take it, for fear of -stranding Koitska or some other exec who might easily blot him out in -annoyance. He did not wish to join the wretches at the Monument. - -It was astonishing how readily fear had become a part of his life. - -The trouble with this position he had somehow secured--one of the -troubles--was that there was no union delegate to settle employee -grievances. Like no transportation. Like no clear idea of working -hours, or duties. Like no mention at all--of course--of wages. Chandler -had no idea what his rights were, if any at all, or of what the -penalties would be if he overstepped them. - -The maimed victims at the Monument supplied a clue, of course. He could -not really believe that that sort of punishment would be applied for -minor infractions. Death was so much less trouble. Even death was not -really likely, he thought, for a simple lapse. - -He _thought_. - -He could not be sure, of course. He could be sure of only one thing: -He was now a slave, completely a slave, a slave until the day he -died. Back on the mainland there was the statistical likelihood of -occasional slavery-by-possession, but there it was only the body that -was enslaved, and only for moments. Here, in the shadow of the execs, -it was all of him, forever, until death or a miracle turned him loose. - - * * * * * - -On the second day following he returned to his room at Tripler after -breakfast, and found a Honolulu city policeman sitting hollow-eyed on -the edge of his bed. The man stood up as Chandler came in. "So," he -grumbled, "you take so long! Here. Is diagrams, specs, parts lists, -all. You get everything three days from now, then we begin." - -The policeman, no longer Koitska, shook himself, glanced stolidly -at Chandler and walked out, leaving a thick manila envelope on the -pillow. On it was written, in a crabbed hand: _All secret! Do not show -diagrams!_ - -Chandler opened the envelope and spilled its contents on the bed. - -An hour later he realized that sixty minutes had passed in which he had -not been afraid. It was good to be working again, he thought, and then -that thought faded away again as he returned to studying the sheaves of -circuit diagrams and closely typed pages of specifications. It was not -only work, it was hard work, and absorbing. Chandler knew enough about -the very short wavelength radio spectrum to know that the device he was -supposed to build was no proficiency test; this was for real. The more -he puzzled over it the less he could understand of its purpose. There -was a transmitter and there was a receiver. Astonishingly, neither was -directional: that ruled out radar, for example. He rejected immediately -the thought that the radiation was for spectrum analysis, as in the -Caltech project--unfortunate, because that was the only application -with which he had first-hand familiarity; but impossible. The thing -was too complicated. Nor could it be a simple message transmitter--no, -perhaps it could, assuming there was a reason for using the -submillimeter bands instead of the conventional, far simpler short-wave -spectrum. Could it? The submillimeter waves were line-of-sight, of -course, but would ionosphere scatter make it possible for them to -cover great distances? He could not remember. Or was that irrelevant, -since perhaps they needed only to cover the distances between islands -in their own archipelago? But then, why all the power? And in any case, -what about this fantastic switching panel, hundreds of square feet of -it even though it was transistorized and subminiaturized and involving -at least a dozen sophisticated technical refinements he hadn't the -training quite to understand? AT&T could have handled every phone call -in the United States with less switching than this--in the days when -telephone systems spanned a nation instead of a fraction of a city. He -pushed the papers together in a pile and sat back, smoking a cigarette, -trying to remember what he could of the theory behind submillimeter -radiation. - -At half a million megacycles and up, the domain of quantum theory began -to be invaded. Rotating gas molecules, constricted to a few energy -states, responded directly to the radio waves. Chandler remembered -late-night bull sessions in Pasadena during which it had been pointed -out that the possibilities in the field were enormous--although only -possibilities, for there was no engineering way to reach them, and -no clear theory to point the way--suggesting such strange ultimate -practical applications as the receiverless radio, for example. Was that -what he had here? - -He gave up. It was a question that would burn at him until he found the -answer, but just now he had work to do, and he'd better be doing it. - -Skipping lunch entirely, he carefully checked the components lists, -made a copy of what he would need, checked the original envelope and -its contents with the man at the main receiving desk for his safe, and -caught the bus to Honolulu. - -At the Parts 'n Plenty store, Hsi read the list with a faint frown that -turned into a puzzled scowl. When he put it down he looked at Chandler -for a few moments without speaking. - -"Well, Hsi? Can you get all this for me?" The parts man shrugged and -nodded. "Koitska said in three days." - -Hsi looked startled, then resigned. "That puts it right up to me, -doesn't it? All right. Wait a moment." - -He disappeared in the back of the store, where Chandler heard him -talking on what was evidently an intercom system. He came back in a -few minutes and slipped Chandler's list into a slit in the locked -door. "Tough for Bert," he said. "He'll be working all night, getting -started--but I can take it easy till tomorrow. By then he'll know what -we don't have, and I'll find some way to get it." He shrugged again, -but his face was lined. Chandler wondered how one went about finding, -for example, a thirty megawatt klystron tube; but it was Hsi's problem. -He said: - -"All right, I'll see you Monday." - -"Wait a minute, Chandler." Hsi eyed him. "You don't have anything -special to do, do you? Well, come have dinner with me. Maybe I can get -to know you. Then maybe I can answer some of your questions, if you -like." - - * * * * * - -They took a bus out Kapiolani Boulevard, then got out and walked a -few blocks to a restaurant named Mother Chee's. Hsi was well known -there, it seemed. He led Chandler to a booth at the back, nodded to -the waiter, ordered without looking at the menu and sat back. "You -malihinis don't know much about food," he said, humorously patronizing. -"I think you'll like it. It's all fish, anyway." - -The man was annoying. Chandler was moved to say, "Too bad, I was hoping -for duck in orange sauce, perhaps some snow peas--" - -Hsi shook his head. "There's meat, all right, but not here. You'll -only find it in the places where the execs sometimes go.... Tell me -something, Chandler. What's that scar on your forehead." - -Chandler touched it, almost with surprise. Since the medics had treated -it he had almost forgotten it was there. He began to explain, then -paused, looking at Hsi, and changed his mind. "What's the score? You -testing me, too? Want to see if I'll lie about it?" - -Hsi grinned. "Sorry. I guess that's what I was doing. I do know what an -'H' stands for; we've seen them before. Not many. The ones that do get -this far usually don't last long. Unless, of course, they are working -for somebody whom it wouldn't do to offend," he explained. - -"So what you want to know, then, is whether I was really hoaxing or -not. Does it make any difference?" - -"Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!" -Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow, -as he observed his own vehemence. - -"Sorry, Hsi. It makes a difference to me, too. Well, I wasn't hoaxing. -I was possessed, just like any other everyday rapist-murderer, only I -couldn't prove it. And it didn't look too good for me, because the -damn thing happened in a pharmaceuticals plant. That was supposed to be -about the only place in town where you could be sure you wouldn't be -possessed, or so everybody thought. Including me. Up to the time I went -ape." - -Hsi nodded. The waiter approached with their drinks. Hsi looked at -him appraisingly, then did a curious thing. He gripped his left wrist -with his right hand, quickly, then released it again. The waiter did -not appear to notice. Expertly he served the drinks, folded small pink -floral napkins, dumped and wiped their ashtray in one motion--and then, -so quickly that Chandler was not quite sure he had seen it, caught -Hsi's wrist in the same fleeting gesture just before he turned and -walked away. - -Without comment Hsi turned back to Chandler. He said, "I believe you. -Would you like to know why it happened? Because I think I can tell you. -The execs have all the antibiotics they need now." - -"You mean--" Chandler hesitated. - -"That's right. They did leave some areas alone, as long as they weren't -fully stocked on everything they might want for the foreseeable future. -Wouldn't you?" - -"I might," Chandler said cautiously, "if I knew what I was--being an -exec." - -Hsi said, "Eat your dinner. I'll take a chance and tell you what I -know." He swallowed his whiskey-on-the-rocks with a quick backward jerk -of the head. "They're mostly Russians--you must know that much for -yourself. The whole thing started in Russia." - -Chandler said, "Well, that's pretty obvious. But Russia was smashed -up as much as anywhere else. The whole Russian government was -killed--wasn't it?" - -Hsi nodded. "They're not the government. Not the exec. Communism -doesn't mean any more to them than the Declaration of Independence -does--which is nothing. It's very simple, Chandler: they're a project -that got out of hand." - - * * * * * - -Back four years ago, he said, in Russia, it started in the last days -of the Second Stalinite Regime, before the Neo-Krushchevists took over -power in the January Push. - -The Western World had not known exactly what was going on, of course. -The "mystery wrapped in a riddle surrounded by an enigma" had become -queerer and even more opaque after Kruschchev's death and the revival -of such fine old Soviet institutions as the Gay Pay Oo. That was the -development called the Freeze, when the Stalinites seized control -in the name of the sacred Generalissimo of the Soviet Fatherland, a -mighty-missile party, dedicated to bringing about the world revolution -by force of sputnik. The neo-Krushchevists, on the other hand, believed -that honey caught more flies than vinegar; and, although there were few -visible adherents to that philosophy during the purges of the Freeze, -they were not all dead. Then, out of the Donbas Electrical Workshop, -came sudden support for their point of view. - -It was a weapon. It was more than a weapon, an irresistable tool--more -than that, the way to end all disputes forever. It was a simple radio -transmitter (Hsi said)--or so it seemed, but its frequencies were on -an unusual band and its effects were remarkable. It controlled the -minds of men. The "receiver" was the human brain. Through this little -portable transmitter, surgically patch-wired to the brain of the person -operating it, his entire personality was transmitted in a pattern of -very short waves which could invade and modulate the personality of any -other human being in the world. For that matter, of any animal, as long -as the creature had enough "mind" to seize-- - -"What's the matter?" Hsi interrupted himself, staring at Chandler. -Chandler had stopped eating, his hand frozen midway to his mouth. He -shook his head. - -"Nothing. Go on." Hsi shrugged and continued. - -While the Western World was celebrating Christmas--the Christmas before -the first outbreak of possession in the outside world--the man who -invented the machine was secretly demonstrating it to another man. Both -of them were now dead. The inventor had been a Pole, the other man a -former Party leader who, four years before, had rescued the inventor's -dying father from a Siberian work camp. The Party leader had reason to -congratulate himself on that loaf cast on the water. There were only -three working models of the transmitter--what ultimately was refined -into the coronet Chandler had seen on the heads of Koitska and the -girl--but that was enough for the January push. - -The Stalinites were out. The neo-Krushchevists were in. - -A whole factory in the Donbas was converted to manufacturing these -little mental controllers as fast as they could be produced--and -that was fast, for they were simple in design to begin with and were -quickly refined to a few circuits. Even the surgical wiring to the -brain became unnecessary as induction coils tapped the encephalic -rhythms. Only the great amplifying hookup was really complicated. Only -one of those was necessary, for a single amplifier could serve as -re-broadcaster--modulator for thousands of the headsets. - -"Are you sure you're all right?" Hsi demanded. - -Chandler put down his fork, lit a cigarette and beckoned to the waiter. -"I'm all right. I just want another drink." - -He needed the drink. For now he knew what he was building for Koitska. - - * * * * * - -The waiter brought two more drinks and carried away the uneaten food. -"We don't know exactly who did what after that," Hsi said, "but -somehow or other it got out of hand. I think it was the technical -crew of the factory that took over. I suppose it was an inevitable -danger." He grinned savagely. "I can just imagine the Party workers -in the factory," he said, "trying to figure out how to keep them in -line--bribe them or terrify them? Give them dachas or send a quota -to Siberia? Neither would work, of course, because there isn't any -bribe you can give to a man who only has to stretch out his hand to -take over the world, and you can't frighten a man who can make you -slit your own throat. Anyway, the next thing that happened--the -following Christmas--was when they took over the world. It wasn't a -Party movement at all any more. A lot of the workers were Czechs and -Hungarians and Poles, and the first thing they wanted to do was to -even a few scores. - -"So here they are! Before they let the whole world go bang they got out -of range. They got themselves out of Russia on two Red Navy cruisers, -about a thousand of them; then they systematically triggered off every -ballistic missile they could find ... and they could find all of them, -sooner or later, it was just a matter of looking. As soon as it was -safe they moved in here. Best place in the world for them. - -"There are only a thousand or so of them here on the Islands, and -nobody outside the Islands even knows where they are. If they did, what -good would it do them? They can kill anyone, anywhere. They kill for -fun, but sometimes they kill for a reason too. When one of them goes -wandering for kicks he makes it a point to mess up all the transport -and communications facilities he comes across--especially now, since -they've stockpiled everything they're likely to need for the next -twenty years. We don't know what they're planning to do when the twenty -years are up. Maybe they don't care. Would you?" - -Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said. -"Who's 'we'?" - -Hsi carefully unwrapped a package of cigarettes, took one out and lit -it. He looked at it as though he were not enjoying it; cigarettes had a -way of tasting stale these days. As they were. "Just a minute," he said. - -Tardily Chandler remembered the quick grasp of the waiter's fingers on -Hsi's wrist, and that the waiter had been hovering, inconspicuously -close, all through their meal. Hsi was waiting for the man to return. - -In a moment the waiter was back, looking directly at Chandler. He -looped his own wrist with his fingers and nodded. Hsi said softly, -"'We' is the Society of Slaves. That's all of us--slaves--but only a -few of us belong to the Society. We--" - -There was a crash of glass. The waiter had dropped their tray. - -Across the table from Chandler, Hsi looked suddenly changed. His left -hand lay on the table before him, his right hand poised over it. -Apparently he had been about to show Chandler again the sign he had -made. - -But he could not do it. His hand paused and fluttered, like a captured -bird. Captured it was. Hsi was captured. Out of Hsi's mouth, with -Hsi's voice, came the light, tonal rhythms of Rosalie Pan. "_This_ -is an unexpected pleasure, love! I never expected to see you here. -Enjoying your meal?" - - -IX - -Chandler had his empty glass halfway to his lips, automatically, before -he realized there was nothing in it to brace him. He said hoarsely, -"Yes, thanks. Do you come here often?" It was like the banal talk of a -language guide, wildly inappropriate to what had been going on a moment -before. He was shaken. - -"Oh, I love it," cooed Hsi, investigating the dishes before him. "All -finished, I see. Too bad. Your friend doesn't feel like he ate much, -either." - -"I guess he wasn't hungry," Chandler managed. - -"Well, I am." Hsi cocked his head and smiled like a female -impersonator. "I know! Are you doing anything special right now, love? -I know you've eaten, but--well, I've been a good girl and I guess I can -eat a real meal, I mean not with somebody else's teeth, and still keep -the calories in line. Suppose I meet you down at the Beach? There's a -place there where the luau is divine. I can be there in half an hour." - -Chandler's breathing was back to normal. Why not? "I'll be delighted." - -"Luigi the Wharf Rat, that's the name of it. They won't let you in, -though, unless you tell them you're with me. It's special." Hsi's eye -closed in Rosalie Pan's wink. "Half an hour," Hsi said, and was again -himself. He began to shake. - -The waiter brought him straight whiskey and, pretense abandoned, stood -by while Hsi drank it. After a moment he said, "Scares you. But--I -guess we're all right. She couldn't have heard much. You'd better go, -Chandler. I'll talk to you again some other time." - -Chandler stood up. But he couldn't leave Hsi like that. "Are you all -right?" - -Hsi almost managed control. "Oh--I think so. Not the first time it's -come close, you know. Sooner or later it'll come closer still, and that -will be the end, but--yes, I'm all right for now." - -Chandler tarried. "You were saying something about the Society of -Slaves." - -"Damn it, go!" Hsi barked. "She'll be waiting for you.... Sorry, -I didn't mean to shout. But go." As Chandler turned, he said more -quietly, "Come around to the store tomorrow. Maybe we can finish our -talk then." - - * * * * * - -Luigi the Wharf Rat's was not actually on the beach but on the bank of -a body of water called the Ala Wai Canal. Across the water were the -snowtopped hills. A maitre-de escorted Chandler personally to a table -on a balcony, and there he waited. Rosalie's "half-hour" was nearly -two; but then he heard her calling him from across the room, in the -voice which had reached a thousand second balconies, and he rose as she -came near. - -She said lightly, "Sorry. You ought to be flattered, though. It's a -twenty-minute drive--and an hour and a half to put on my face, so you -won't be ashamed to be seen with me. Well, it's good to be out in my -own skin for a change. Let's eat!" - -The talk with Hsi had left a mark on Chandler that not even this girl's -pretty face could obscure. It was a pretty face, though, and she was -obviously exerting herself to make him enjoy himself. He could not help -responding to her mood. - -She talked of her life on the stage, the excitement of a performance, -the entertainers she had known. Her conversation was one long -name-drop, but it was not pretense: the world of the famous was the -world she had lived in. It was not a world that Chandler had ever -visited, but he recognized the names. Rosie had been married once to -an English actor whose movies Chandler had made a point of watching on -television. It was interesting, in a way, to know that the man snored -and lived principally on vitamin pills. But it was a view of the man -that Chandler had not sought. - -The restaurant drew its clientele mostly from the execs, young ones or -young-acting ones, like the girl. The coronets were all over. There had -been a sign on the door: - - KAPU, WALIHINI! - -to mark it off limits to anyone not an exec or a collaborator. Still, -Chandler thought, who on the island was not a collaborator? The only -effective resistance a man could make would be to kill everyone -within reach and then himself, thus depriving them of slaves--and -that was, after all, only what the execs themselves had done in other -places often enough. It would inconvenience them only slightly. The -next few planeloads or shiploads of possessed warm bodies from the -mainland would be permitted to live, instead of being required to dash -themselves to destruction, like the crew of the airplane that had -carried Chandler. Thus the domestic stocks would be replenished. - -An annoying feature of dining with Rosalie in the flesh, Chandler -found, was that half a dozen times while they were talking he found -himself taken, speaking words to Rosie that were not his own, usually -in a language he did not understand. She took it as a matter of -course. It was merely a friend, across the room or across the island, -using Chandler as the casual convenience of a telephone. "Sorry," she -apologized blithely after it happened for the third time, and then -stopped. "You don't like that, love, do you?" - -"Can you blame me?" He stopped himself from saying more; he was -astonished even so at his tone. - -She said it for him. "I know. It takes away your manhood, I suppose. -Please don't let it do that to you, love. We're not so bad. Even--" -She hesitated, and did not go on. "You know," she said, "I came here -the same way you did. Kidnaped off the stage of the Winter Garden. Of -course, the difference was the one who kidnaped me was an old friend. -Though I didn't know it at the time and it scared me half to death." - -Chandler must have looked startled. She nodded. "You've been thinking -of us as another race, haven't you? Like the Neanderthals or--well, -worse than that, maybe." She smiled. "We're not. About half of us -came from Russia in the first place, but the others are from all over. -You'd be astonished, really." She mentioned several names, world-famous -scientists, musicians, writers. "Of course, not everybody can qualify -for the club, love. Wouldn't be exclusive otherwise. The chief rule -is loyalty. I'm loyal," she added gently after a moment, "and don't -you forget it. Have to be. Whoever becomes an exec has to be with us, -all the way. There are tests. It has to be that way--not only for our -protection. For the world's." - -Chandler was genuinely startled at that. Rosie nodded seriously. "If -one exec should give away something he's not supposed to it would upset -the whole applecart. There are only a thousand of us, and I guess -probably two billion of you, or nearly. The result would be complete -destruction." - -Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but -then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, -outnumbered though they were two million to one, could not fail to -triumph. The contest would not be in doubt. If the whole thousand execs -at once began systematically to kill and destroy, instead of merely -playing at it as the spirit moved them, they could all but end the -human race overnight. A man could be made to slash his throat in a -quarter of a minute. An exec, killing, killing, killing without pause, -could destroy his own two million enemies in an eight-hour day. - -And there were surer, faster ways. Chandler did not have to imagine -them, he had seen them. The massacre of the Orphalese, the victims at -the Monument--they were only crumbs of destruction. What had happened -to New York City showed what mass-production methods could do. No doubt -there were bombs left, even if only chemical ones. Shoot, stab, crash, -blow up; swallow poison, leap from window, slit throat. Every man a -murderer, at the touch of a mind from Hawaii; and if no one else was -near to murder, surely each man could find a victim in himself. In -one ravaging day mankind would cease to exist as a major force. In a -week the only survivors would be those in such faroff and hopelessly -impotent places that they were not worth the trouble of tracking down. - - * * * * * - -"You hate us, don't you?" - -Chandler paused and tried to find an answer. Rosie was not either -belligerent or mocking. She was only sympathetically trying to reach -his point of view. He shook his head silently. - -"Not meaning 'no'--meaning 'no comment'? Well, I don't blame you, love. -But do you see that we're not altogether a bad thing? It's bad that -there should be so much violence. In a way. Hasn't there always been -violence? And what were the alternatives? Until we came along the world -was getting ready to kill itself anyway." - -"There's a difference," Chandler mumbled. He was thinking of his wife. -He and Margot had loved each other as married couples do--without any -very great, searing compulsion; but with affection, with habit and -with sporadic passion. Chandler had not given much thought to the -whole, though he was aware of the parts, during the last years of his -marriage. It was only after Margot's murder that he had come to know -that the sum of those parts was a quite irreplaceable love. - -But Rosie was shaking her head. "The difference is all on our side. -Suppose Koitska's boss had never discovered the coronets. At any moment -one country might have got nervous and touched off the whole thing--not -carefully, the way we did it, with most of the really dirty missiles -fused safe and others landing where they were supposed to go. I mean, -touched off a _war_. The end, love. The bloody _finis_. The ones that -were killed at once would have been the lucky ones. No, love," she -said, in dead earnest, "we aren't the worst things that ever happened -to the world. Once the--well, the _bad_ part--is over, people will -understand what we really are." - -"And what's that, exactly?" - -She hesitated, smiled and said modestly, "We're gods." - -It took Chandler's breath away--not because it was untrue, but because -it had never occurred to him that gods were aware of their deity. - -"We're gods, love, with the privilege of electing mortals to the club. -Don't judge us by anything that has gone before. Don't judge us by -anything. We are a New Thing. We don't have to conform to precedent -because we upset all precedents. From now on, to the end of time, the -rules will grow from us." - -She patted her lips briskly with a napkin and said, "Would you like to -see something? Let's take a little walk." - -She took him by the hand and led him across the room, out to a sundeck -on the other side of the restaurant. They were looking down on what had -once been a garden. There were people in it; Chandler was conscious of -sounds coming from them, and he was able to see that there were dozens -of them, perhaps a hundred, and that they all seemed to be wearing -suntans like his own. - -"From Tripler?" he guessed. - -"No, love. They pick out those clothes themselves. Stand there a -minute." - -The girl in the coronet walked out to the rail of the sundeck, where -pink and amber spotlights were playing on nothing. As she came into the -colored lights there was a sigh from the people in the garden. A man -walked forward with an armload of leis and deposited them on the ground -below the rail. - -They were _adoring_ her. - -Rosalie stood gravely for a moment, then nodded and returned to -Chandler. - -"They began doing that about a year ago," she whispered to him, as a -murmur of disappointment came up from the crowd. "Their own idea. We -didn't know what they wanted at first, but they weren't doing any harm. -You see, love," she said softly, "we can make them do anything we like. -But we don't make them do that." - - * * * * * - -Hours later, Chandler was not sure just how, they were in a light plane -flying high over the Pacific, clear out of sight of land. The moon was -gold above them, the ocean black beneath. - -Chandler stared down as the girl circled the plane, slipping lower -toward the water, silent and perplexed. But he was not afraid. He was -almost content. Rosie was good company--gay, cheerful--and she had -treasures to share. It had been an impulse of hers, a long drive in -her sports car and a quick, comfortable flight over the ocean to cap -the evening. It had been a pleasant impulse. He reflected gravely that -he could understand now how generations of country maidens had been -dazzled and despoiled. A touch of luxury was a great seducer. - -The coronet on the girl's body could catch his body at any moment. She -had only to think herself into his mind, and her will, flashed to a -relay station like the one he was building for Koitska, at loose in -infinity, could sweep into him and make him a puppet. If she chose, he -would open that door beside him and step out into a thousand feet of -air and a meal for the sharks. - -But he did not think she would do it. He did not think anyone would, -really, though with his own eyes he had seen some anyones do things as -bad as that and sickeningly worse. There was no corrupt whim of the -most diseased mind in history that some torpid exec had not visited -on a helpless man, woman or child in the past years. Even as they -flew here, Chandler knew, the gross bodies that lay in luxury in the -island's villas were surging restlessly around the world; and death and -horror remained where they had passed. It was a paradox too great to be -reconciled, this girl and this vileness. He could not forget it, but he -could not feel it in his glands. She was pretty. She was gay. He began -to think thoughts that had left him alone for a long time. - -The dark bulk of the island showed ahead and they were sinking toward a -landing. - -The girl landed skillfully on a runway that sprang into light as she -approached--electronic wizardry, or the coronet and some tethered serf -at a switch? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered very greatly at that -moment to Chandler. - -"Thank you, love," she said, laughing. "I liked that. It's all very -well to use someone else's body for this sort of thing, but every now -and then I want to keep my own in practice." - -She linked arms with him as they left the plane. "When I was first -given the coronet here," she reminisced, amusement in her voice, "I -got the habit real bad. I spent six awful months--really, six months -in bed! And by myself at that. Oh, I was all over the world, and -skin-diving on the Barrier Reef and skiing in Norway and--well," she -said, squeezing his arm, "never _mind_ what all. And then one day I got -on the scales, just out of habit. Do you know what I _weighed_?" She -closed her eyes in mock horror, but they were smiling when she opened -them again. "I won't do that again, love. Of course, a lot of us do -let ourselves go. Even Koitska. Especially Koitska. And some of the -women--But just between us, the ones who do really didn't have much to -keep in shape in the first place." - -She led the way into a villa that smelled of jasmine and gardenias, -snapped her fingers and subdued lights came on. "Like it? Oh, we've -nothing but the best. What would you like to drink?" - -She fixed them both tall, cold glasses and vetoed Chandler's choice of -a sprawling wicker chair to sit on. "Over here, love." She patted the -couch beside her. She drew up her legs, leaning against him, very soft, -warm and fragrant, and said dreamily, "Let me see. What's nice? What do -you like in music, love?" - -"Oh ... anything." - -"No, no! You're supposed to say, 'Why, the original-cast album from -_Hi There_.' Or anything else I starred in." She shook her head -reprovingly, and the points of her coronet caught golden reflections -from the lights. "But since you're obviously a man of low taste -I'll have to do the whole bit myself." She touched switches at a -remote-control set by her end of the couch, and in a moment dreamy -strings began to come from tri-aural speakers hidden around the room. -It was not _Hi There_. "That's better," she said drowsily, and in a -moment, "Wasn't it nice in the plane?" - -"It was fine," Chandler said. Gently--but firmly--he sat up and reached -automatically into his pocket. - -The girl sighed and straightened. "Cigarette? They're on the table -beside you. Hope you like the brand. They only keep one big factory -going, not to count those terrible Russian things that're all air and -no smoke." She touched his forehead with cool fingers. "You never told -me about that, love." - -It was like an electric shock--the touch of her fingers and the touch -of reality at once. Chandler said stiffly, "My brand. But I thought you -were there at the trial." - -"Oh, only now and then. I missed all the naughty parts--though, to tell -the truth, that's why I was hanging around. I do like to hear a little -naughtiness now and then ... but all I heard was that stupid lawyer and -that stupid judge. Made me mad." She giggled. "Lucky for you. I was so -irritated I decided to spoil their fun too." - - * * * * * - -Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed -to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a -young girl. Happens every day. Of course, it was one of your friends -that was doing it for me, but I didn't miss any of what was going on, -I can give you a blow-by-blow description if you like. The people in -the town where I lived, at that time, thought I was doing it on my own, -though, and they didn't approve. Hoaxing--you know? They thought I was -so perverse and cruel that I would do that sort of thing under my own -power, instead of with some exec--or, as they would have put it, being -ignorant, some imp, or devil, or demon--pulling the strings." - -He was shaking. He waited for what she had to say; but she only -whispered, "I'm sorry, love," and looked so contrite and honest that, -as rapidly as it had come upon him, his anger passed. - -He opened his mouth to say something to her. He didn't get it said. -She was sitting there, looking at him, alone and soft and inviting. -He kissed her; and as she returned the kiss, he kissed her again, and -again. - -But less than an hour later he was in her Porsche, cold sober, raging, -frustrated, miserable. He slammed it through the unfamiliar gears as he -sped back to the city. - -She had left him. They had kissed with increasing passion, his hands -playing about her, her body surging toward him, and then, just then, -she whispered, "No, love." He held her tighter and without another word -she opened her eyes and looked at him. - -He knew what mind it was that caught him then. It was her mind. -Stiffly, like wood, he released her, stood up, walked to the door and -locked it behind him. - -The lights in the villa went out. He stood there, boiling, looking -into the shadows through the great, wide, empty window. He could see -her lying there on the couch, and as he watched he saw her body toss -and stir; and as surely as he had ever known anything before he knew -that somewhere in the world some woman--or some man!--lay locked with a -lover, violent in love, and was unable to tell the other that a third -party had invaded their bed. - -Chandler did not know it until he saw something glistening on his -wrist, but he was weeping on the wild ride back to Honolulu in the car. -Her car. Would there be trouble for his taking it? God, let there -be trouble! He was in a mood for trouble. He was sick and wild with -revulsion. - -Worse than her use of him, a casual stimulant, an aphrodisiac touch, -was that she thought what she did was right. Chandler thought of the -worshipping dozens under the sundeck of the exec restaurant, and -Rosalie's gracious benediction as they made her their floral offerings. -Blind, pathetic fools! - -Not only the deluded men and women in the garden were worshippers -trapped in a vile religion, he thought. It was worse. The gods and -goddesses worshipped at their own divinity as well! - - - - -X - - -Three days later Koitska's voice, coming from Chandler's lips, summoned -him out to the TWA shack again. - -Wise now in the ways of this world, Chandler commandeered a police car -and was hurried out to the South Gate, where the guards allowed him a -car of his own. The door of the building was unlocked and Chandler went -right up. - -He was astonished. The fat man was actually sitting up. He was fully -dressed--more or less; incongruously he wore flowered shorts and a -bright red, short-sleeve shirt, with rope sandals. He said, "You fly -a _gilikopter_? No? No difference. Help me." An arm like a mountain -went over Chandler's shoulders. The man must have weighed three hundred -pounds. Slowly, wheezing, he limped toward the back of the room and -touched a button. - -A door opened. - -Chandler had not known before that there was an elevator in the -building. That was one of the things the exec did not consider -important for his slaves to know. It lowered them with great grace and -delicacy to the first floor, where a large old Cadillac, ancient but -immaculately kept, the kind that used to be called a "gangster's car," -waited in a private parking bay. - -Chandler followed Koitska's directions and drove to an airfield where -a small, Plexiglas-nosed helicopter waited. More by the force of -Chandler pushing him from behind than through his own fat thighs, -Koitska puffed up the little staircase into the cabin. Originally the -copter had been fitted for four passengers. Now there was the pilot's -seat and a seat beside it, and in the back a wide, soft couch. Koitska -collapsed onto it. His face blanked out--he was, Chandler knew, -somewhere else, just then. - -In a moment his eyes opened again. He looked at Chandler with no -interest at all, and turned his face to the wall. - -After a moment he wheezed. "Sit down. At de controls." He breathed -noisily for a while. Then, "It von't pay you to be interested in -Rosalie," he said. - -Chandler was startled. He craned around in the seat but saw only -Koitska's back. "I'm not! Or anyway--" But he had no place to go in -that sentence, and in any case Koitska no longer seemed interested. - -After a moment Koitska stirred, settled himself more comfortably, and -Chandler felt himself taken. He turned to face the split wheel and the -unfamiliar pedals and watched himself work the controls. It was an -admirable performance. Whoever Chandler was just then--he could not -guess--he was a first-class helicopter pilot. - - * * * * * - -They crossed a wide body of ocean and approached another island; from -one quick glance at a navigation map that his eyes had taken, Chandler -guessed it to be Hilo. He landed the craft expertly on the margin of a -small airstrip, where two DC-3s were already parked and being unloaded, -and felt himself free again. - -Two husky young men, apparently native Hawaiians by their size, rolled -up a ramp and assisted Koitska down it and into a building. Chandler -was left to his own devices. The building was rundown but sound. Around -it stalky grass clumped, long uncut, and a few mauve and scarlet -blossoms, almost hidden, showed where someone had once tended beds of -bougainvillea and poinsettias. He could not guess what the building -had been doing there, looking like a small office-factory combination -out in the remote wilds, until he caught sight of a sign the winds had -blown against a wall: _Dole_. Apparently this had been headquarters -for one of the plantations. Now it was stripped almost clean inside, a -welter of desks and rusted machines piled heedlessly where there once -had been a parking lot. New equipment was being loaded into it from the -cargo planes. Chandler recognized some of it as from the list he had -given the parts man, Hsi. There also seemed to be a gasoline-driven -generator--a large one--but what the other things were he could not -guess. - -Besides Koitska, there were at least five coronet-wearing execs visible -around the place. Chandler was not surprised. It would have to be -something big to winkle these torpid slugs out of their shells, but he -knew what it was, and that it was big enough to them indeed; in fact, -it was their lives. He deduced that Koitska's plans for his future -comfort required a standby transmitter to service the coronets, in case -something went wrong. And clearly it was this that they were to put -together here. - -For ten hours, while the afternoon became dark night, they worked -at a furious pace. When the sun set one of the execs gestured and -the generator was started, rocking on its rubber-tired wheels as its -rotors spun and fumes chugged out, and they worked on by strings of -incandescent lights. It was pick-and-shovel work for Chandler, no -engineering, just unloading and roughly grouping the equipment where -it was ready to be assembled. The execs did not take part in the work. -Nor were they idle. They busied themselves in one room of the building -with some small device--Chandler could not see what--and when he looked -again it was gone. He did not see them take it away and did not know -where it was taken. Toward midnight he suddenly realized that it was -likely some essential part which they would not permit anyone but -themselves to handle, and that, no doubt, was why they had come in -person, instead of working through proxies. - -Just before they left Koitska and two or three of the other execs -quizzed him briefly. He was too tired to think beyond the questions, -but they seemed to be trying to find out if he was able to do the -simpler parts of the construction without supervision, and they seemed -satisfied with the answers. He flew the helicopter home, with someone -else guilding his arms and legs, but he was half asleep as he did it, -and he never quite remembered how he managed to get back to his room at -Tripler. - - * * * * * - -The next morning he went back to Parts 'n Plenty with an additional -list, covering replacement of some parts that had been damaged. Hsi -glanced at it quickly and nodded. "All this stuff I have. You can pick -it up this afternoon if you like." - -Chandler offered him a cigarette out of a stale pack. "About the other -night--" - -Hsi began to perspire, but he said, casually enough, "Interested in -baseball?" - -"Baseball?" - -Hsi said, as though there had been nothing incongruous about the -question, "There'll be a Little League game this afternoon. Back of the -school on Punahou and Wilder. I thought I might stop by, then we can -come back and pick up the rest of your gear. Two o'clock. Hope I'll see -you." - -Chandler walked away thoughtfully. He had no real intention of going -there, but something in Hsi's attitude suggested more than a ball game; -after a quick and poor lunch he decided to go. - -The field was a dirty playground, scuffed out of what had probably -once been an attractive campus. The players were ten-year-olds, of the -mixture of hair colors and complexions typical of the islands. Chandler -was puzzled. Surely even the wildest baseball rooter wouldn't go far -out of his way for this, and yet there was an audience of at least -fifty adults watching the game. And none seemed to be related to the -ballplayers. The Little Leaguers played grave, careful ball, and the -audience watched them without a word of parental encouragement or joy. - -Hsi approached him from the shadow of the school building. "Glad you -could make it, Chandler. No, no questions. Just watch." - -In the fifth inning, with the score aggregating around thirty, there -was an interruption. A tall, red-headed man glanced at his watch, -licked his lips, took a deep breath and walked out onto the diamond. He -glanced at the crowd, while the kids suspended play without surprise. -Then the red-headed man nodded to the umpire and stepped off the field. -The ballplayers resumed their game, but now the whole attention of the -audience was on the red-headed man. - -Suspicion crossed Chandler's mind. In a moment it was confirmed, as the -red-headed man raised his hands waist high and clasped his right hand -around his left wrist--only for a moment, but that was enough. - -The ball game was a cover. Chandler was present at a meeting of what -Hsi had called The Society of Slaves, the underground that dared to pit -itself against the execs. - -Hsi cleared his throat and said, "This is the one. I vouch for him." -And that was startling too, Chandler thought, because all these -wrist-circled men and women were looking at _him_. - - * * * * * - -"All right," said the red-headed man nervously, "let's get started -then. First thing, anybody got any weapons? Sure? Take a look--we don't -want any slipups. Turn out your pockets." - -There was a flurry and a woman near Chandler held up a key ring with a -tiny knife on it "Penknife? Hell, yes; get rid of it. Throw it in the -outfield. You can pick it up after the meeting." A hundred eyes watched -the pearly object fly. "We ought to be all right here," said the -red-headed man. "The kids have been playing every day this week and -nobody looked in. But _watch your neighbor_. See anything suspicious, -don't wait. Don't take a chance. Holler 'Kill the umpire!' or anything -you like, but holler. Good and loud." He paused, breathing hard. "All -right, Hsi. Introduce him." - -The parts man took Chandler firmly by the shoulder. "This fellow -has something for us," he said. "He's working for the exec Koitska, -building what can't be anything else but a duplicate of the machine -that they use to control us. He--" - -"Wait a minute!" A bearded man came forward and peered furiously into -Chandler's face. "Look at his head! Don't you see he's branded?" - -Chandler touched his scar as the man with the beard hissed, "Damned -hoaxer! This is the lowest species of life on the face of the -earth--someone who pretended to be possessed in order to do some damned -dirty act What was it, hoaxer? Murder? Burning babies alive?" - -Hsi economically let go of Chandler's shoulder, half turned the bearded -man with one hand and swung with the other. "Shut up, Linton. Wait till -you hear what he's got for us." - -The bearded man, sprawling and groggy, slowly rose as Hsi explained -tersely what he had guessed of Chandler's work--as much as Chandler -himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it -won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can -sabotage it! How would you like that? The execs switching over to -this equipment while the other one is down for maintenance--and their -headsets don't work!" - -There was a terrible silence, except for the sounds of the children -playing ball. Two runs had just scored. Chandler recognized the -silence. It was hope. - -Linton broke it, his blue eyes gleaming above the beard. "No! Better -than that. Why wait? We can _use_ this fellow's machine. Set it up, get -us some headsets--and we can control the execs themselves!" - - * * * * * - -The silence was even longer; then there was a babble of discussion, but -Chandler did not take part in it. He was thinking. It was a tremendous -thought. - -Suppose a man like himself were actually able to do what they wanted -of him. Never mind the practical difficulties--learning how it worked, -getting a headset, bypassing the traps Koitska would surely have set -to prevent just that. Never mind the penalties for failure. Suppose -he could make it work, and find fifty headsets, and fit them to the -fifty men and women here in this clandestine meeting of the Society of -Slaves.... - -Would there, after all, be any change worth mentioning in the state of -the world? - -Or was Lord Acton, always and everywhere, right? Power corrupts. -Absolute power corrupts absolutely. The power locked in the coronets -of the exec was more than flesh and blood could stand; he could almost -sense the rot in those near him at the mere thought. - -But Hsi was throwing cold water on the idea. "Sorry, but I know that -much: One exec can't control another. The headpieces insulate against -control. Well." He glanced at his watch. "We agreed on twenty minutes -maximum for this meeting," he reminded the red-headed man, who nodded. - -"You're right." He glanced around the group. "I'll make the rest of it -fast. News: You all know they got some more of us last week. Have you -all been by the Monument? Three of our comrades were still there this -morning. But I don't think they know we're organized, they think it's -only individual acts of sabotage. In case any of you don't know, the -execs can't read our minds. Not even when they're controlling us. Proof -is we're all still alive. Hanrahan knew practically every one of us, -and he's been lying out there for a week with a broken back, ever since -they caught him trying to blow up the guard pits at East Gate. They had -plenty of chance to pump him if they could. _They can't._ Next thing. -No more individual attacks on one exec. Not unless it's a matter of -life and death, and even then you're wasting your time unless you've -got a gun. They can grab your mind faster than you can cut a throat. -Third thing: Don't get the idea there are good execs and bad execs. -Once they put that thing on their heads they're all the same. Fourth -thing. You can't make deals. They aren't that worried. So if anybody's -thinking of selling out--I'm not saying anyone is--forget it." He -looked around. "Anything else?" - -"What about germ warfare in the water supply?" somebody ventured. - -"Still looking into it. No report yet. All right, that's enough for -now. Meeting's adjourned. Watch the ball game for a while, then drift -away. _One at a time._" - -Hsi was the first to go, then a couple of women together, then a -sprinkling of other men. Chandler was in no particular hurry, although -it seemed time to leave anyway, because the ball game appeared to be -over. A ten-year-old with freckles on his face was at the plate, but -he was leaning on his bat, staring at Chandler with wide, serious eyes. - -Chandler felt a sudden chill. - -He turned, began to walk away--and felt himself seized. - - * * * * * - -He walked slowly into the schoolhouse, unable to look around. Behind -him he heard a confused sob, tears and a child's voice trying to -blubber through: "Something _funny_ happened." - -If the child had been an adult it might have been warning enough. But -the child had never experienced possession before, was not sure enough, -was clear into the schoolhouse before the remaining members of the -Society of Slaves awoke to their danger. He heard a quick cry of _They -got him!_ Then Chandler's legs stopped walking and he addressed himself -savagely. A few yards away a stout Chinese lady was mopping the tiles; -she looked up at him, startled, but no more startled than Chandler was -himself. "You idiot!" Chandler blazed. "Why do you have to get mixed -up in this? Don't you know it's wrong, love? Stay here!" Chandler -commanded himself. "Don't you _dare_ leave this building!" - -And he was free again, but there was a sudden burst of screams from -outside. - -Bewildered, Chandler stood for a moment, as little able to move as -though the girl still had him under control. Then he leaped through a -classroom to a window, staring. Outside in the playground there was -wild confusion. Half the spectators were on the ground, trying to rise. -As he watched, a teen-age boy hurled himself at an elderly lady, the -two of them falling. Another man flung himself to the ground. A woman -swung her pocketbook into the face of the man next to her. One of the -fallen ones rose, only to trip himself again. It was a mad spectacle, -but Chandler understood it: What he was watching was a single member -of the exec trying to keep a group of twenty ordinary, unarmed human -beings in line. The exec was leaping from mind to mind; even so, the -crowd was beginning to scatter. - -Without thought Chandler started to leap out to help them; but the -possessor had anticipated that. He was caught at the door. He whirled -and ran toward the woman with the mop; as he was released, the woman -flung herself upon him, knocking him down. - -By the time he was able to get up again it was far too late to help ... -if there ever had been a time when he could have been of any real help. - -He heard shots. Two policeman had come running into the playground, -with guns drawn. - -The exec who had looked at him out of the boy's eyes, who had -penetrated this nest of enemies and extricated Chandler from it, had -taken first things first. Help had been summoned. Quick as the coronets -worked, it was no time at all until the nearest persons with weapons -were located, commandeered and in action. - -Two minutes later there no longer was resistance. - -Obviously more execs had come to help, attracted by the commotion -perhaps, or summoned at some stolen moment after the meeting had first -been invaded. There were only five survivors on the field. Each was -clearly controlled. They rose and stood patiently while the two police -shot them, shot them, paused to reload and shot again. The last to die -was the bearded man, Linton, and as he fell his eyes brushed Chandler's. - -Chandler leaned against a wall. - -It had been a terrible sight. The nearness of his own death had been -almost the least of it. - -He had no doubt of the identity of the exec who had saved him and -destroyed the others. Though he had heard the voice only as it came -from his own mouth, he could not miss it. It was Rosalie Pan. - -He looked out at the red-headed man, sprawled across the foul line -behind third base, and remembered what he had said. There weren't any -good execs or bad execs. There were only execs. - - - - -XI - - -Whatever Chandler's life might be worth, he knew he had given it away -and the girl had given it back to him. - -He did not see her for several days, but the morning after the massacre -he woke to find a note beside his bed table. No one had been in the -room. It was his own sleeping hand that had written it, though the -girl's mind had moved his fingers: - - If you get mixed up in anything like that again I won't be able to - help you. So don't! Those people are just using you, you know. - Don't throw away your chances. Do you like surfboarding? - - Rosie - -But by then there was no time for surfboarding, or for anything -else but work. The construction job on Hilo had begun, and it was a -nightmare. He was flown to the island with the last load of parts. No -execs were present in the flesh, but in the first day Chandler lost -count of how many different minds possessed his own. He began to be -able to recognize them by a limp as he walked, by tags of German as he -spoke, by a stutter, a distinctive gesture of annoyance, an expletive. -As he was a trained engineer he was left to labor by himself for hours -on end. It was worse for the others. There seemed to be a dozen execs -hovering invisible around all the time; no sooner was a worker released -by one than he was seized by another. The work progressed rapidly, -but at the cost of utter exhaustion. By the end of the fourth day -Chandler had eaten only two meals and could not remember when he had -slept last. He found himself staggering when free, and furious with the -fatigue-clumsiness of his own body when possessed. At sundown on the -fourth day he found himself free for a moment and, incredibly, without -work of his own to do just then, until someone else completed a job -of patchwiring. He stumbled out into the open air and had time only -to gaze around for a moment before his eyes began to close. This must -once have been a lovely island. Even unkempt as it was, the trees were -tall and beautiful. Beyond them a wisp of smoke was pale against the -dark-blue evening sky; the breeze was scented.... He woke and found he -was already back in the building, reaching for his soldering gun. - -There came a point at which even the will of the execs was unable to -drive the flogged bodies farther, and then they were permitted to sleep -for a few hours. At daybreak they were awake again. The sleep was not -enough. The bodies were slow and inaccurate. Two of the Hawaiians, -straining a hundred-pound component into place, staggered, slipped--and -dropped it. - -Appalled, Chandler waited for them to kill themselves. - -But it seemed that the execs were tiring too. One of the Hawaiians said -irritably, with an accent Chandler did not recognize: "That's pau. All -right, you morons, you've won yourselves a vacation; we'll have to fly -you in replacements. Take the day off." And incredibly all eleven of -the haggard wrecks stumbling around the building were free at once. - -The first thought of every man was to eat, to relieve himself, to -remove a shoe and ease a blistered foot--to do any of the things they -had not been permitted to do. The second thought was sleep. - -Chandler dropped off at once, but he was overtired; he slept fitfully, -and after an hour or two of turning on the hard ground sat up, blinking -red-eyed around. He had been slow. The cushioned seats in the aircraft -and cars were already taken. He stood up, stretched, scratched himself -and wondered what to do next, and he remembered the thread of smoke he -had seen--when? three nights ago?--against the evening sky. - -In all those hours he had not had time to think one obvious thought: -There should have been no smoke there! The island was supposed to be -deserted. - -He stood up, looked around to get his bearings, and started off in the -direction he remembered. - - * * * * * - -It was good to own his body again, in poor condition as it was. It was -delicious to be allowed to think consecutive thoughts. - -The chemistry of the human animal is such that it heals whatever -thrusts it may receive from the outside world. Short of death, its -only incapacitating wound comes from itself; from the outside it can -survive astonishing blows, rise again and flourish. Chandler was not -flourishing, but he had begun to rise. - -Time had been so compressed and blurred in the days since the slaughter -at the Punahou School that he had not had time to grieve over the -deaths of his briefly-met friends, or even to think of their quixotic -plans against the execs. Now he began to wonder. - -He understood with what thrill of hope he had been received--a man like -themselves, not an exec, whose touch was at the very center of the exec -power. But how firm was that touch? Was there really anything he could -do? - -It seemed not. He barely understood the mechanics of what he was -doing, far less the theory behind it. Conceivably knowing where this -installation was he could somehow get back to it when it was completed. -In theory it might be that there was a way to dispense with the -headsets and exert power from the big board itself. - -A Cro-Magnard at the controls of a nuclear-laden jet bomber could -destroy a city. Nothing stopped him. Nothing but his own invincible -ignorance. Chandler was that Cro-Magnard; certainly power was here to -grasp, but he had no way of knowing how to pick it up. - -Still--where there was life there was hope. He decided he was wasting -time that would not come again. He had been wandering along a road -that led into a small town, quite deserted, but this was no time for -wandering. His place was back at the installation, studying, scheming, -trying to understand all he could. He began to turn, and stopped. - -"Great God," he said softly, looking at what he had just seen. The -town was deserted of life, but not of death. - - * * * * * - -There were bodies everywhere. - -They were long dead, perhaps years. They seemed natural and right as -they lay there. It was not surprising they had escaped his notice at -first. Little was left but bones and an occasional desiccated leathery -rag that might have been a face. The clothing was faded and rotted -away; but enough was left of the bodies and the clothes to make it -clear that none of these people had died natural deaths. A rusted blade -in a chest cage showed where a knife had pierced a heart; a small -skull near his feet (with a scrap of faded blue rompers near it) was -shattered. On a flagstone terrace a family group of bones lay radiating -outward, like a rosette. Something had exploded there and caught them -all as they turned to flee. There was a woman's face, grained like oak -and eyeless, visible between the fender of a truck and a crushed-in -wall. - -Like exhumed Pompeii, the tragedy was so ancient that it aroused only -wonder. The whole town had been blotted out. - -The execs did not take chances; apparently they had sterilized the -whole island--probably had sterilized all of them except Oahu itself, -to make certain that their isolation was complete, except for the -captive stock allowed to breed and serve them in and around Honolulu. - -Chandler prowled the town for a quarter of an hour, but one street was -like another. The bodies did not seem to have been disturbed even by -animals, but perhaps there were none big enough to show traces of such -work. - -Something moved in a doorway. - -Chandler thought at once of the smoke he had seen, but no one answered -his call and, though he searched, he could neither see nor hear -anything alive. - -The search was a waste of time. It also wasted his best chance to study -the thing he was building. As he returned to the cinder-block structure -at the end of the airstrip he heard motors and looked up to see a plane -circling in for a landing. - -He knew that he had only a few minutes. He spent those minutes as -thriftily as he could, but long before he could even grasp the -circuitry of the parts he had not himself worked on he felt a touch at -his mind. The plane was rolling to a stop. He and all of them hurried -over to begin unloading it. - -The plane was stopped with one wingtip almost touching the building, -heading directly into it--convenient for unloading, but a foolish -nuisance when it came time to turn it and take off again, Chandler's -mind thought while his body lugged cartons out of the plane. - -But he knew the answer to that. Takeoff would be no problem, any more -than it would for the other small transports at the far end of the -strip. - -These planes were not going to return, ever. - - * * * * * - -The work went on, and then it was done, or all but, and Chandler knew -no more about it than when it was begun. The last little bit was a -careful check of line voltages and a balancing of biases. Chandler -could help only up to a point, and then two execs, working through the -bodies of one of the Hawaiians and the pilot of a Piper Tri-Pacer who -had flown in some last-minute test equipment--and remained as part of -the labor pool--laboriously worked on the final tests. - -Spent, the other men flopped to the ground, waiting. - -They were far gone. All of them, Chandler as much as the others. But -one of them rolled over, grinned tightly at Chandler and said, "It's -been fun. My name's Bradley. I always think people ought to know each -other's names in cases like this. Imagine sharing a grave with some -utter stranger!" - -"Grave?" - -Bradley nodded. "Like Pharaoh's slaves. The pyramid is just about -finished, friend. You don't know what I'm talking about?" He sat up, -plucked a blade of stemmy grass and put it between his teeth. "I guess -you haven't seen the corpses in the woods." - -Chandler said, "I found a town half a mile or so over there, nothing in -it but skeletons." - -"No, heavens, nothing that ancient. These are nice fresh corpses, out -behind the junkheap there. Well, not _fresh_. They're a couple of weeks -old. I thought it was neat of the execs to dispose of the used-up labor -out of sight of the rest of us. So much better for morale ... until -Juan Simoa and I went back looking for a plain, simple electrical -extension cord and found them." - -With icy calm Chandler realized that the man was talking sense. Used-up -labor: the men who had unloaded the first planes, no doubt--worked -until they dropped, then efficiently disposed of, as they were so cheap -a commodity that they were not worth the trouble of hauling back to -Honolulu for salvage. "I see," he said. "Besides, dead men tell no -tales." - -"_And_ spread no disease. Probably that's why they did their killing -back in the tall trees. Always the chance some exec might have to come -down here to inspect in person. Rotting corpses just aren't sanitary." -Bradley grinned again. "I used to be a doctor at Molokai." - -"Lep--" began Chandler, but the doctor shook his head. - -"No, no, never say 'leprosy.' It's 'Hansen's disease.' Whatever it is, -the execs were sure scared of it. They wiped out every patient we had, -except a couple who got away by swimming; then for good measure they -wiped out most of the medical staff too, except for a couple like me -who were off-island and had the sense to keep quiet about where they'd -worked. I used," he said, rolling over his back and putting his hands -behind his head, "in the old days to work on pest-control for the -Public Health Service. We sure knocked off a lot of rats and fleas. I -never thought I'd be one of them." He was silent. - -Chandler admired his courage very much. The man had fallen asleep. - -Chandler looked at the others. "You going to let them kill us without a -struggle?" he demanded. - -The remaining Hawaiian was the only one to answer. He said, "You just -don't know how much _pilikia_ you're in. It isn't what we _let_ them -do." - -"We'll see," Chandler promised grimly. "They're only human. I haven't -given up yet." - - * * * * * - -But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved -him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find -himself standing, walking toward the Tri-Pacer. The sun was just -beginning to pink the sky and no one else was moving. "Sorry, love," -he apologized to himself. "You probably need to bathe and shave, but -I don't know how. Shave, I mean." He giggled. "Anyway, you'll find -everything you need at my house." - -He climbed into the plane. "Ever fly before?" he asked himself. "Well, -you'll love it. Here we go. _Close_ the door ... _snap_ the belt ... -_turn_ the switch." He admired the practiced ease with which his body -started the motor, raced it with a critical eye on the instruments, -turned the plane and lifted it off, up, into the rising sun. - -"Oh, dear. You _do_ need a bath," he told himself, wrinkling his nose -humorously. "No harm. I've the nicest tub--pink, deep--and nine kinds -of bath salts. But I wish you weren't so tired, love, because it's -a long flight and you're wearing me out." He was silent as he bent -to the correct compass heading and cranked a handle over his head to -adjust the trim. "Koitska's going to be so _huhu_," he said, smiling. -"Never fear, love, I can calm him down. But it's easier to do with you -in one piece, you know, the other way's too late." - -He was silent for a long time, and then his voice began to sing. - -They were songs from Rosalie's own musical comedies. Even with so poor -an instrument as Chandler's voice to work with, she sang well enough to -keep both of them entertained while his body brought the plane in for -a landing; and so Chandler went to live in the villa that belonged to -Rosalie Pan. - - - - -XII - - -"Love," she said, "there are worse things in the world than keeping me -amused when I'm not busy. We'll go to the beach again one day soon, I -promise." And she was gone again. - - * * * * * - -Chandler was a concubine--not even that; he was a male geisha, -convenient to play gin rummy with, or for company on the surfboards, or -to make a drink. - -He did not quite know what to make of himself. In bad times one hopes -for survival. He had hoped; and now he had survival, perfumed and -cushioned, but on what mad terms! Rosalie was a pretty girl, and a -good-humored one. She was right. There were worse things in the world -than being her companion; but Chandler could not adjust himself to the -role. - -It angered him when she got up from the garden swing and locked herself -in her room--for he knew that she was not sleeping as she lay there, -though her eyes were closed and she was motionless. It infuriated him -when she casually usurped his body to bring an ashtray to her side, or -to stop him when his hands presumed. And it drove him nearly wild to be -a puppet with her friends working his strings. - -He was that most of all. One exec who wished to communicate with -another cast about for an available human proxy nearby. Chandler -was that for Rosalie Pan: her telephone, her social secretary, and on -occasion he was the garment her dates put on. For Rosalie was one -of the few execs who cared to conduct any major part of her life in -her own skin. She liked dancing. She enjoyed dining out. It was her -pleasure to display herself to the worshippers at Luigi the Wharf Rat's -and to speed down the long combers on a surfboard. When another exec -chose to accompany her it was Chandler's body which gave the remote -"date" flesh. - -He ate very well indeed--in surprising variety. He drank heavily -sometimes and abstained others. Once, in the person of a Moroccan exec, -he smoked an opium pipe; once he dined on roasted puppy. He saw many -interesting things and, when Rosalie was occupied without him, he had -the run of her house, her music library, her pantry and her books. He -was not mistreated. He was pampered and praised, and every night she -kissed him before she retired to her own room with the snap-lock on the -door. - -He was miserable. - -He prowled the house in the nights after she had left him, unable -to sleep. It had been bad enough on Hilo, under the hanging threat -of death. But then, though he was only a slave, he was working at -something that used his skill and training. - -Now? Now a Pekingese could do nearly all she wanted of him. He despised -in himself the knowledge that with a Pekingese's cunning he was -contriving to make himself indispensable to her--her slippers fetched -in his teeth, his silky mane by her hand to stroke--if not these things -in actuality, then their very near equivalents. - -But what else was there for him? - -There was nothing. She had spared his life from Koitska, and if he -offended her, Koitska's sentence would be carried out. - -Even dying might be better than this, he thought. - -Indeed, it might be better even to go back to Honolulu and life. - - * * * * * - -In the morning he woke to find himself climbing the wide, carpeted -steps to her room. She was not asleep; it was her mind that was guiding -him. - -He opened the door. She lay with a feathery coverlet pulled up to her -chin, eyes open, head propped on three pillows; as she looked at him he -was free. "Something the matter, love? You fell asleep sitting up." - -"Sorry." She would not be put off. She made him tell her his -resentments. She was very understanding and very sure as she said, -"You're not a dog, love. I won't have you thinking that way. You're -my friend. Don't you think I need a friend?" She leaned forward. Her -nightgown was very sheer; but Chandler had tasted that trap before and -he averted his eyes. "You think it's all fun for us. I understand. Tell -me, if you thought I was doing important work--oh, _crucial_ work, -love--would you feel a little easier? Because I am. We've got the -whole work of the island to do, and I do my share. We've got our plans -to make and our future to provide for. There are so few of us. A single -H-bomb could kill us all. Do you think it isn't work, keeping that bomb -from ever coming here? There's all Honolulu to monitor, for they know -about us there. We can't like some disgusting nitwits like your Society -of Slaves destroy _us_. There's the problems of the world to see to. -Why," she said with pride, "we've solved the whole Indian-Pakistani -population problem in the last two months. They'll not have to worry -about famine again for a dozen generations! We're working on China now; -next Japan; next--oh, all the world. We'll have three-quarters of the -lumps gone soon, and the rest will have space to breathe in. It's work!" - -She saw his expression and said earnestly, "No, don't think that! You -call it murder. It is, of course. But it's the surgeon's knife. We're -quicker and less painful than starvation, love ... and if some of us -enjoy the work of weeding out the unfit, does that change anything? It -does not! I admit some of us are, well, _mean_. But not all. And we're -improving. The new people we take in are better than the old." - -She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. - -Then she shook her head. "Never mind," she said--apparently to herself. -"Forget it, love. Go like an angel and fetch us both some coffee." - - * * * * * - -Like an angel he went ... not, he thought bitterly, like a man. - -She was keeping something from him, and he was too stubborn to let her -tease him out of his mood. "Everything's a secret," he complained, and -she patted his cheek. - -"It has to be that way." She was quite serious. "This is the biggest -thing in the world. I'm fond of you, love, but I can't let that -interfere with my duty." - -"_Shto, Rosie?_" said Chandler's mouth thickly. - -"Oh, there you are, Andrei," she said, and spoke quickly in Russian. - -Chandler's brows knotted in a scowl and he barked: "_Nyeh mozhet bit!_" - -"Andrei...." she said gently. "_Ya vas sprashnivayoo...._" - -"_Nyet!_" - -"_No Andrei...._" - -Rumble, grumble; Chandler's body twitched and fumed. He heard his own -name in the argument, but what the subject matter was he could not -tell. Rosalie was coaxing; Koitska was refusing. But he was weakening. -After minutes Chandler's shoulders shrugged; he nodded; and he was -free. - -"Have some more coffee, love," said Rosalie Pan with an air of triumph. - -Chandler waited. He did not understand what was going on. It was up to -her to enlighten him, and finally she smiled and said: "Perhaps you can -join us, love. Don't say yes or no. It isn't up to you ... and besides -you can't know whether you want it or not until you try. So be patient -a moment." - -Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked: -"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's -room. A picture on the wall moved aside and there was a safe. Flick, -flick, Chandler's own fingers dialed a combination so rapidly that he -could not follow it. The door of the safe opened. - -And Chandler was free, and Rosalie excitedly leaping out of the bed -behind him, careless of the wisp of nylon that was her only garment, -crowding softly, warmly past him to reach inside the safe. She lifted -out a coronet very like her own. - -She paused and looked at Chandler. - -"You can't do anything to harm us with this one, love," she warned. -"Do you understand that? I mean, don't get the idea that you can tell -anyone anything. Or do something violent. You can't. I'll be right -with you, and Koitska will be monitoring the transmitter." She handed -him the coronet. "Now, when you see something interesting, you move -right in. You'll see how. It's the easiest thing in the world, and--Oh, -here. Put it on." - -Chandler swallowed with difficulty. - -She was offering him the tool that had given the execs the world. A -blunter, weaker tool than her own, no doubt. But still it was power -beyond his imagining. He stood there frozen as she slipped it on his -head. Sprung electrodes pressed gently against his temples and behind -his ears. She touched something.... - -Chandler stood motionless for a moment and then, without effort, -floated free of his own body. - - * * * * * - -Floating. Floating; a jellyfish floating. Trailing tentacles that -whipped and curled, floating over the sandbound claws and chitin that -clashed beneath, floating over the world's people, and them not even -knowing, not even seeing.... - -Chandler floated. - -He was up, out and away. He was drifting. Around him was no-color. -He saw nothing of space or size, he only saw, or did not see but -felt-smelled-tasted, people. They were the sandbound. They were the -creatures that crawled and struggled below, and his tentacles lashed -out at them. - -Beside him floated another. The girl? It had a shape, but not a human -shape--a pair of great projecting spheres, a cinctured area-rule shape. -Female. Yes, undoubtedly the girl. It waved a member at him and he -understood he was beckoned. He followed. - -Two of sandbound ones were ahead. - -The female shape slipped into one, he into the other. It was as easy to -invest this form with his own will as it was to command the muscles of -his hand. They looked at each other out of sandbound eyes. "You're a -boy!" Chandler laughed. The girl laughed: "You're an old washerwoman!" -They were in a kitchen where fish simmered on an electric stove. The -boy-Rosie wrinkled his-her nose, blinked and was empty. Only the small -almond-eyed boy was left, and he began to cry convulsively. Chandler -understood. He floated out after her. - -This way, this way, she gestured. A crowd of mudbound figures. She -slipped into one, he into another. They were in a bus now, rocking -along an inland road, all men, all roughly dressed. Laborers going -to clear a new section of Oahu of its split-level debris, Chandler -thought, and looked for the girl in one of the men's eyes, could not -find her, hesitated and--floated. She was hovering impatiently. This -way! - -He followed, and followed. - -They were a hundred people doing a hundred things. They lingered a -few moments as a teen-age couple holding hands in the twilight of the -beach. They fled from a room where Chandler was an old woman dying on -a bed, and Rosalie a stolid, uncaring nurse beside her. They played -follow-the-leader through the audience of a Honolulu movie theater, and -sought each other, laughing, among the fish stalls of King Street. Then -Chandler turned to Rosalie to speak and ... it all went out ... the -scene disappeared ... he opened his eyes, and he was back in his own -flesh. - -He was lying on the pastel pile rug in Rosalie's bedroom. - -He got up, rubbing the side of his face. He had tumbled, it seemed. -Rosalie was lying on the bed. - -In a moment she opened her eyes. - -"Well, love?" - -He said hoarsely, "What made it stop?" - -She shrugged. "Koitska turned you off. Tired of monitoring us, I -expect--it's been an hour. I'm surprised his patience lasted this -long." - -She stretched luxuriously, but he was too full of what had happened -even to see the white grace of her body. "Did you like it, love? Would -you like to have it forever?" - - - - -XIII - - -For nine days Chandler's status remained in limbo. He spent that day -in a state of numb bemusement, remembering the men and women he had -worn like garments, appalled and exhilarated. He did not see Rosalie -again that day, she kept to her room and he locked out. He was still a -lapdog, but a lapdog with a dream dangling before him. He went to sleep -that night thinking that he was a dog who might become a god, and he -had eight days left. - -The next day Rosalie wheedled another hour of the coronet from Koitska. -They explored the ice caves on Mount Rainier in the bodies of two -sick, starving hermits and wandered arm in arm near the destroyed -International Bridge at Niagara, breathing the spray of the unchanging -Falls. He had seven days left. - -They passed like a dream. He saw a great deal of the inner workings -of the exec, more than before. He had privileges. He was up for -membership in the club. Rosalie had proposed him. He talked with two -Czechoslovakian ballet dancers in their persons, and a succession of -heavily accented Russians and Poles and Japanese through the mouth of -the beach boy who came to tend Rosalie's garden. He thought they liked -him and was pleased that he penetrated where he had not been allowed -before ... until he realized that these freedoms were in themselves a -threat. They allowed him this contact so that they could look him over. -If they rejected him they would have to kill him, because he had seen -too much. But by then a week had passed, and another day, and though he -did not know it he had only one day left. Rosalie did what she could to -make the days of waiting easy for him. - -"Embarrassing, isn't it? I went through it myself, love. Come have a -drink." - -"When will I know?" he demanded fretfully. - -"Well." She hesitated. "I don't suppose there's any harm in telling -you, love, under the circumstances--" - -He knew what the circumstances were. - -"I guess I can tell you. You need just over seven hundred votes to -come in. You've got--" Her eyes glazed for a moment. She was looking -through some clerk's eyes, somewhere on the island. "You've got about a -hundred and fifty so far. Takes time, doesn't it? But it's worth it in -the end." - -"How many 'no' votes?" - -"None." She said gently, "You'll never have but one, love, because -that's all it takes." - -He stared. The girl gook took up his hand and kissed it lightly. "One -blackball's enough, yes, but never fear. Rosie's on your side." - - * * * * * - -Restlessly Chandler stood up and made himself another drink. His head -was beginning to buzz. They had been drinking on her sun terrace since -early afternoon. - -Rosalie came up beside him soothingly. "I know how you feel. Want me to -tell you about when I went through it?" - -"Sure," he said, stirring the ice around in the glass and drinking it -down. He made another drink absently, hardly hearing what she said, -although the sound of her voice was welcome. - -"Oh, that lousy headdress! It weighed twenty pounds, and they put it on -with hatpins." He caressed her absently. He had figured out that she -was talking about the night New York was bombed. "I was in the middle -of the big first-act curtain number when--" her face was strained, -even after years, even now that she was herself one of the godlike -ones--"when something took hold of me. I ran off the stage and right -out through the front door. There was a cab waiting. As soon as I got -in I was free, and the driver took off like a lunatic through the -tunnel, out to Newark Airport. I tell you, I was scared! At the toll -booth I screamed but my--friend--let go of the driver for a minute, -smashed a trailer-truck into a police car, and in the confusion we got -away. He took me over again at the airport. I ran bare as a bird into a -plane that was just ready to take off. The pilot was under control.... -We flew eleven hours, and I wore that damn feather headdress all the -way." - -She held out her glass for a refill. Chandler busied himself slicing -a lime for her drink. Now she was talking about her friend. "I hadn't -seen him in six years. I was just a kid, living in Islip. He was with -a Russian trade commission next door, in an old mansion. Well, he was -one of the ones, back in Russia, that came up with these." She touched -her coronet. "So," she said brightly, "he put me up for membership and -by and by they gave me one. You see? It's all very simple, except the -waiting." - -Chandler pulled her down on the couch beside him and made a toast. -"Your friend." - -"He's a nice guy," she said moodily, sipping her drink. "You know how -careful I am about getting exercise and so on? It's partly because of -him. You would have liked him, love, only--well, it turned out that he -liked me well enough, but he began to like what he could get through -the coronet a lot more. He got fat. A lot of them are awfully fat, -love," she said seriously. "That's why they need people like me. And -you. Replacements. Heart trouble, liver trouble, what can they expect -when they lie in bed day in and day out, taking their lives through -other people's bodies? I won't let myself go that way.... It's a -temptation. You know, almost every day I find some poor woman on a diet -and spend a solid hour eating creampuffs and gravies. How they must -hate me!" - -She grinned, leaned back and kissed him. - -Chandler put his arms around the girl and returned the kiss, hard. She -did not draw away. She clung to him, and he could feel in the warmth -of her body, the sound of her breath that she was responding. The -drink made him reckless; the last two weeks made him doubtful; he was -torn. He could tell that there was no resistance in her body, but the -coronet made it in doubt; she could fling him away from her with one -touch of the mind. Yet she didn't do it-- - -"_Vi myenya zvali?_" his own voice demanded, harsh and mocking. - - * * * * * - -The girl tried to push him away. Her eyes were bright and huge, staring -at him. "Andrei!" - -"_Da, Andrei! Kok eto dosadno!_" - -"Andrei, please. I know that you are--" - -"Filthy!" screamed Chandler's voice. "How can you? I do not allow -this carrion to touch you so--not vot is mine--I do not allow him to -live!" And Chandler dropped her and leaped to his feet. He fought. He -struggled; but only in his mind, and helplessly; his body carried him -out of the room, running and stumbling, out into the drive, into her -waiting car and away. - -He drove like a madman on roads he had never seen before. The car's -gears bellowed pain at their abuse, the tires screamed. - -Chandler, prisoned inside himself, recognized that touch. Koitska! He -knew who Rosalie Pan's lover had been. If he had been in doubt his own -voice, raucous and hysterical with rage, told him the truth. All that -long drive it screamed threats and obscenities at him, in Russian and -tortured English. - -The car stopped in front of the TWA facility and, still prisoned, his -body hurried in, bruising itself deliberately against every doorpost -and stick of furniture. "I could have smashed you in the car!" his -voice screamed hoarsely. "It is too merciful. I could have thrown you -into the sea! It is not painful enough." - -In the garage his body stopped and looked wildly around. "Knives, -torches," his lips chanted. "Shall I gouge out eyes? Slit throat?" - -A jar of battery acid stood on a shelf, "_Da, da!_" screamed Chandler, -stumbling toward it. "One drink eh? And I von't even stay vith you to -feel it, the pain--just a moment--then it eats the gut, the long slow -dying...." And all the time the body that was Chandler's was clawing -the cap off the jar, tilting it-- - -He dropped the jar, and leaped aside instinctively as it splintered at -his feet. - -He was free! - -Before he could move he was seized again, stumbled, crashed into a -wall-- - -And was free again. - -He stood waiting for a moment, unable to believe it; but he was still -free. The alien invader did not seize his mind. There was no sound. No -one moved. No gun fired at him, no danger threatened. - -He _was_ free; he took a step, turned, shook his head and proved it. - -He was free and, in a moment, realized that he was in the building with -the fat bloated body of the man who wanted to murder him, the body that -in its own strength could scarcely stand erect. - -It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his -life--except--that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had -nothing left to lose. - - - - -XIV - - -Chandler loped silently up the stairs to Koitska's suite. - -Halfway up he tripped and sprawled, half stunning himself against the -stair rail. It had not been his own clumsiness, he was sure. Koitska -had caught at his mind again, but only feebly. Chandler did not wait. -Whatever was interfering with Koitska's control, some distraction or -malfunction of the coronet or whatever, Chandler could not bank on its -lasting. - -The door was locked. - -He found a heavy mahogany chair, with a back of solid carved wood. He -flung it onto his shoulders, grunting, and ran with it into the door, -a bull driven frantic, lunging out of its querencia to batter the wall -of the arena. The door splintered. - -Chandler was gashed with long slivers of wood, but he was through the -door. - -Koitska lay sprawled along his couch, eyes staring. - -Alive or dead? Chandler did not wait to find out but sprang at him -hands outstreched. The staring eyes flickered; Chandler felt the pull -at his mind. But Koitska's strength was almost gone. The eyes glazed, -and Chandler was upon him. He ripped the coronet off and flung it -aside, and the huge bulk of Koitska swung paralytically off the couch -and fell to the floor. - -The man was helpless. He lay breathing like a steam engine, one eye -pressed shut against the leg of a coffee table, the other looking up at -Chandler. - -Chandler was panting almost as hard as the helpless mass at his feet. -He was safe for a moment. At the most for a moment, for at any time -one of the other execs might dart down out of the mind-world into the -real, looking at the scene through Chandler's eyes and surely deducing -what would be no more to his favor than the truth. He had to get away -from there. If he seemed busy in another room perhaps they would go -away again. Chandler turned his back on the paralyzed monster to flee. -It would be even better to try to lose himself in Honolulu--if he -could get that far--he did not in his own flesh know how to fly the -helicopter that was parked in the yard or he would try to get farther -still. - -But as he turned he was caught. - - * * * * * - -Chandler turned to see Koitska lying there, and screamed. - -His eyes were staring at Koitska. It was too late. He was possessed by -someone, he did not know whom. Though it made little enough difference, -he thought, watching his own hands reach out to touch the staring face. - -His body straightened, his eyes looked around the room, he went to the -desk. "Love," he cried to himself, "what's the matter with Koitska? -Write, for God's sake!" And he took a pencil in his hand and was free. - -He hesitated, then scribbled: _I don't know. I think he had a stroke. -Who are you?_ - -The other mind slipped tentatively into his, scanning the paper. -"Rosie, you idiot, who did you think?" he said furiously. "What have -you done?" - -_Nothing_, he began instinctively, then scratched the word out. -Briskly and exactly he wrote: _He was going to kill me, but he had some -kind of an attack. I took his coronet away. I was going to run._ - -"Oh, you fool," he told himself shrilly a moment later. Chandler's -body knelt beside the wheezing fat lump, taking its pulse. The faint, -fitful throb meant nothing to Chandler; probably meant nothing to Rosie -either, for his body stood up, hesitated, shook its head. "You've done -it now," he sobbed, and was surprised to find he was weeping real -tears. "Oh, love, why? I could have taken care of Koitska--somehow--No, -maybe I couldn't," he said frantically, breaking down. "I don't know -what to do. Do you have any ideas--outside of running?" - -It took him several seconds to write the one word, but it was really -all he could find to write. _No._ - -His lips twisted as his eyes read the word. "Well," he said -practically, "I guess that's the end, love. I mean, I give up." - -He got up, turned around the room. "I don't know," he told himself -worriedly. "There might be a chance--if we could hush this up. I'd -better get a doctor. He'll have to use your body, so don't be surprised -if there's someone and it isn't me. Maybe he can pull Andrei through. -Maybe Andrei'll forgive you then--Or if he dies," Chandler's voice -schemed as his eyes stared at the rasping motionless hulk, "we can say -you broke down the door to _help_ him. Only you'll have to put his -coronet back on, so it won't look suspicious. Besides that will keep -anyone from occupying him. Do that, love. Hurry." And he was free. - -Gingerly Chandler crossed the floor. - -He did not like to touch the dying animal that wheezed before him, -liked even less to give it back the weapon that, if it had only a few -moments of sentience again, it would use to kill him. But the girl was -right. Without the helmet any wandering curi-himself.[1] The helmet -would shield him from-- - -[Footnote 1: Transcriber's note: As printed. Missing words, probably -printer error.] - -Would shield anyone from-- - -Would shield Chandler himself from possession if he used it! - -He did not hesitate. He slipped the helmet on his head, snapped the -switch and in a moment stood free of his own body, in the gray, -luminous limbo, looking down at the pallid traceries that lay beneath. - - * * * * * - -He did not hesitate then either. - -He did not pause to think or plan; it was as though he had planned -every step, in long detail, over many years. Chandler for at least a -few moments had the freedom to battle the execs on their own ground, -the freedom that any mourning parent or husband in the outside world -would know well how to use. - -Chandler also knew. He was a weapon. He might die--but it was not a -great thing to die, millions had done it for nothing under the rule -of the execs, and he was privileged to be able to die trying to kill -_them_. - -He stepped callously around the hulk on the floor and found a door -behind the couch, a door and a hall, and at the end of that hall a -large room that had once perhaps been a message center. Now it held -rack after rack of electronic gear. He recognized it without elation. -It had had to be there. - -It was the main transmitter for all the coronets of the exec. - -He had only to pull one switch--that one there--and power would cease -to flow. The coronets would be dead. The execs would be only humans. -In five minutes he could destroy enough parts so that it would be at -least a week's work to build it again, and in a week the slaves in -Honolulu--somehow he could reach them, somehow he would tell them of -their chance--could root out and destroy every exec on all the islands. - -Of course, there was the standby transmitter he himself had helped to -build. - -He realized tardily that Koitska would have made some arrangement for -starting that up by remote control. - -He put down the tool-kit with which he had been advancing on the racks -of transistors, and paused to think. - -He was a fool, he saw after a moment. He could not destroy this -installation--not yet--not until he had used it. He remembered to sit -down so that his body would not crash to the floor, and then he sent -himself out and up, to scan the nearby area. - -There was no one there, nobody within a mile or more, except the feeble -glimmer that was dying Koitska. He did not enter that body. He returned -to his own long enough to barricade the door--it had a strong-looking -lock, but he shouldered furniture against it too--and then he went -up and out, grateful to Rosalie, who had taught him how to navigate -in the curious world of the mind, flashing across water, under a -mind-controlled plane, to the island of Hilo. - -There _had_ to be someone near the standby installation. - -He searched; but there was no one. No one in the building. No one near -the ruined field. No one in the village of the dead nearby. He was -desperate; he became frantic; he was on the point of giving up, and -then he found--someone? But it was a personality feebler than stricken -Koitska's, a bare swampfire glow. - -No matter. He entered it. - - * * * * * - -At once he screamed silently and left it again. He had never known such -pain. A terrifying fire in the belly, a thunder past any migraine in -the head, a thousand lesser aches and woes in every member. He could -not imagine what person lived in such distress; but grimly he forced -himself to enter again. - -Moaning--it was astonishing how thick and animal-like the man's voice -was--Chandler forced his borrowed body stumbling through the jungle. -Time was growing very short. He drove it gasping at an awkward run -across the airfield, dodged around one wrecked plane and blundered -through the door. The pain was intolerable. He was hardly able to -maintain control. - -Chandler stretched out the borrowed hand to pick up a heavy wrench even -while he thought. But the hand would not grasp. He brought it to the -weak, watering eyes. The hand had no fingers. It ended in a ball of -scar tissue. The left hand was nearly as misshapen. - -Panicked, Chandler retreated from the body in a flash, back to his -own; and then he began to think. - -It was, it had to be, the creature he had seen in the village of the -dead. A leper. One of the few who escaped from the colony at Molokai. -Chandler drove himself back to that body and, though it could not work -well, he could make it turn a frequency dial, using its clubbed hands -like sticks. He could make it throw a switch. He then caused it to -place the toothed edge of a rusting saw on the ground and strike at it -with its throat in a sort of reverse guillotine. Chandler could not see -that he had a choice; he dared not have that creature left where it -might be seized the moment he quit its body. It was better dead. - -After that it all became easy. - -In his own body he destroyed the installation in Oahu. A few minutes -at Koitska's work bench, and he had changed the frequency on his own -coronet to transmit on the new band the leper's touch had given the -Hilo equipment. - -He worked rapidly and without errors, one ear cocked for the sound of -someone coming to threaten what he was doing (the sound never came), -impatient to get the job done. - -He was very impatient, for when he was done he would be the only exec. - -And the execs would be only slaves. - - -XV - - -Chandler strolled out of the TWA building, very tired. - -It was dawn. His job was done. He carried the coronet, the only working -coronet in the world, in his hand. He had spent the night killing, -killing, killing, and blood had washed away his passions; he was spent. -He had killed every exec he could find, in widening circles from the -building where his body lay. He had slit his dozen throats and fired -bullets into his hundred hearts and hundred brains; he had entered -bodies only long enough to feel for a coronet, and if it was there the -body was doomed; and he stopped only when it occurred to him he wasn't -even doing that much any more. He had probably killed some dozens of -slaves, as well as all the execs in reach. And when he stopped the orgy -of killing he had made one last search of the nearer portions of the -island and found no one alive, and he had then realized that one of the -closest execs had been Rosalie Pan. - -He knew that in a while he would feel very badly for having killed that -girl (which could she have been? The one with the shotgun in the mouth? -The one whose intestines he had spilled with a silver letteropener in a -whim of hara-kiri?), but just now he was too worn. - -He was Chandler the giant killer, who had destroyed the creatures -who had destroyed a world, but he was all tired out. He poked at the -filigree of the coronet absently, as a man might caress the pretty rug -which once had been the skin of a tiger that almost killed him. It was -all that was left of the exec power. Who held this single coronet still -held the world. - -Of course, said a sly and treasonable voice in a corner of his mind, -the job was not really done. - -Not quite. Not all. - -The job would not be done until it was impossible for anyone to find -enough of the installations to be able to reconstruct them. - -And then, said the voice, while Chandler stared at the dawn, listening, -what about the _good_ things the exec had done? Would he not be foolish -to throw away so casually this one, unique chance to right every -imaginable wrong the world might do him? - -Chandler went back into the building and brewed some strong black -coffee. While it was bubbling on the stove he slipped the coronet back -atop his head. Only for a while, he promised. A very little while. He -pledged himself solemnly that it would be just long enough to clean up -all loose ends--not a moment longer, he pledged. And knew that he was -lying. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Plague of Pythons, by Frederik Pohl - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAGUE OF PYTHONS *** - -***** This file should be named 51804.txt or 51804.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/8/0/51804/ - -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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