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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..bc5fb7e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60591 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60591) diff --git a/old/60591-8.txt b/old/60591-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 551dda7..0000000 --- a/old/60591-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2227 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Man Alone, by Don Berry - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Man Alone - -Author: Don Berry - -Release Date: October 29, 2019 [EBook #60591] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN ALONE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - _The ship went out safely, came back - safely. The pilot was unaware of anything - wrong. Somewhere in the depths of his brain - was locked the secret that made him_ - - MAN ALONE - - BY DON BERRY - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1958. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -_Phoenix I_ belled out smoothly in the region of a G-type star. There -was a bright flare as a few random hydrogen atoms were destroyed by the -ship's sudden appearance. One moment space had been empty except for -the few drifting atoms, and the next--the ship was there, squat and -ugly. - -Inside, a bell chimed sweetly, signalling the return to a universe of -mass and gravitation and a limiting velocity called C. Colonel Richard -Harkins glanced briefly out his forward port, and saw no more than he -had expected to see. - -At this distance the G-type star was no brighter or yellower than many -another he had seen. For a man it might have been hard to tell which -star it was. But the ship knew. - -Within one of the ungainly bulges that sprouted along the length of -_Phoenix I_, a score of instruments mindlessly swung to focus their -receptors on the nearest body of star-mass. - -Harkins leaned contentedly back in the padded control seat and watched -while the needles gradually found their final position on dials. A few -scattered lights bloomed on the console ahead of him. He grunted once -with satisfaction as the thermoneedle steadied at 6,000° C. After that -he was silent. - -He leaned forward and flipped up two switches, and a faint sound of -a woodpecker came into the control room as the spectrograph punched -its data on a tape. The end of the tape began to come out of a slot. -Harkins tore it off when the spectrograph was finished with it, -threaded it on the feeder spool of the ship's calculator, and inserted -the free end in the input slot. - -The calculator blinked once at him, as if surprised, and spat out a -little card with the single word SOL neatly printed in the center. - -Harkins whistled softly to himself, happily. _I had a true wife but I -left her_, he whistled. Old song. Old when he first heard it. _Had a -true...._ - -He wondered vaguely what a "wife" was, but decided it probably didn't -matter. _Had a true wife but I left her_, he whistled. - -He was glad to be home. - -The direction finder gave him a fix on Earth and he tried to isolate -the unimportant star from the others in the same general direction, but -he couldn't do it, visually. The ship would do it, though, he wasn't -worried about that. He wished he could use the Skipdrive to get a -little closer. It would take a long time to get in close on the atomic -rockets. Several days, maybe. - -Well, he had to do it. The Skipdrive wasn't dependable in mass-space. -You couldn't tell what it was going to do when you got it too close to -a large mass. He'd have to go in on the chemical. - -_Mass-space_, he thought. _Molasses-space, I call it._ - -Too slow, everything too slow, that was the trouble. - -Reluctantly he switched off the Skipdrive's complacent purr. The sudden -lack of noise in the cabin made him squint his eyes, and he thought he -was going to get a headache for some reason. Abruptly, all the cabin -furniture seemed very harsh and angular, distorted in some strange way -so as to be distinctly irritating to him. He brushed his foot across -the deck and the sound of his boot was rasping and annoying. - -He didn't like this space much. It wasn't soft, it wasn't restful, it -was all full of clutter and junk. He grimaced with distaste at the -suddenly ugly console. - -He looked down at the floor, frowning, pinching his nose between thumb -and forefinger, flirting with the idea of turning the drive back on. - -But for some reason he couldn't quite think of at the moment, he -couldn't do that. He frowned more severely, but it didn't help; he -still couldn't think of the reason he couldn't do it. That headache was -coming on strong, now. He'd have to take something for it. - -_Well, well_, he thought resignedly. _Home again, home again._ - -He was sure he was glad to be home. - -_Home is the hunter, home from something something...._ - -He couldn't remember any of the rest. What the hell was a hunter, -anyway? They irritated him, these nonsense songs. He didn't know why he -kept thinking about them. Hunters and wifes. Nonsense. Babble. - -He keyed the directional instruments into the course-control and armed -the starting charge for the chemical motors. When he had checked -everything carefully, as he had been taught, he strapped himself into -the control chair with his hand on the arm-rest over the firing button. -He knew it was going to hurt him. - -He fired, and it did hurt him, the sense of explosive pressure, the -abrupt thundering vibration. It was not the same as the soft, enfolding -purr of the Skipdrive, comforting, assuring, loving.... - -_What's that? Loving?_ - -_A wife is a Martha_, he thought. _A Martha is a wife._ - -It seemed to mean something, but he didn't have time to decipher it -before he passed out. - - * * * * * - -When he came to he immediately switched off the chemical drive. It had -given him a good shove in the right direction, and that was all that -was necessary. He would coast in now, and he had to save his fuel for -maneuvering in atmosphere. - -After that, he rested, trying to accustom himself to the harshness of -things in mass-space. - -His time-to-destination indicator gave him ten hours, when he began to -feel uneasy. He couldn't pin-point the source of unease at first. He -was fidgety, impatient. Or something that resembled those feelings. It -was like when he couldn't remember why he wasn't supposed to turn the -Skipdrive back on. It occurred to him that he wasn't thinking clearly, -somehow. - -He noticed to his surprise he had switched on his transmitter. Probably -while he was drumming his fingers or something. He switched it off. - -Thirty minutes later he found himself toying with the same switch. He -had turned it on again. This was getting ridiculous. He shouldn't be so -nervous. - -He grinned wryly to himself. The transmitter switch, indeed. If ever -a useless piece of junk had been put in _Phoenix I_, that was it. -Transmitter switch! - -He laughed aloud. And left the switch open. - -He found himself staring with fascination at the microphone. It was -pretty interesting, he had to admit that. It was mounted on the back -of the control chair, on swivel arms. It could easily be pulled into -position right in front of his face. Just as if it had been meant to. -He fiddled with it interestedly, swinging it back and forth, seeing how -it moved on the swivel arms. - -He was interested in the way it moved so smoothly, that was all. By -coincidence, when he let go of it, it was directly in front of him. - -There was something picking at him, something was nagging at the back -of his mind. He whistled under his breath and knuckled his eyes. He -scrubbed at the top of his head with his right hand, as if he could rub -the annoying thought. Suddenly he heard his own voice saying: - -"Earth Control, this is _Phoenix I_. Come in please." - -He looked up, startled. Now why would he say a thing like that? - -And then, in the midst of his surprise, he repeated it! - -"Earth Control, this is _Phoenix I_. Come in please." - -He flipped the Receive switch without volition. His hands had suddenly -developed a life of their own. He began to breathe more rapidly, and -his forehead felt cool. He swallowed twice, quickly. - -There was no answer on the receiver. - -_No what? Answer? What is "answer"?_ - -"Estimate arrival four hundred seventy-two minutes," he said loudly, -looking at the time-to-destination indicator. - -There was a sudden flood of relief, washing away the irritation that -had been picking away at the back of his mind. He felt at ease again. -He turned off both transmitter and receiver and stood out of the -control chair. He felt better now, but he was a little worried about -what had happened. - -He couldn't understand it. Suddenly he had lost control of himself, -of his voice and his hands. He was doing meaningless things, saying -things, making motions stupidly. Every movement he made, every act, was -without pattern or sense. - -He had a sudden thought, and it made his whole body grow cold and -prickly, and he almost choked. - -_Maybe I'm going Nova._ - -He was near the edge of panic for a minute. _Nova Nova Nova Nova._ - -Brightly flaring, burning out, lighting space around for billions of -light years.... - -That was how it started, he knew. Unpredictability, variation without -explanation.... He sat back down in the control chair, feeling shaky -and weak and frightened. - -By the time he had regained his balance, time-to-destination told him -453 minutes. - - * * * * * - -He guided _Phoenix I_ into an orbit around Earth. He circled three -times, braking steadily with his forward rockets until he entered -atmosphere. - -On his fifth pass he spotted his landing place. How he knew, he didn't -quite understand, but he knew it when he saw it. There was a sense of -satisfaction somewhere in him that told him, "That's it. That's the -right place." - -Each succeeding pass was lower and slower, until finally he was -maneuvering the ungainly bulk of the ship like a plane, wholly in -atmosphere. - -_Like a what?_ - -But he was too busy to worry about it. Fighting the _Phoenix I_ down in -atmosphere required all his attention. Absently he noted the amazingly -regular formations of rock surrounding his landing place. - -His hands flew over the console automatically, a skilled performer -playing a well-learned fugue without conscious attention to detail. -The overall pattern was clear in his mind, and he knew with absolute -confidence he could depend on his hands to take care of the necessary -small motions that went to make up the large pattern. - -He did not think: Upper left button third from end right bank rockets -three-quarters correct deviation. - -He thought: _Straight_. And his hand darted out. - -The ground was near below him, now. He could see parts of the landscape -through the port, wavering uncertainly in the heat waves from his -landing blast. - -Slower ... slower ... slower.... The roar was reflected loud off the -flat below.... - -Touch. - -_Perfect_, he thought happily. _Perfect perfect perfect._ - -He leaned contentedly back in the control chair and watched the needles -of the console gauges fall lifeless back to the pins. - -He whistled a little tune under his breath and smiled. - -_Now what?_ - -Get out. - -He couldn't think of the reason for it, but he would do it. While he -waited for the hull to cool, he dropped the exit ladder, listened to -the whine of the servomotors. - -He opened the port and stood at the edge, looking out. His headache had -come back again, worse than ever, and he grimaced at the sudden pain. - -Before him stretched the flat black plane of the landing pad, ending -abruptly in the regular formations he had noted before. They were -mostly white, and contrasted strongly with the black of the pad. They -weren't, he realized, rock formations at all, they were-- - -They were--buildings, they-- - -His mind shied away from the thought. - -It was silent. His headache seemed to be affecting his vision, somehow. -Either that or the landing pad wasn't cool yet. When he looked toward -the--toward the white formations at the edge of the pad, they seemed to -waver slightly near the ground. Heat waves still, he decided. - -Nimbly, and with a pleasant sense of being home again, he scrambled -down the ladder and stood on the ground, tiny beneath the clumsy shape -of _Phoenix I_. - -About halfway between the edge of the pad and his ship stood a tiny -cluster of thin, upright poles. From their bases he could see black, -snakelike cables twisting off toward the edge, shifting in his -uncertain vision. He walked toward them. - -The silence was so complete it was unnatural. It was almost as if his -ears were plugged, rather than the simple absence of sound. Well, he -supposed that was natural, after all. He had lived with the buzzing -purr of the Skipdrive and the thunder of the rockets so long, any -silence would seem abnormal. - -As he drew closer to the upright rods, he saw each one was topped with -a bulge, a vaguely familiar.... - -They were microphones! They were just like the microphone in _Phoenix -I_, the one he had fooled with. - -He was sincerely puzzled. All that transmit-receive gadgetry in the -ship had been foolish, but what was he to think of finding it here on -his landing pad? It didn't make any sense. He was getting the uneasy -sense of confusion again. The headache was becoming almost unbearable. - -He walked over to the cluster of microphones. That was probably the -place to start. He took the neck of one in his hand and pulled it, but -it didn't move smoothly, as the one on his control chair had. It simply -tipped awkwardly toward him. - -Suddenly he felt something on his shoulder, and looked around quickly, -but could see nothing. The pressure on his shoulder remained, and he -vaguely brushed at it with his hand. It went away. - -He set the microphone back upright and looked back at his ship. There -was another pressure on his opposite shoulder, sudden and harder than -the first had been. He slapped at it, and stepped back, uncertainly. - -One of the microphones tipped toward him, but he hadn't touched it. He -took another step backwards, and felt something close tightly around -his left arm. He snapped his head to the left, but there was nothing -there. - -He twisted sharply away to the right, and the motion freed him, but -his shoulder hit something solid. He gasped, and his throat tightened -again. He raised his hand to his head. The headache was getting worse -all the time. - -Something touched him on the back. - -He spun, crouching. - -Nothing. - -He stood straight again, his eyes wide, panting from the fear that was -beginning to choke him. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried -to puzzle out what was happening to him. - -The air closed abruptly around both arms simultaneously, gripping so -tightly it hurt. - -He shouted and twisted loose and started to run back toward the ship. -He stumbled against an invisible something, fell against another, but -it kept him upright and prevented his falling. Several times as he -ran, things he could not see brushed him, touched him on the shoulders -and back. - -By the time he scrambled up the ladder, his breath was short, and -coming in little whimpers. The headache was the greatest pain he -thought he could ever have known, and he wondered if he were dying. - -He had to kick at invisible things that clutched at his feet on the -ladder, and when he reached the edge of the port he stood kicking and -flailing at nothing until he was certain none of the--creatures, things -were there. - -He shut the port swiftly and ran breathlessly up to the control room. -He threw himself into the padded chair. - -Finally he lowered his head into his hands and began to weep. - - -2. - -Night. - -The land turned gray and silver and white under the chill light of -the rising moon. The buildings of Gila Lake Base IV were sharp and -distinct, glowing faintly in the moonlight as if lit somehow inside the -concrete walls. - -On the landing pad, _Phoenix I_ squatted darkly, clumsily. The moon -washed its bulbous flanks with cascading light that flowed down the -long surfaces of the hull and disappeared into the absorbent blackness -without trace. Tiny prickling reflections of stars glinted from the -once-polished metal. - -At the edges of the Base, where wire meshes stretched up out of the -desert dividing the things of the desert from the things of men, -nervous patrols paced forlornly in the night. - -One of the blockhouses at the inner edge of the landing area presented -two yellow rectangles of windows to the night. Inside the blockhouse -were two men, talking. - -One of the men was in uniform, and his collar held the discreet -star-and-comet of a staff officer, SpaServ. He was young for his rank, -perhaps in his early forties, with gray eyes that now were harried. He -sat on the edge of his desk regarding the other man. - -The second of the two was a civilian. He was slumped in an oddly -incongruous overstuffed chair, with his legs stretched out straight -before him. He held the bowl of an unlit pipe in both hands and sucked -morosely on the stem as the SpaServ brigadier talked. He was slightly -younger than the other, but his hair was beginning to thin at the -temples. He had sharp blue eyes that regarded the tips of his shoes -without apparent interest. Colin Meany was his name, and he was a -psychiatrist. - -Finally General Banning finished his account of the afternoon, raised -his hands in a shrug, and said, "That's it. That's all we have." - -Colin Meany took his pipe out of his mouth and regarded the -tooth-marked bit curiously. He shoved it in his coat pocket and walked -over to the window, looking out across the moon-flooded flat to the -looming, ominous shape of _Phoenix I_. He stood with his hands clasped -behind him, rocking gently back and forth on his toes. - -"Ugly thing," he said casually. - -Banning shrugged. The psychiatrist turned away from the window and sat -down again. He began to fill his pipe. - -"Where is he now?" he asked. - -"In the ship," the general told him. - -"What's he doing?" - -Banning laughed bitterly. "Broadcasting a distress signal." - -"Voice?" - -"Does it matter?" the general asked. - -"I don't know." - -"No, it's code. It's an automatic tape. The kind all passenger vessels -carry." - -Colin considered this for a moment. "And he didn't say anything." - -"Absolutely nothing," said General Banning. "He got out of the ship, -walked over to the reception committee, slapped a few people and ran -back to the ship and locked himself in." - -"It doesn't make any sense." - -"You're telling me?" After a second the general added almost wistfully, -"He knocked Senator Gilroy down." - -Colin laughed. "Good for him." - -"Yeah," the general agreed. "That bastard fought us tooth and nail all -the way down the line, cutting appropriations, taking our best men.... -Then when we get a ship back, he's the first in line for the newsreels." - -Colin looked up. "You have newsreels?" - -"Sure, but I don't think they're processed yet." - -"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place? Check them, will you?" - -The general made a short phone call. When he hung up he looked -embarrassed. "You want to see them?" - -"Very much." - -"There's a viewing room in Building Three," Banning said. "We can walk." - - * * * * * - -When the lights had come on again, Colin sat staring at the blank -screen for a long time. Finally he sighed, stood and stretched. - -"Well," Banning said. "What do you think?" - -"I'll want to see it again. But it's pretty clear, I think." - -The general looked up in surprise. "Clear? It's just the same thing I -told you." - -"Oh, no," Colin said. "You left out the most important part." - -"What was that?" - -"Your boy is blind and deaf." - -"Blind and deaf! You're crazy. The ship, he looked at the ship, and the -microphone, and...." - -"Oh, it's pretty selective blindness," Colin said. He filled his pipe -with maddening slowness and lit it before he spoke again. - -"People," he said finally. "He doesn't see people. At all." - - * * * * * - -Harkins fell asleep leaning forward in the control chair with his -head on his arms. When he wakened, the sky outside the viewport was -turning dark. With a sense of sudden danger, he clamped down the metal -shutters over the port. Methodically he climbed down catwalks the -length of the ship, making certain all ports were secured both from -entry and from sight. He didn't want to see outside. - -When he had done this, he felt easier. Walking to the galley, he put a -can of soup in the heater, and took it back up to the control room with -him. - -He sat there, absently eating his soup and staring ahead at the -console. He noted he was beginning to get used to the harsh outlines it -presented in this space. Suddenly he realized there was a red light on -the board. He put the bowl of soup carefully on the deck and went over -to the transmitter where a loop of tape was endlessly repeating itself, -apparently broadcasting. He could not remember having inserted it. The -empty spool lying beside the transmitter read AUTOMATIC DISTRESS CODE. - -He understood all the words, all right, but put together they didn't -seem to make any sense. AUTOMATIC DISTRESS CODE. What would it be for? -Why would such a thing be broadcast? If you were in distress, you -surely knew it without transmitting it. - -He shook his head. Things were very bad with him. He was profoundly -disturbed by his loss of control. Performing all sorts of meaningless -actions without volition.... And now, with this tape, he had not even -been conscious of the act, could not remember it. - -He went back to the control chair and finished his bowl of soup. - -Thinking about it, his meaningless activities had all been centered -around one thing, this odd transmit-receive apparatus, this radio. -He had looked at it before, and he realized it was very carefully -constructed, and complicated. The wiring itself confused him. And more -than that, he could not determine any possible use such a thing might -have. - -Thinking about it gave him the same prickly sensation at the back of -his neck as when he thought about the nonsense words in the songs he -knew. "Wife." Things like that. - -He rubbed the back of his neck hard, until it hurt. He realized his -headache had almost gone away when he secured the ports, but now it was -coming back again. - -Another light flashed on the console, and a melodic "beep--beep" began -to sound from somewhere behind the panel. - -Automatically he reached forward and flipped a switch, and the -"beep--beep" stopped. Without surprise, he noticed it was the switch -marked Receive. - -So. When the light flashed and the "beep--beep" sounded he was supposed -to throw that Receive switch. Presumably, then, he should receive -something. Was that right? - -He looked around the control room, but nothing happened. - -Just on the edge of his consciousness there was a faint sussuration, -but when he turned his attention to it, it disappeared. There was no -sound. But when he thought of something else, it came back again. - -It was like an image caught in the corner of his eye. There was -nothing there, but sometimes you thought you caught just a flash of -something out of the corner of your eye. Like this afternoon.... - -He shuddered at the recollection. - -In all his life, he could not remember anything that had driven him -into such pure panic as the loathsome invisible touches he had felt. -What kind of creatures were these? - -This was Earth. This was his home, it was where he belonged, and he -couldn't remember anything about invisible.... - -Yes! Yes, he did remember! But there was still something wrong -because--he couldn't think why. - -He remembered walking on a grassy meadow on a spring day. The grass -was rich and luxuriant and the sun was hot copper in the sky. He was -walking toward the top of a hill. Right at the top there was a single -small, green tree. He was going to go up and lie down under that tree -and look down in the valley at the meadow. And beside him there was--a -presence. He remembered turning to look, and--nothing. There was -nothing there. - -But the feeling of the presence next to him made him pleased, somehow. -It was right. It was not menacing, like this afternoon, it was -more--comforting. As the sound the Skipdrive made was comforting. It -made him feel fine. But when he turned to look, there was nothing. - -He could not remember. - -What kind of presence? Like the ship? No, much smaller. Smaller even -than himself. Compared to the ship, he was small, quite small. He was -infinitely smaller than even planetary mass. And there were things on -the ship that were smaller than he. - -But he couldn't quite place himself with assurance on the scale of -size. He was larger than some things, like the bowl of soup, and he was -smaller than other things, like planets. He must be of a sort of medium -size. But closer to the bowl of soup than the planet. - -_A wife is a Martha._ - -He remembered thinking that just as the rockets had fired. It was in -the song.... He whistled a few bars. _I had a good wife but I left her, -oh, oh, oh, oh._ - -And it had something to do with the remembered--presence, when he was -walking in the meadow. - -But what was a Martha? You can't define a nonsense word in terms of -another nonsense word. Or perhaps, he thought ruefully, you can't -define it any _other_ way. - -_A wife is a Martha. A wife is a Martha. A Martha is a wife._ - -Nothing. - -But he felt the headache coming on again. - -He went down to the galley again, and took the soup bowl with him. He -put it in the washer, and rummaged around in the cabinets until he -found the little white pills that helped his headaches. He took three -of them before he went back up to the control room. - -He had to make some kind of plans for--for what? Escape? He didn't want -to escape. He was home. He wanted to stay here. But he had to deal with -the--things, somehow. He wondered if they could be killed. There was -no way to tell. If you killed one you couldn't see its body. - -And he didn't have any weapons, at any rate. He would simply have to -outsmart them. He wondered how smart they were. And how large. That -would make a good deal of difference, how large they were. - -He went to the viewport and cracked the shutter, just a little. It was -dark. He didn't want to go out in the dark, that was too much. It would -be too much risk. He would wait until morning. - -In spite of the pills, the headache was getting worse, almost to the -insane level it had been in the afternoon. He decided he'd better try -to sleep. - - -3. - -Colin and General Banning stood at the shoulder of the radio operator -in Gila Base IV Central Control. It was just past midnight. Banning's -fatigue was evident; Colin, having been involved a shorter time, still -looked reasonably fresh. - -Monotonously the radio tech droned: "Gila Control to _Phoenix I_ come -in please. Gila Control to _Phoenix I_ come in please. Gila Control to -_Phoenix I_ come in please." After every third repetition of the chant, -he switched to Receive and briefly listened to the buzz and crackle -from the overhead speakers. - -"Gila Control to _Phoenix I_...." - -"Is he still transmitting the distress code?" Colin asked. - -"Yes, sir," the tech said. "But he could still reply if he wanted -to. Distress operates from a separate transmitter on a single fixed -frequency. The ordinary transmitter isn't tied up." - -"Is he receiving?" - -"I think so. When we gave him the 'Message coming' impulse, he switched -to receive. That was hours ago." - -"Maybe he's tuned to the wrong frequency," Banning suggested. - -The tech looked up in surprise, then resumed his respectful attitude -toward the brass. "No, sir. His rig is a self-tuner. The signal -automatically tunes the receiver to the right frequency. He's getting -it, all right." - -"In other words," Colin said, "your voice is being broadcast on the -ship's speakers." - -"As far as I can tell." - -"Mm." - -Colin leaned back against a chart table and pulled on his pipe for a -few moments. - -"Please go on, sergeant," he said finally. "Keep trying. But change the -patter to 'please reply,' would you?" - -"What difference does that make?" Banning asked. "That's what 'come in' -means, anyway. Same thing." - -"Just an idea," Colin said. "Why don't you get some rest? You look -beat." - -"What kind of an idea?" Banning said, rubbing his forehead. - -"Can you get a couple of cots brought to your office?" - -"Yes, but what's your idea?" - -"Come on along and I'll tell you about it," Colin said. - -They left Central Control, with the voice of the sergeant sounding -behind them, "_Gila Control to Phoenix I please reply. Gila -Control...._" - -Reaching Banning's office, Colin sent one of the ubiquitous armed -guards after two cots. - -"You can't shoot all your energy at once," he pointed out, when Banning -protested he didn't need the sleep. "If we're going to get Harkins -out of that ship, we're going to have to stay in pretty good shape -ourselves." - -"All right," Banning grumbled. He made coffee on the hot plate from -the bottom drawer of his desk, grinning at Colin like a small boy -caught stealing cookies. "I like a little coffee once in a while," he -explained unnecessarily. - -When they had settled themselves with the coffee, Banning asked, "All -right, now. Why'd you change 'come in please' to 'please reply'?" - -"It's less ambiguous," Colin said. "'Come in please' could mean several -things." - -"So? Anybody with as much radio experience as Harkins knows what 'Come -in please' means." - -"You're going to have to get used to the idea you're not dealing with -Harkins in this. Take the point of view, this is somebody you've never -seen before. Somebody you have to figure out from scratch." - -"Mm. I suppose so. Okay, why the change?" - -"Well--" Colin hesitated. "First of all, this--blindness is purely a -functional block of some kind. There's nothing organically wrong with -his vision." - -"I'm still not sure I go along with your blind-deaf idea," the General -said dubiously. - -"I'm virtually certain, after seeing the film strip again. Your Colonel -Harkins behaves exactly like a man being molested by something he can't -see." - -"For the sake of argument, then...." Banning nodded. - -"All right. Presupposing he does not want to see human beings--for -whatever reason--there are several mechanisms he could use." - -"He didn't even have to come back," Banning pointed out. - -"That's one of the mechanisms. But he _did_ come back. Why? Problem -one, for the future. Mechanism two: Catalepsy. Suspension of _all_ -sensation and consciousness." - -"Obviously not the case." - -"Right. Mechanism three," Colin went on, ticking the points off on his -fingers, "_partial_ disorientation. Loss of perception of a single -class of objects, human beings." - -"Even that isn't entirely true," Banning said. "He _felt_ people." - -"That's right. And I think this is our opening wedge. Of the possible -means of avoidance I named, partial disorientation is the _least_ -successful of all. It involves too many contradictions. He was -disturbed by the microphones, for example. Why? Because they are -meaningful only in a context of human beings. Communication. He would -have to do some fancy twisting to avoid the notion of human beings. -The same goes for any other human artifact. Somehow, in order to -make the world 'reasonable' in his own terms, he has to explain the -existence of these things, without admitting the existence of people -who made and use them." - -"Impossible." - -"Very nearly. It means that some facet of his personality must be -continually making decisions about what can be recognized and what -cannot. His censoring mechanism is in a constant scramble to prevent -certain data from reaching his conscious mind. It has to justify and -explain away _all_ data which would eventually point to the existence -of human beings." - -"What the hell does he think _he_ is?" Banning asked angrily. - -"I have no idea. Maybe that's problem two for the future. At any rate, -as you pointed out, this is an impossible job. It must be infinitely -more difficult now that he's on Earth, where there are so many more -things to explain away. This is going to set up a terrific strain -inside. It may break him." - -"What would do that to a man?" - -"I don't know that, either," Colin admitted. "Our first problem now is -to get him out of the ship. And to do that, we have to contact him." - -"This is why you changed to 'please reply'? What good is it going to do -if he can't hear it, anyway?" - -"That's the point. I think he _can_ hear it. He can't _recognize_ it, -but that isn't quite the same thing. His eardrums still vibrate, the -data gets in, all right. But it doesn't reach the conscious level. -Fortunately, it isn't always necessary to be consciously aware of -a stimulus before you can respond to it. Frequently a persistent -stimulation just below the threshold of awareness will produce a -response in the organism. Sub-threshold stimulation, it's called." - -"Yeah," Banning said, "I've heard of it. Used it in advertising, didn't -they?" - -"For a while. Before Congress passed the Privacy Amendment." - -"Okay. Now what?" - -"Now we wait and see if it works. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up -if anything happens." - -Colin stretched out on one of the cots, put his hands behind his head -and soon was breathing deeply in an excellent imitation of sleep. - - * * * * * - -The clock on Banning's desk said 4:33 when his communicator chimed. -Banning was off his cot and at the desk before the first soft echoes -faded. - -"Banning. Yes ... yes ... all right, right away." - -"What is it?" Colin asked. - -"They've got something from the _Phoenix_ at Control." - -When they reached the radio room again, a different technician was on -shift. He was intently watching an oscilloscope face on the board in -front of him. - -"What happened, did he answer?" the general asked. - -"No, sir. But a few minutes ago we started getting a carrier wave on -his transmission frequency." - -Banning sighed disgustedly. "Is that all? Dammit!" - -"What does that mean?" Colin asked. - -"Not a damned thing," Banning said angrily. "He just threw the -transmission switch, is all." - -"Look, sir." The radioman pointed to the oscilloscope. The smooth -sine of the carrier was slightly modulated now, uneven dips and jogs -appearing rhythmically. "There's something coming through, but it's -awfully damned faint, Sir." - -"Run your sensitivity up," Banning ordered. - -The radioman slowly twisted a knob, and the hiss-and-crackle coming -through the speakers increased in volume until each snap was like a -gunshot in the radio room. Colin winced at the noise. - -"Maximum, sir." - -"Increase your gain, then." - -The technician did. The speakers were roaring now, filling the room. -Very faintly behind the torrent of sound another sound could be -heard, more regular. The rhythm corresponded with the jogging of the -oscilloscope. - -"That's it," Banning said. "But what the hell is it?" - -"I don't--wait a minute," said Colin. "He's whistling! It's a tune." - -"You recognize it?" - -"No--no, it's vaguely familiar, but--" - -"I know it, sir," the radioman said. "It's an old folksong, _The -Quaker's Wooing_." - -"Why is it so faint?" asked Colin. - -"He must be a hell of a ways off-mike," said the tech. "Clear at the -other end of the control room, I'd say." - -"Turn down that damned noise," said Banning. The radioman twisted his -controls back to medium range, and the thunderous hissing roar of the -speakers died away. - -"Well," said Banning, "nothing. We shoulda stood in bed." - -"I'm not so sure," Colin answered. "After all, he _did_ start to -transmit, and that's more than we've had since he landed. I think we'd -better keep it up." - -"All right. Keep at it, sergeant." - -"Yes, sir." - -As Colin and Banning turned away, the psychiatrist heard the sergeant -begin to sing softly to himself. Suddenly Colin stopped and turned back -to the man. - -"What'd you say?" he demanded. - -"Nothing, sir." - -"What you were singing, that song." - -"Oh, it was the one the colonel was whistling, sir. It gets to running -around in your head. I'm sorry, it won't happen again." - -"No, I want to know what the words are. What you just said." - -"Well, it goes, I mean it starts out, I can't remember the whole--" - -"Come _on_, man! Sing it!" - -In an uncertain voice the radioman began to sing: - - "_I had a true wife but I left her, oh, oh, oh, oh. - And now I'm broken hearted, oh, oh, oh, oh. - Well, if she's gone, I wouldn't mind her, - Foldy roldy hey ding di do, - Soon find one--_" - -"That's enough, sergeant," Colin said, relaxing. He turned to Banning. -"Well, General, that's it. The wedge goes in a little deeper." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Is Harkins married?" - -"Yes, yes, I think so. She lives in the officer's quarters on base." - -"Get her," Colin said. - -"Now? My God man, it isn't even five--" - -"Get her," Colin repeated. "Harkins has her on his mind. Maybe we can -get to him through her." - - * * * * * - -Martha Harkins was a small brunette, too plain ever to be called -pretty. Almost mousy, Colin thought. But intelligent, and quick to -understand the situation, in spite of her nervousness. She sat on the -opposite side of Banning's desk, her hands folded quietly in her lap, -fingers twined, while Colin explained what they wanted her to do. Her -still-sleepy eyes were fixed on her fingers while the psychiatrist -talked. - -"I--I think I see," she said hesitantly. "What it comes down to is that -you want me to try to talk Dick out of _Phoenix I_." - -Colin nodded. "It may not be easy. I've told you as much as we know -about the condition of his mind. He will not consciously hear you, in -all likelihood. We hope to appeal to deep-seated emotions below the -conscious level. Are you willing to try?" - -"Of course," she said with real surprise, looking up at him for the -first time. - -"Good," Colin said warmly. He stood from behind the desk. "We'll take -you over to radio, now." - -Banning was waiting for them in Central Control. - -"Any change?" Colin asked. - -"No. Same thing. Sometimes he comes closer to the mike. We can hear -his footsteps. He seems to be wandering around the control room pretty -aimlessly. Or maybe he's just carrying on the in-flight routine, we -can't tell." - -"This is Mrs. Harkins," Colin said. "General Banning." - -"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Harkins," the general said. "I hope this -isn't too difficult for you." He took her small hand in his own. - -Martha Harkins smiled faintly. "A service wife gets used to just about -everything, general." - -"Unfortunately true. If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to your -technician. Has Dr. Meany explained what we want you to do?" - -"Yes, I think so." - -"Good." - -"Just one thing, Mrs. Harkins," Colin put in. "This may take some time. -It may be we'll want you to cut a tape with a request to leave the -ship, if we can't get any response from live voice. Repetition is the -important thing, and the sound of your voice." - -"All right. I'll do whatever you say." She turned away briefly, but not -before Colin saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. - -Banning led her over to the radio console, saw her seated and -instructed in the use of the equipment, and returned to Colin. - -"What do you think?" he said. - -"She'll do." - -"Will it work?" - -"How the hell do I know?" the psychiatrist answered roughly. - -They were silent for a moment, watching the small figure of the woman -leaning forward tensely over the microphone, as if by her nearness she -might make her husband hear. - -"You know," Banning said musingly, "I get the feeling this is all the -fault of SpaServ, somehow. Some little thing we overlooked. A little -more training, maybe." - -The woman's soft voice droned on, not quite carrying distinctly to the -two men, though the warmth and urgency of it was evident in her tone. - -"I think you did all right with your training," Colin said finally. "He -came back, didn't he?" - - -4. - -Harkins slept only lightly, turning restlessly in the large control -chair. Finally the pain of his headache increased to the point he -could no longer sleep at all, even lightly. Just before he wakened, he -thought he heard a sound at once intolerably loud and somehow soothing. -Which was impossible, of course. - -Opening the viewport shutter a crack, he found the land outside lit -ambiguously by the false dawn that was beginning to spread against the -eastern hills. - -He took several more of the white pills for his headache. Briefly he -considered eating something, but abandoned the idea. The pain was so -intense, he didn't think he could keep anything down. - -He found the illusion he had noted yesterday--the whispering sound he -could not hear when he tried--was still there. It was even worse now. - -All about him was the flickering shadow of a sound, demanding his -attention, requesting. And still--when he tried to hear it, it was gone. - -He pressed his knuckles against his forehead and clenched his eyes -tightly shut. - -If only he had something to do to take his mind off the headache and -the elusive sound.... But there was nothing to do. With neither the -Skipdrive nor the atomics operating, he had not even the routine -powerchecks to keep him occupied. - -_Then why am I here?_ - -His function was to operate the ship. That much he knew without doubt. -And he was well suited to operate it. His hands were properly shaped -to manipulate the controls, and he could do it automatically, without -thinking about it. He was Ship-Operator. - -But the ship was not operating.... - -What was his function then, when the ship was not operating? - -The other control devices, when not controlling, automatically shut -off. Perhaps something had gone wrong in his shut-off relay. - -That was not it, either. He was not the same as the other controlling -mechanisms. He was different. Different materials, different potential -functions in his structure, all kinds of differences. - -But even if it were true that he was _not_ intended to switch off when -not functioning as Ship-Operator, what was he to do? - -_Think it out. Think this thing out very carefully._ - -Pain was a signal of improper functioning. All right. He was not -functioning properly, then, and he knew it because of the level of pain -in his head. If he could get rid of the headache, he would at the same -time be finding his proper function. - -Step one, then: Get rid of the headache. And he had to do that anyway, -because he was unable to think clearly while he had it. - -The headache had alleviated several times, then come back again. That -meant he had performed properly, then drifted away into--into--Wrong -was the word that came to his mind. Wrong. He had drifted into improper -functioning, and the word for that was Wrong, and his headache had come -back as a result. - -All right. _When_ had the headache alleviated? - -He tried to think back. The first time, the first time was when he -had found himself speaking the meaningless words into the microphone, -announcing his estimated time-to-destination. And then, when he had -closed the viewports. And throwing that Receive switch.... - -What did these actions have in common? What factor did they share? - -Only one thing. Two, really. First, they had some connection with the -transmit-receive apparatus. Or two of the three did, at any rate. The -other factor, shared by all three acts, was that they were done almost -without his conscious will. - -This, then, might be the critical factor. That he act without volition. - -Relax. Completely. _Allow_ yourself to act. - -He leaned back in the control chair and tried to blank his mind, tried -not to give his body any commands. - -_Without volition, without willing._ - -He closed his eyes. - -For a long while there was nothing. Then he heard the whir of -servomotors. He opened his eyes, delicately probed with his mind ... -and the headache had lessened. - -He glanced up at the console, to see what he had done. A red bulb -glowed over the label AIRLOCK. He had thrown the airlock switch, then. -And it had been the "proper function" for him, because the headache had -lessened. But the out-of-range whispering had not diminished. - -The airlock? He shook his head in puzzlement. But the technique seemed -to be working. What now? - -He closed his eyes again, and this time the delay was shorter. He knew -before he looked what had happened. He had lowered the landing ladder. - -Well, this began to be obvious. He was to leave the ship. - -And yet, the headache had been worst when he _had_ left the ship. -What did that mean? It seemed to mean leaving the ship was a Wrong -function. But it was certainly indicated this time, from his opening of -the airlock and lowering the ladder. - -Well, what was Wrong function at one time might well be Right function -another time. That could happen. - -_Leave the ship...._ - -There was an edge of pleasantness and warmth to that thought, and the -headache diminished. - -"_Please leave the ship, Dick...._" It was almost as if he could hear a -warmth in the air saying that to him. - -Try the alternative. Deliberately he thought: _Stay in the ship_. - -A flash of pain soared up the back of his head and across the top to -settle swirling and agonizingly in his temples. - -_Leave the ship_, he thought quickly, and the pain abated. - -Clear enough. - -He got to his feet and carefully made his way out of the control room -down the catwalk toward the airlock that stood open and waiting to let -him out of _Phoenix I_.... - - * * * * * - -An excited non-com slammed open the door to the radio room and shouted, -"The airlock's opening!" - -Banning and Colin dashed to the broad window and stared out at the -bulky shape of _Phoenix I_, resting monolithic on the landing pad. -Banning took the proffered binoculars from the non-com, focussed them -on the broad flank of the ship. - -"It's open, all right," he said. "Here." He handed the binoculars to -Colin. - -After a long delay, the landing ladder slid down the side of the ship. - -"I think he's going to come out." - -"There he is." - -"What's he doing?" - -"Standing in the airlock, looking around. Now he's starting to come -down. Now he's at the bottom of the ladder, looking around again.... -Now he's walking this way." - -"Give me the glasses," Banning said. He looked for a long moment, -making sure the colonel's direction did not change. "Still coming -this way," he said, putting the glasses carefully on the table by the -window. He turned to look at the psychiatrist. "What now?" - -Colin shrugged. "Get him." - -"Sergeant!" Banning called. "Sergeant, take five men...." - - * * * * * - -The room in which they put him was comfortable and secure. Very secure. -The bed was firmly welded to the wall, the table bolted to the floor. -There was nothing movable or detachable in the room. - -The three microphones picked up little but the shuffle of feet; cameras -dutifully imprinted on film the image of a man pacing restlessly back -and forth, examining the fixtures of the room without apparent anxiety -or curiosity. - -"No trouble at all," Banning answered Colin's question. "He didn't even -see the patrol. Spray shot of Somnol in the arm and that was it." - -"He doesn't seem particularly upset," Colin mused, watching the screen -on which the lean figure of Colonel Harkins paced. - -"Nervous," Banning said. - -"Not as badly as the situation would warrant. I don't think it's -getting through to him. He's apathetic." - -"How did he react to seeing his wife?" Banning asked. - -"Bewildered him. Gave him a hell of a headache." - -"That all?" - -"That's all." - -"What now?" - -Colin sighed. "Get through to him some way." He tamped tobacco in his -pipe, his eyes still on the spyscreen. Harkins was now sitting on the -bed, his hands immobile on his knees, staring straight ahead. - -"How do you intend to do that?" - -Colin reached for a pad of paper and began scribbling, talking as he -wrote. "How are you feeding him?" - -"Double door compartment. Put the food in, close the outside door, open -the inside." - -"Put this on his tray next time, will you?" Colin handed the general a -slip of paper. On it was written a single sentence: _Richard Harkins, I -want to talk to you._ - -"All right," Banning said, reading it. "He's due for lunch in about an -hour." - - * * * * * - -On the screen, Colin could see the light come on over the food -compartment, and the microphones picked up the sound of a bell. -Harkins, who had not moved from the bed since his initial examination -of the cubicle, looked up. The inner door of the compartment opened, -revealing a tray with several steaming dishes, a pitcher of milk and a -pot of coffee on a self-warm pad. - -Harkins stood up. He looked at the food, walked over to the tiny open -door and picked up the tray. Calmly he carried it over to the table, -sat down, unfolded the napkin and put it in his lap. - -"My God," Banning whispered, "you'd think he'd eaten this way all his -life." - -"Apathetic," Colin said shortly. "He refuses to admit anything unusual." - -"How the hell could he rationalize losing consciousness and waking up -in a windowless room?" - -Colin shrugged. "Brain's a funny thing," was his only comment. His eyes -were fixed intently on the screen. Suddenly Harkins noticed the slip of -paper tucked under the corner of one of the dishes. - -Colin leaned forward, took his pipe out of his mouth. - -Harkins withdrew the paper and looked at it. Even on the screen, Colin -could see the writing, almost make out the words. - -Harkins stared briefly at the paper, turned it over and looked at the -other side in puzzlement. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. - -Finally he gave a little shrug, put the message back on the tray and -resumed eating. - -Colin sat heavily back in his chair. He sighed. - -"He didn't even see it," Banning said disgustedly. - -"He saw the paper, not the message." - -"Why?" - -"Personal communication. It implies the existence of another -communicating--entity. He won't admit it." Colin re-lit his pipe. - -"Ah, hell!" - -"I guess we'll have to take the direct approach," Colin said -thoughtfully. - - * * * * * - -He lay relaxed on the bed in the little room, his eyes closed, his -face calm and quiet. Pulse normal, temperature normal. Above and in -the walls recorders and cameras purred almost silently with the bland -indifference of omniscience. - -_Harkins._ - -_Yes._ - -_Can you hear me?_ - -... _no_ ... The strain of the question twisted the man's face into a -grimace of pain. - -Pause. Then: - -_You are Richard Harkins._ - -_Yes._ - -_Colonel...._ - -_Yes._ - -_Can you hear me?_ - -_I.... No._ Anxious contortion. _All right. It's all right._ - -The man's face returned to relaxation. - -_How old are you?_ - -_Thirty-two._ - -_Have you always been thirty-two?_ - -... - -_Have you always been thirty-two?_ - -... _no_ ... Hesitantly. - -_You were once younger._ - -_Yes._ - -_You were once a child and grew to be a young man and grew to be -thirty-two._ - -... _yes_ ... - -_Why do you hesitate?_ - -_I don't understand all the words you say._ - -_What words don't you understand?_ - -_Well--Man._ The expression of pain and anxiety flitted across his -relaxed features. - -_I will explain the words later. Don't worry about them now._ - -_All right._ - -_Richard Harkins, we are going to move back to a time when you were -nineteen. You are nineteen years old. You are nineteen._ - -_How old are you?_ - -_Nineteen._ - -_What are you doing?_ - -_I--I'm a cadet, I--_ - -_What kind of cadet?_ - -... _SpaServ_ ... - -_All right, now we'll move ahead two years. You are twenty-one years -old. Twenty-one. How old are you?_ - - * * * * * - -Gradually Colin brought Harkins forward in time, carefully, feeling -his way gingerly along the dark corridors of his mind. He brought him -through cadets, graduation, his marriage to Martha (touchy: gently, -gently)--his service in the planetary fleet. - -Then: a mysterious phrase; rumors--Phoenix Project. - ---_nobody seems to know. Something secret, but no telling. -Everything's secret this year. Testing officers right and left and up -and down. But nobody knows what for...._ - -... _card waiting for me at breakfast_ ... - -Months of testing. Still nobody knows, but the rumors are running fast -and heavy. Whole base preoccupied with the misty Phoenix Project. -Secret construction hangar, security precautions to the point of -absurdity.... - -... _I'm it!_ ... - -... _it's faster-than-light drive, that's what Phoenix Project is. -Faster-than-light. The big dream, the dream of the stars_ ... - -Training. Slower through the two years of intensive training. This -may be a critical phase. Two years, endless repetitive drill, drill -practice drill drill drill.... Colin's forehead feels cool as he sits -beside the bed. Perspiration. A glance at his watch shows him two hours -since they began. - -_How did you take to this intensive training?_ - -_All right. It was all right. Dull, you know, but it was all right -generally. After the first year it was pretty automatic. Conditioned -response, I didn't have to think. If and when such and such happens, -press this button, throw that switch. Automatic._ - -Automatic, Colin thought. That's why he came back then. Without -volition, responding to given signals according to training. - -... _walking toward the ship. She's big and bulky, but we're friends by -now. Now I'm climbing the ladder up to the lock_ ... - -... _listening to the count down ... two ... one ... fire!_ ... - -Harkins grunted as the re-lived acceleration slammed him back in the -control chair with a relentless and unabating pressure. He was silent -for thirty seconds. - -... _blacked out, not long. Report in to Gila Base, launching -successful. They acknowledge, give me course. I'm moving "up", at right -angles to the plane of the ecliptic. Fastest way to get away from large -mass bodies_ ... - -Time then on atomic rockets, almost a full day. Colin brushed over this -phase, which was routine. As far as he could tell, Harkins' duties had -been designed principally to keep him from getting bored before it was -time to cut in the Skipdrive, and this corresponded with what General -Banning had told him. - -As he approached the time of the Skip, he moved more slowly, taking in -detail. - -... _three minute bell. The bell is a pretty sound. I am checking the -controls again. Everything is fine. I am sitting down in the control -chair with my hands relaxed over the ends of the arms. When my fingers -brush against the buttons, they tingle, or seem to. We're all ready. -There's the two minute bell_ ... - -Pause. - -_One minute bell_ ... - -Suddenly Harkins sat stiffly upright on the bed. His eyes snapped open, -staring with fear and disbelief at something Colin could not see. - -_Oh, my God_, he whispered. - -_What is it?_ - -But there was no direct answer. Harkins repeated: - -_Oh, my God, my God, my God_ ... - -_What do you see? What is there?_ - -_Oh Jesus the stars the stars the stars God in heaven I can't Jesus -make them go make them go make them go_ ... - -His voice had risen almost to a scream, his eyes open wide and staring, -his body rigid. - -With a whimper, he clenched his eyes shut and fell back on the bed. He -drew his knees slowly and jerkily up to his chest, as if resisting the -movement, clasped his arms around his legs tightly. - -He began to rock back and forth, gently, gently, as if immersed in -water, his breath making an involuntary whining sound as it passed his -constricted throat. - -_Move forward in time. Move ahead. You are coming out of the Skip. You -are coming out of the Skip. You are returning to normal space._ - -Colin's voice was steady and calm over the high-pitched whines coming -from the throat of the man on the bed. Suddenly his face relaxed. The -eyes remained closed, but closed as if in sleep, rather than anguish. -His arms and shoulder released their clenched grip around his knees. - -Evenly, smoothly, his legs straightened on the bed, his feet digging -into the covers and pushing them into a roll at the bottom. He finally -lay as he had begun, stretched straight with his hands beside his -thighs and his face relaxed. When he spoke, it was in a normal, almost -conversational tone. - -... _belled out. I like the sound of that bell, it is relaxing. It's -a good signal and I'm glad it happens that way. I stand up from the -control chair and stretch. I have the strong notion something very -pleasant has happened._ - -_How do you feel? Do you feel strange?_ - -_No, I feel fine. Everything is fine. I check the instruments, and -they show that a Skip has been completed. That's good. I don't--I -don't--somehow I can't remember why I wanted to_ ... - -His voice broke off, puzzled. Colin waited, and in a minute Harkins -began to speak again. - -... _hear the sound of the Skipdrive. It comforts me. Funny, I don't -remember ever hearing it before_ ... - -_Go back before. Go back. You hear the one minute bell. You can hear -the one minute bell and you are ready to make your Skip. You are -getting ready to make your Skip._ - -Harkins snapped upright again and repeated his actions. He shouted and -screamed, his body was forced into the foetal position jerkily.... - -_OH GOD THE STARS THE STARS THE STARS_ - -Whimpering. - -_Go forward. You are returning to normal space...._ - -_I feel fine, everything is fine. I check the instruments_ ... - -_Go back...._ - -There was no lessening. - -Colin's shirt was slick on his body with sweat, his face looked old, -older, his breath came in almost imperceptible quaverings, but his -voice remained calm and assured, in violent and distinct contrast to -the strain that showed plainly as age in his face-- - -_Move ahead...._ - -_Move back...._ - -Twenty-three minutes later, Colin closed his eyes and said: - -_In ten minutes from this time you will waken feeling refreshed and -relaxed, as after a good sleep. You will be alert and fresh when you -waken. You will feel as if you have just had a pleasant nap. You will -remember nothing of what has happened while you were asleep, but you -will feel fresh and relaxed when you waken ten minutes from this time._ - -He finished the waking-formula mechanically and left the little room. -He walked slowly and deliberately to his quarters on the base, as -though holding himself rigidly in control. He did not answer Banning's -excited questions except to say, "I can't talk about it now." - -Reaching his room he fell full length on the bed and was asleep nearly -before the swaying of the bed had quieted. - - -5. - -Several hours later he was again in General Banning's office. - -"Look," Banning said, "I'm sorry to press this, and I know you took a -hell of a beating in there. But we've got to know." - -Colin nodded morosely. "I know. I'm sorry about the delay." - -"You looked more dead than alive when you came out." - -"I'm afraid I'm too long on empathy and too short on objectivity to -fool with that kind of thing. One of the reasons I don't often trigger -these big discharges in my own practice. I get--inside, I guess, -somehow. No detachment, or not enough." - -"What was there? Inside, if that's the way you want to put it." - -Colin sighed, absently pulled his pipe from his jacket pocket. -"Specifically, I don't think I can tell you. He saw--or experienced -as seeing--something when he went into the Skip. It was something so -damned big it stripped him of his orientation as a human being." - -"The films show him assuming a foetal position. That what you mean?" - -"Well--basically this kind of regression is a denial of responsibility. -'I'm not a man,' he says. 'I'm just an unborn child. Take care of me.' -The individual wants no part of the problems and responsibilities of -adulthood. Harkins came out of that, or he never could have got the -ship back. But he couldn't face being a man. The only way he could -carry out his responsibilities, and survive, was to abolish the -category, man." - -Colin leaned back and sighed. "You know," he said thoughtfully, -"Harkins must be the loneliest human being that ever lived. God!" - -After a moment he looked up. "Ever read any Emerson?" - -"The philosopher Emerson? No, not much. Some maybe, when I was in -college. Why?" - -"Nothing in particular. I was just thinking of an essay of his on -Nature." - -"No, haven't read it. Well," he continued, standing, "where do we go -from here?" - -"More of the same, I'm afraid. We have to find out what he saw. What -was so--immense, that it could make a man deny the existence of other -men." - - * * * * * - -Night came to Gila Base IV; the second night after the _Phoenix I_'s -landing. Darkness climbed out of the eastern hills and spread itself -upward into the sky and across the plane of the desert. _Phoenix I_ -was still on the landing pad, but its sides were hidden by a webwork -of gantries and scaffolding as base technicians clambered over it, -testing, checking, examining. - -Colin insisted on leaving the base, making the twenty-mile drive into -town and his home. Banning was too tired to argue about it. He gave the -psychiatrist a security gate-pass and went to bed in his own office. - -Colin's car buzzed down the wide concrete toward the little cluster of -lights that marked Gila City. He slowed when he reached the outskirts, -watching the blue glare of the overhead sodium lamps slide along the -hood and up over the windshield. - -Reaching his apartment, he flicked on the lights and went in. It was a -single room, two walls covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases; there -was a desk, one overstuffed chair. Automatically his eyes swept the -room with the questioning glance of a man returning home; they lingered -apprehensively on the neat stack of unopened mail the cleaning woman -had put on the exact corner of the desk. He sighed. No matter how -preoccupied a man got, the rest of the world went on just the same. - -He went into the little kitchenette and made himself a cup of instant -coffee, returned to the main room stirring it absently. He seated -himself heavily in the overstuffed chair. - -Struck by a sudden thought, he put the coffee down on the edge of his -desk and went over to one book-wall. He scanned the multi-colored -spines until he found the thin paperback he was looking for. He took it -down and went back to the chair. "Nature," the cover said, "by Ralph -Waldo Emerson." - -Laying the little pamphlet open in his lap, he pulled pipe and tobacco -out of his jacket pocket, tamped the bowl full and lit it. He shifted -himself easily in the chair, settling himself. - -_Our Age is retrospective_, the introduction began. _It builds the -sepulchers of the fathers...._ - -He read on, gliding over the familiar words with a pleasant sense of -acquaintanceship, the sense of sharing an idea with a respected friend. - -_To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as -from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody -is with me._ - -The next line of the essay made him sit up straight in the chair. He -read it over twice, then closed the pamphlet and carefully put it back -in the bookcase with a vague feeling of having been either betrayed or -helped, he couldn't tell which. - -As he was turning out the lights to go to bed, his com buzzed. -Answering it, he recognized the voice of Banning's secretary. - -"Mr. Meany, can you get back to the base right away? Something's -happened." - -"What is it?" Colin snapped. - -"The Colonel has gotten back into _Phoenix I_." - - * * * * * - -"... understand exactly _how_ it happened," Banning said. "He seemed to -be sleeping peacefully, and one of the men went in the room to take out -his garbage, for Christ's sake. When the door opened, he made a dash -for it." - -The two men stood in the control room before the wide window-wall -looking out on the landing pad. _Phoenix I_, still surrounded by -scaffolding, was brightly lit in the glaring beams of a dozen -searchlights playing from the Gila Base buildings and trucks on the -field. - -"Can he take it off?" Colin asked. - -"I don't think so," Banning said. "Sergeant, is there fuel in those -tanks?" - -"Yes, sir," said one of the men in the group that crowded in front of -the window. "But the feed valve is off. It can't get into the firing -chambers." - -"What would happen if he tried?" Colin asked. - -"Nothing," Banning said. "It wouldn't fire. Unless--unless he didn't -pay any attention to the board, and left his hotpoints on after he saw -it wouldn't fire." - -"What are hotpoints?" - -"The ignition elements. They'd melt down under continuous heating -and--well, then we wouldn't have any more problem. The tanks would go." - -"You'd better clear the field," Colin said quietly after a minute. -"Sergeant," he said to the radioman, "would you give the _Phoenix_ a -'message coming' beep?" - -The radioman did, then said to Colin, "Go ahead." - -"Is he receiving?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Colonel Harkins," Colin said. "Colonel Harkins, can you hear me?" - -The loudspeakers buzzed. - -"Colonel Harkins, please reply." - -The speakers snapped once. The sound of Harkins' whistle came over, -loud at first, then drifting away. He was whistling the same tune as -before. - -"... _had a true wife but I left her, oh, oh, oh, oh_ ..." - -"Do you want her back again?" Banning asked, recognizing the melody. - -"Colonel Harkins, please reply," Colin said. Switching the mike off, -he turned to Banning. "Better get her," he said. "We may have to go -through the whole thing again." - - * * * * * - -It took twelve minutes by the control clock before they heard the door -of the room open, and the light tapping of Martha Harkins' feet. -Banning and Colin turned away from the window to greet her. - -Suddenly their shadows were thrown violently ahead of them, leaping -across the floor and up the opposite wall like frightened animals -trying to escape. - -They swung back to the window, their words of greeting still unspoken. -For perhaps a half second they could make out the upper part of -_Phoenix I_, standing above the ugly glare like the nose of a whale -thrusting up through a sea of boiling flame. Then it disappeared, and -the fire-ball climbed suddenly into the night sky, rolling and twisting -in on itself. A gantry tipped and fell out of the flame with ponderous -slowness, twisted and melted before it crashed to the pad. Then the -unbearable glare died, and the searchlights played on an opaque black -column of smoke, redly lit from within, standing where _Phoenix I_ had -stood. - -The roar that shook the building seemed to come much too late. - - * * * * * - -Colin slumped disconsolately in the control room, staring blankly out -at the clusters of beetle-like trucks clustered around the landing -pad, with their feathery antennae caressing the stack of still-burning -wreckage. Washed down by the foam trucks, the fire would soon be out. -But there would be little advantage to it, except to clear the pad. - -"How's Mrs. Harkins?" he asked without turning as he heard footsteps -behind him. - -"Under sedation," General Banning said. He came to stand beside -the psychiatrist, looked with him at the firecrew's activity, so -disorganized and insect-like at a distance. - -"They'll have it out pretty soon," he said unnecessarily. - -"Mm." - -Both men were silent. After a while, Colin tamped in fresh tobacco and -lit his pipe, sending up cottony puffs of smoke. - -"What do we do now?" he said absently. - -General Banning sighed. - -"See that hangar?" he asked, gesturing to a tall building perhaps a -quarter mile away down the edge of the field. - -Colin nodded. - -"_Phoenix II_," the General said, and his voice was flat and -expressionless. - -"Send another man into it, knowing no more than we know?" - -"We have to know," Banning said. "Men have died before without as good -reason." - -"I'm going home. Call me if you need me." - -Colin stood, and the general made a silent gesture of helplessness. -They wouldn't need him. Not until _Phoenix II_ came home. Then they -would need him. - -Colin spoke, quietly, as if thinking of something else. - -"I didn't hear you," Banning said. - -"Quoting Emerson. The essay on Nature I mentioned." - -"What did he say?" - -"'But if a man would be alone,'" Colin quoted, "'let him look at the -stars.' Good night, General." - -"Good night." - -Colin walked outside into the cold desert air. The night was clear and -crisp, and the Milky Way hurled itself like a mass of vapor across the -sky. - -... _if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars_ ... - -He looked up, and was alone in the night. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man Alone, by Don Berry - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN ALONE *** - -***** This file should be named 60591-8.txt or 60591-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/5/9/60591/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/60591-8.zip b/old/60591-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b95d97c..0000000 --- a/old/60591-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60591-h.zip b/old/60591-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1f2e274..0000000 --- a/old/60591-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60591-h/60591-h.htm b/old/60591-h/60591-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3cd1249..0000000 --- a/old/60591-h/60591-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2351 +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 Man Alone, by Don Berry. - </title> - <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; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - -.poetry .stanza -{ - margin: 1em auto; -} - -.poetry .verse -{ - padding-left: 3em; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Man Alone, by Don Berry - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Man Alone - -Author: Don Berry - -Release Date: October 29, 2019 [EBook #60591] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN ALONE *** - - - - -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="349" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p class="ph1"><i>The ship went out safely, came back<br /> -safely. The pilot was unaware of anything<br /> -wrong. Somewhere in the depths of his brain<br /> -was locked the secret that made him</i></p> - -<h1>MAN ALONE</h1> - -<h2>BY DON BERRY</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1958.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><i>Phoenix I</i> belled out smoothly in the region of a G-type star. There -was a bright flare as a few random hydrogen atoms were destroyed by the -ship's sudden appearance. One moment space had been empty except for -the few drifting atoms, and the next—the ship was there, squat and -ugly.</p> - -<p>Inside, a bell chimed sweetly, signalling the return to a universe of -mass and gravitation and a limiting velocity called C. Colonel Richard -Harkins glanced briefly out his forward port, and saw no more than he -had expected to see.</p> - -<p>At this distance the G-type star was no brighter or yellower than many -another he had seen. For a man it might have been hard to tell which -star it was. But the ship knew.</p> - -<p>Within one of the ungainly bulges that sprouted along the length of -<i>Phoenix I</i>, a score of instruments mindlessly swung to focus their -receptors on the nearest body of star-mass.</p> - -<p>Harkins leaned contentedly back in the padded control seat and watched -while the needles gradually found their final position on dials. A few -scattered lights bloomed on the console ahead of him. He grunted once -with satisfaction as the thermoneedle steadied at 6,000° C. After that -he was silent.</p> - -<p>He leaned forward and flipped up two switches, and a faint sound of -a woodpecker came into the control room as the spectrograph punched -its data on a tape. The end of the tape began to come out of a slot. -Harkins tore it off when the spectrograph was finished with it, -threaded it on the feeder spool of the ship's calculator, and inserted -the free end in the input slot.</p> - -<p>The calculator blinked once at him, as if surprised, and spat out a -little card with the single word SOL neatly printed in the center.</p> - -<p>Harkins whistled softly to himself, happily. <i>I had a true wife but I -left her</i>, he whistled. Old song. Old when he first heard it. <i>Had a -true....</i></p> - -<p>He wondered vaguely what a "wife" was, but decided it probably didn't -matter. <i>Had a true wife but I left her</i>, he whistled.</p> - -<p>He was glad to be home.</p> - -<p>The direction finder gave him a fix on Earth and he tried to isolate -the unimportant star from the others in the same general direction, but -he couldn't do it, visually. The ship would do it, though, he wasn't -worried about that. He wished he could use the Skipdrive to get a -little closer. It would take a long time to get in close on the atomic -rockets. Several days, maybe.</p> - -<p>Well, he had to do it. The Skipdrive wasn't dependable in mass-space. -You couldn't tell what it was going to do when you got it too close to -a large mass. He'd have to go in on the chemical.</p> - -<p><i>Mass-space</i>, he thought. <i>Molasses-space, I call it.</i></p> - -<p>Too slow, everything too slow, that was the trouble.</p> - -<p>Reluctantly he switched off the Skipdrive's complacent purr. The sudden -lack of noise in the cabin made him squint his eyes, and he thought he -was going to get a headache for some reason. Abruptly, all the cabin -furniture seemed very harsh and angular, distorted in some strange way -so as to be distinctly irritating to him. He brushed his foot across -the deck and the sound of his boot was rasping and annoying.</p> - -<p>He didn't like this space much. It wasn't soft, it wasn't restful, it -was all full of clutter and junk. He grimaced with distaste at the -suddenly ugly console.</p> - -<p>He looked down at the floor, frowning, pinching his nose between thumb -and forefinger, flirting with the idea of turning the drive back on.</p> - -<p>But for some reason he couldn't quite think of at the moment, he -couldn't do that. He frowned more severely, but it didn't help; he -still couldn't think of the reason he couldn't do it. That headache was -coming on strong, now. He'd have to take something for it.</p> - -<p><i>Well, well</i>, he thought resignedly. <i>Home again, home again.</i></p> - -<p>He was sure he was glad to be home.</p> - -<p><i>Home is the hunter, home from something something....</i></p> - -<p>He couldn't remember any of the rest. What the hell was a hunter, -anyway? They irritated him, these nonsense songs. He didn't know why he -kept thinking about them. Hunters and wifes. Nonsense. Babble.</p> - -<p>He keyed the directional instruments into the course-control and armed -the starting charge for the chemical motors. When he had checked -everything carefully, as he had been taught, he strapped himself into -the control chair with his hand on the arm-rest over the firing button. -He knew it was going to hurt him.</p> - -<p>He fired, and it did hurt him, the sense of explosive pressure, the -abrupt thundering vibration. It was not the same as the soft, enfolding -purr of the Skipdrive, comforting, assuring, loving....</p> - -<p><i>What's that? Loving?</i></p> - -<p><i>A wife is a Martha</i>, he thought. <i>A Martha is a wife.</i></p> - -<p>It seemed to mean something, but he didn't have time to decipher it -before he passed out.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When he came to he immediately switched off the chemical drive. It had -given him a good shove in the right direction, and that was all that -was necessary. He would coast in now, and he had to save his fuel for -maneuvering in atmosphere.</p> - -<p>After that, he rested, trying to accustom himself to the harshness of -things in mass-space.</p> - -<p>His time-to-destination indicator gave him ten hours, when he began to -feel uneasy. He couldn't pin-point the source of unease at first. He -was fidgety, impatient. Or something that resembled those feelings. It -was like when he couldn't remember why he wasn't supposed to turn the -Skipdrive back on. It occurred to him that he wasn't thinking clearly, -somehow.</p> - -<p>He noticed to his surprise he had switched on his transmitter. Probably -while he was drumming his fingers or something. He switched it off.</p> - -<p>Thirty minutes later he found himself toying with the same switch. He -had turned it on again. This was getting ridiculous. He shouldn't be so -nervous.</p> - -<p>He grinned wryly to himself. The transmitter switch, indeed. If ever -a useless piece of junk had been put in <i>Phoenix I</i>, that was it. -Transmitter switch!</p> - -<p>He laughed aloud. And left the switch open.</p> - -<p>He found himself staring with fascination at the microphone. It was -pretty interesting, he had to admit that. It was mounted on the back -of the control chair, on swivel arms. It could easily be pulled into -position right in front of his face. Just as if it had been meant to. -He fiddled with it interestedly, swinging it back and forth, seeing how -it moved on the swivel arms.</p> - -<p>He was interested in the way it moved so smoothly, that was all. By -coincidence, when he let go of it, it was directly in front of him.</p> - -<p>There was something picking at him, something was nagging at the back -of his mind. He whistled under his breath and knuckled his eyes. He -scrubbed at the top of his head with his right hand, as if he could rub -the annoying thought. Suddenly he heard his own voice saying:</p> - -<p>"Earth Control, this is <i>Phoenix I</i>. Come in please."</p> - -<p>He looked up, startled. Now why would he say a thing like that?</p> - -<p>And then, in the midst of his surprise, he repeated it!</p> - -<p>"Earth Control, this is <i>Phoenix I</i>. Come in please."</p> - -<p>He flipped the Receive switch without volition. His hands had suddenly -developed a life of their own. He began to breathe more rapidly, and -his forehead felt cool. He swallowed twice, quickly.</p> - -<p>There was no answer on the receiver.</p> - -<p><i>No what? Answer? What is "answer"?</i></p> - -<p>"Estimate arrival four hundred seventy-two minutes," he said loudly, -looking at the time-to-destination indicator.</p> - -<p>There was a sudden flood of relief, washing away the irritation that -had been picking away at the back of his mind. He felt at ease again. -He turned off both transmitter and receiver and stood out of the -control chair. He felt better now, but he was a little worried about -what had happened.</p> - -<p>He couldn't understand it. Suddenly he had lost control of himself, -of his voice and his hands. He was doing meaningless things, saying -things, making motions stupidly. Every movement he made, every act, was -without pattern or sense.</p> - -<p>He had a sudden thought, and it made his whole body grow cold and -prickly, and he almost choked.</p> - -<p><i>Maybe I'm going Nova.</i></p> - -<p>He was near the edge of panic for a minute. <i>Nova Nova Nova Nova.</i></p> - -<p>Brightly flaring, burning out, lighting space around for billions of -light years....</p> - -<p>That was how it started, he knew. Unpredictability, variation without -explanation.... He sat back down in the control chair, feeling shaky -and weak and frightened.</p> - -<p>By the time he had regained his balance, time-to-destination told him -453 minutes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He guided <i>Phoenix I</i> into an orbit around Earth. He circled three -times, braking steadily with his forward rockets until he entered -atmosphere.</p> - -<p>On his fifth pass he spotted his landing place. How he knew, he didn't -quite understand, but he knew it when he saw it. There was a sense of -satisfaction somewhere in him that told him, "That's it. That's the -right place."</p> - -<p>Each succeeding pass was lower and slower, until finally he was -maneuvering the ungainly bulk of the ship like a plane, wholly in -atmosphere.</p> - -<p><i>Like a what?</i></p> - -<p>But he was too busy to worry about it. Fighting the <i>Phoenix I</i> down in -atmosphere required all his attention. Absently he noted the amazingly -regular formations of rock surrounding his landing place.</p> - -<p>His hands flew over the console automatically, a skilled performer -playing a well-learned fugue without conscious attention to detail. -The overall pattern was clear in his mind, and he knew with absolute -confidence he could depend on his hands to take care of the necessary -small motions that went to make up the large pattern.</p> - -<p>He did not think: Upper left button third from end right bank rockets -three-quarters correct deviation.</p> - -<p>He thought: <i>Straight</i>. And his hand darted out.</p> - -<p>The ground was near below him, now. He could see parts of the landscape -through the port, wavering uncertainly in the heat waves from his -landing blast.</p> - -<p>Slower ... slower ... slower.... The roar was reflected loud off the -flat below....</p> - -<p>Touch.</p> - -<p><i>Perfect</i>, he thought happily. <i>Perfect perfect perfect.</i></p> - -<p>He leaned contentedly back in the control chair and watched the needles -of the console gauges fall lifeless back to the pins.</p> - -<p>He whistled a little tune under his breath and smiled.</p> - -<p><i>Now what?</i></p> - -<p>Get out.</p> - -<p>He couldn't think of the reason for it, but he would do it. While he -waited for the hull to cool, he dropped the exit ladder, listened to -the whine of the servomotors.</p> - -<p>He opened the port and stood at the edge, looking out. His headache had -come back again, worse than ever, and he grimaced at the sudden pain.</p> - -<p>Before him stretched the flat black plane of the landing pad, ending -abruptly in the regular formations he had noted before. They were -mostly white, and contrasted strongly with the black of the pad. They -weren't, he realized, rock formations at all, they were—</p> - -<p>They were—buildings, they—</p> - -<p>His mind shied away from the thought.</p> - -<p>It was silent. His headache seemed to be affecting his vision, somehow. -Either that or the landing pad wasn't cool yet. When he looked toward -the—toward the white formations at the edge of the pad, they seemed to -waver slightly near the ground. Heat waves still, he decided.</p> - -<p>Nimbly, and with a pleasant sense of being home again, he scrambled -down the ladder and stood on the ground, tiny beneath the clumsy shape -of <i>Phoenix I</i>.</p> - -<p>About halfway between the edge of the pad and his ship stood a tiny -cluster of thin, upright poles. From their bases he could see black, -snakelike cables twisting off toward the edge, shifting in his -uncertain vision. He walked toward them.</p> - -<p>The silence was so complete it was unnatural. It was almost as if his -ears were plugged, rather than the simple absence of sound. Well, he -supposed that was natural, after all. He had lived with the buzzing -purr of the Skipdrive and the thunder of the rockets so long, any -silence would seem abnormal.</p> - -<p>As he drew closer to the upright rods, he saw each one was topped with -a bulge, a vaguely familiar....</p> - -<p>They were microphones! They were just like the microphone in <i>Phoenix -I</i>, the one he had fooled with.</p> - -<p>He was sincerely puzzled. All that transmit-receive gadgetry in the -ship had been foolish, but what was he to think of finding it here on -his landing pad? It didn't make any sense. He was getting the uneasy -sense of confusion again. The headache was becoming almost unbearable.</p> - -<p>He walked over to the cluster of microphones. That was probably the -place to start. He took the neck of one in his hand and pulled it, but -it didn't move smoothly, as the one on his control chair had. It simply -tipped awkwardly toward him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he felt something on his shoulder, and looked around quickly, -but could see nothing. The pressure on his shoulder remained, and he -vaguely brushed at it with his hand. It went away.</p> - -<p>He set the microphone back upright and looked back at his ship. There -was another pressure on his opposite shoulder, sudden and harder than -the first had been. He slapped at it, and stepped back, uncertainly.</p> - -<p>One of the microphones tipped toward him, but he hadn't touched it. He -took another step backwards, and felt something close tightly around -his left arm. He snapped his head to the left, but there was nothing -there.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="650" height="248" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He twisted sharply away to the right, and the motion freed him, but -his shoulder hit something solid. He gasped, and his throat tightened -again. He raised his hand to his head. The headache was getting worse -all the time.</p> - -<p>Something touched him on the back.</p> - -<p>He spun, crouching.</p> - -<p>Nothing.</p> - -<p>He stood straight again, his eyes wide, panting from the fear that was -beginning to choke him. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried -to puzzle out what was happening to him.</p> - -<p>The air closed abruptly around both arms simultaneously, gripping so -tightly it hurt.</p> - -<p>He shouted and twisted loose and started to run back toward the ship. -He stumbled against an invisible something, fell against another, but -it kept him upright and prevented his falling. Several times as he -ran, things he could not see brushed him, touched him on the shoulders -and back.</p> - -<p>By the time he scrambled up the ladder, his breath was short, and -coming in little whimpers. The headache was the greatest pain he -thought he could ever have known, and he wondered if he were dying.</p> - -<p>He had to kick at invisible things that clutched at his feet on the -ladder, and when he reached the edge of the port he stood kicking and -flailing at nothing until he was certain none of the—creatures, things -were there.</p> - -<p>He shut the port swiftly and ran breathlessly up to the control room. -He threw himself into the padded chair.</p> - -<p>Finally he lowered his head into his hands and began to weep.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">2.</p> - -<p>Night.</p> - -<p>The land turned gray and silver and white under the chill light of -the rising moon. The buildings of Gila Lake Base IV were sharp and -distinct, glowing faintly in the moonlight as if lit somehow inside the -concrete walls.</p> - -<p>On the landing pad, <i>Phoenix I</i> squatted darkly, clumsily. The moon -washed its bulbous flanks with cascading light that flowed down the -long surfaces of the hull and disappeared into the absorbent blackness -without trace. Tiny prickling reflections of stars glinted from the -once-polished metal.</p> - -<p>At the edges of the Base, where wire meshes stretched up out of the -desert dividing the things of the desert from the things of men, -nervous patrols paced forlornly in the night.</p> - -<p>One of the blockhouses at the inner edge of the landing area presented -two yellow rectangles of windows to the night. Inside the blockhouse -were two men, talking.</p> - -<p>One of the men was in uniform, and his collar held the discreet -star-and-comet of a staff officer, SpaServ. He was young for his rank, -perhaps in his early forties, with gray eyes that now were harried. He -sat on the edge of his desk regarding the other man.</p> - -<p>The second of the two was a civilian. He was slumped in an oddly -incongruous overstuffed chair, with his legs stretched out straight -before him. He held the bowl of an unlit pipe in both hands and sucked -morosely on the stem as the SpaServ brigadier talked. He was slightly -younger than the other, but his hair was beginning to thin at the -temples. He had sharp blue eyes that regarded the tips of his shoes -without apparent interest. Colin Meany was his name, and he was a -psychiatrist.</p> - -<p>Finally General Banning finished his account of the afternoon, raised -his hands in a shrug, and said, "That's it. That's all we have."</p> - -<p>Colin Meany took his pipe out of his mouth and regarded the -tooth-marked bit curiously. He shoved it in his coat pocket and walked -over to the window, looking out across the moon-flooded flat to the -looming, ominous shape of <i>Phoenix I</i>. He stood with his hands clasped -behind him, rocking gently back and forth on his toes.</p> - -<p>"Ugly thing," he said casually.</p> - -<p>Banning shrugged. The psychiatrist turned away from the window and sat -down again. He began to fill his pipe.</p> - -<p>"Where is he now?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"In the ship," the general told him.</p> - -<p>"What's he doing?"</p> - -<p>Banning laughed bitterly. "Broadcasting a distress signal."</p> - -<p>"Voice?"</p> - -<p>"Does it matter?" the general asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"No, it's code. It's an automatic tape. The kind all passenger vessels -carry."</p> - -<p>Colin considered this for a moment. "And he didn't say anything."</p> - -<p>"Absolutely nothing," said General Banning. "He got out of the ship, -walked over to the reception committee, slapped a few people and ran -back to the ship and locked himself in."</p> - -<p>"It doesn't make any sense."</p> - -<p>"You're telling me?" After a second the general added almost wistfully, -"He knocked Senator Gilroy down."</p> - -<p>Colin laughed. "Good for him."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," the general agreed. "That bastard fought us tooth and nail all -the way down the line, cutting appropriations, taking our best men.... -Then when we get a ship back, he's the first in line for the newsreels."</p> - -<p>Colin looked up. "You have newsreels?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, but I don't think they're processed yet."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place? Check them, will you?"</p> - -<p>The general made a short phone call. When he hung up he looked -embarrassed. "You want to see them?"</p> - -<p>"Very much."</p> - -<p>"There's a viewing room in Building Three," Banning said. "We can walk."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When the lights had come on again, Colin sat staring at the blank -screen for a long time. Finally he sighed, stood and stretched.</p> - -<p>"Well," Banning said. "What do you think?"</p> - -<p>"I'll want to see it again. But it's pretty clear, I think."</p> - -<p>The general looked up in surprise. "Clear? It's just the same thing I -told you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no," Colin said. "You left out the most important part."</p> - -<p>"What was that?"</p> - -<p>"Your boy is blind and deaf."</p> - -<p>"Blind and deaf! You're crazy. The ship, he looked at the ship, and the -microphone, and...."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's pretty selective blindness," Colin said. He filled his pipe -with maddening slowness and lit it before he spoke again.</p> - -<p>"People," he said finally. "He doesn't see people. At all."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Harkins fell asleep leaning forward in the control chair with his -head on his arms. When he wakened, the sky outside the viewport was -turning dark. With a sense of sudden danger, he clamped down the metal -shutters over the port. Methodically he climbed down catwalks the -length of the ship, making certain all ports were secured both from -entry and from sight. He didn't want to see outside.</p> - -<p>When he had done this, he felt easier. Walking to the galley, he put a -can of soup in the heater, and took it back up to the control room with -him.</p> - -<p>He sat there, absently eating his soup and staring ahead at the -console. He noted he was beginning to get used to the harsh outlines it -presented in this space. Suddenly he realized there was a red light on -the board. He put the bowl of soup carefully on the deck and went over -to the transmitter where a loop of tape was endlessly repeating itself, -apparently broadcasting. He could not remember having inserted it. The -empty spool lying beside the transmitter read AUTOMATIC DISTRESS CODE.</p> - -<p>He understood all the words, all right, but put together they didn't -seem to make any sense. AUTOMATIC DISTRESS CODE. What would it be for? -Why would such a thing be broadcast? If you were in distress, you -surely knew it without transmitting it.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. Things were very bad with him. He was profoundly -disturbed by his loss of control. Performing all sorts of meaningless -actions without volition.... And now, with this tape, he had not even -been conscious of the act, could not remember it.</p> - -<p>He went back to the control chair and finished his bowl of soup.</p> - -<p>Thinking about it, his meaningless activities had all been centered -around one thing, this odd transmit-receive apparatus, this radio. -He had looked at it before, and he realized it was very carefully -constructed, and complicated. The wiring itself confused him. And more -than that, he could not determine any possible use such a thing might -have.</p> - -<p>Thinking about it gave him the same prickly sensation at the back of -his neck as when he thought about the nonsense words in the songs he -knew. "Wife." Things like that.</p> - -<p>He rubbed the back of his neck hard, until it hurt. He realized his -headache had almost gone away when he secured the ports, but now it was -coming back again.</p> - -<p>Another light flashed on the console, and a melodic "beep—beep" began -to sound from somewhere behind the panel.</p> - -<p>Automatically he reached forward and flipped a switch, and the -"beep—beep" stopped. Without surprise, he noticed it was the switch -marked Receive.</p> - -<p>So. When the light flashed and the "beep—beep" sounded he was supposed -to throw that Receive switch. Presumably, then, he should receive -something. Was that right?</p> - -<p>He looked around the control room, but nothing happened.</p> - -<p>Just on the edge of his consciousness there was a faint sussuration, -but when he turned his attention to it, it disappeared. There was no -sound. But when he thought of something else, it came back again.</p> - -<p>It was like an image caught in the corner of his eye. There was -nothing there, but sometimes you thought you caught just a flash of -something out of the corner of your eye. Like this afternoon....</p> - -<p>He shuddered at the recollection.</p> - -<p>In all his life, he could not remember anything that had driven him -into such pure panic as the loathsome invisible touches he had felt. -What kind of creatures were these?</p> - -<p>This was Earth. This was his home, it was where he belonged, and he -couldn't remember anything about invisible....</p> - -<p>Yes! Yes, he did remember! But there was still something wrong -because—he couldn't think why.</p> - -<p>He remembered walking on a grassy meadow on a spring day. The grass -was rich and luxuriant and the sun was hot copper in the sky. He was -walking toward the top of a hill. Right at the top there was a single -small, green tree. He was going to go up and lie down under that tree -and look down in the valley at the meadow. And beside him there was—a -presence. He remembered turning to look, and—nothing. There was -nothing there.</p> - -<p>But the feeling of the presence next to him made him pleased, somehow. -It was right. It was not menacing, like this afternoon, it was -more—comforting. As the sound the Skipdrive made was comforting. It -made him feel fine. But when he turned to look, there was nothing.</p> - -<p>He could not remember.</p> - -<p>What kind of presence? Like the ship? No, much smaller. Smaller even -than himself. Compared to the ship, he was small, quite small. He was -infinitely smaller than even planetary mass. And there were things on -the ship that were smaller than he.</p> - -<p>But he couldn't quite place himself with assurance on the scale of -size. He was larger than some things, like the bowl of soup, and he was -smaller than other things, like planets. He must be of a sort of medium -size. But closer to the bowl of soup than the planet.</p> - -<p><i>A wife is a Martha.</i></p> - -<p>He remembered thinking that just as the rockets had fired. It was in -the song.... He whistled a few bars. <i>I had a good wife but I left her, -oh, oh, oh, oh.</i></p> - -<p>And it had something to do with the remembered—presence, when he was -walking in the meadow.</p> - -<p>But what was a Martha? You can't define a nonsense word in terms of -another nonsense word. Or perhaps, he thought ruefully, you can't -define it any <i>other</i> way.</p> - -<p><i>A wife is a Martha. A wife is a Martha. A Martha is a wife.</i></p> - -<p>Nothing.</p> - -<p>But he felt the headache coming on again.</p> - -<p>He went down to the galley again, and took the soup bowl with him. He -put it in the washer, and rummaged around in the cabinets until he -found the little white pills that helped his headaches. He took three -of them before he went back up to the control room.</p> - -<p>He had to make some kind of plans for—for what? Escape? He didn't want -to escape. He was home. He wanted to stay here. But he had to deal with -the—things, somehow. He wondered if they could be killed. There was -no way to tell. If you killed one you couldn't see its body.</p> - -<p>And he didn't have any weapons, at any rate. He would simply have to -outsmart them. He wondered how smart they were. And how large. That -would make a good deal of difference, how large they were.</p> - -<p>He went to the viewport and cracked the shutter, just a little. It was -dark. He didn't want to go out in the dark, that was too much. It would -be too much risk. He would wait until morning.</p> - -<p>In spite of the pills, the headache was getting worse, almost to the -insane level it had been in the afternoon. He decided he'd better try -to sleep.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">3.</p> - -<p>Colin and General Banning stood at the shoulder of the radio operator -in Gila Base IV Central Control. It was just past midnight. Banning's -fatigue was evident; Colin, having been involved a shorter time, still -looked reasonably fresh.</p> - -<p>Monotonously the radio tech droned: "Gila Control to <i>Phoenix I</i> come -in please. Gila Control to <i>Phoenix I</i> come in please. Gila Control to -<i>Phoenix I</i> come in please." After every third repetition of the chant, -he switched to Receive and briefly listened to the buzz and crackle -from the overhead speakers.</p> - -<p>"Gila Control to <i>Phoenix I</i>...."</p> - -<p>"Is he still transmitting the distress code?" Colin asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," the tech said. "But he could still reply if he wanted -to. Distress operates from a separate transmitter on a single fixed -frequency. The ordinary transmitter isn't tied up."</p> - -<p>"Is he receiving?"</p> - -<p>"I think so. When we gave him the 'Message coming' impulse, he switched -to receive. That was hours ago."</p> - -<p>"Maybe he's tuned to the wrong frequency," Banning suggested.</p> - -<p>The tech looked up in surprise, then resumed his respectful attitude -toward the brass. "No, sir. His rig is a self-tuner. The signal -automatically tunes the receiver to the right frequency. He's getting -it, all right."</p> - -<p>"In other words," Colin said, "your voice is being broadcast on the -ship's speakers."</p> - -<p>"As far as I can tell."</p> - -<p>"Mm."</p> - -<p>Colin leaned back against a chart table and pulled on his pipe for a -few moments.</p> - -<p>"Please go on, sergeant," he said finally. "Keep trying. But change the -patter to 'please reply,' would you?"</p> - -<p>"What difference does that make?" Banning asked. "That's what 'come in' -means, anyway. Same thing."</p> - -<p>"Just an idea," Colin said. "Why don't you get some rest? You look -beat."</p> - -<p>"What kind of an idea?" Banning said, rubbing his forehead.</p> - -<p>"Can you get a couple of cots brought to your office?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but what's your idea?"</p> - -<p>"Come on along and I'll tell you about it," Colin said.</p> - -<p>They left Central Control, with the voice of the sergeant sounding -behind them, "<i>Gila Control to Phoenix I please reply. Gila -Control....</i>"</p> - -<p>Reaching Banning's office, Colin sent one of the ubiquitous armed -guards after two cots.</p> - -<p>"You can't shoot all your energy at once," he pointed out, when Banning -protested he didn't need the sleep. "If we're going to get Harkins -out of that ship, we're going to have to stay in pretty good shape -ourselves."</p> - -<p>"All right," Banning grumbled. He made coffee on the hot plate from -the bottom drawer of his desk, grinning at Colin like a small boy -caught stealing cookies. "I like a little coffee once in a while," he -explained unnecessarily.</p> - -<p>When they had settled themselves with the coffee, Banning asked, "All -right, now. Why'd you change 'come in please' to 'please reply'?"</p> - -<p>"It's less ambiguous," Colin said. "'Come in please' could mean several -things."</p> - -<p>"So? Anybody with as much radio experience as Harkins knows what 'Come -in please' means."</p> - -<p>"You're going to have to get used to the idea you're not dealing with -Harkins in this. Take the point of view, this is somebody you've never -seen before. Somebody you have to figure out from scratch."</p> - -<p>"Mm. I suppose so. Okay, why the change?"</p> - -<p>"Well—" Colin hesitated. "First of all, this—blindness is purely a -functional block of some kind. There's nothing organically wrong with -his vision."</p> - -<p>"I'm still not sure I go along with your blind-deaf idea," the General -said dubiously.</p> - -<p>"I'm virtually certain, after seeing the film strip again. Your Colonel -Harkins behaves exactly like a man being molested by something he can't -see."</p> - -<p>"For the sake of argument, then...." Banning nodded.</p> - -<p>"All right. Presupposing he does not want to see human beings—for -whatever reason—there are several mechanisms he could use."</p> - -<p>"He didn't even have to come back," Banning pointed out.</p> - -<p>"That's one of the mechanisms. But he <i>did</i> come back. Why? Problem -one, for the future. Mechanism two: Catalepsy. Suspension of <i>all</i> -sensation and consciousness."</p> - -<p>"Obviously not the case."</p> - -<p>"Right. Mechanism three," Colin went on, ticking the points off on his -fingers, "<i>partial</i> disorientation. Loss of perception of a single -class of objects, human beings."</p> - -<p>"Even that isn't entirely true," Banning said. "He <i>felt</i> people."</p> - -<p>"That's right. And I think this is our opening wedge. Of the possible -means of avoidance I named, partial disorientation is the <i>least</i> -successful of all. It involves too many contradictions. He was -disturbed by the microphones, for example. Why? Because they are -meaningful only in a context of human beings. Communication. He would -have to do some fancy twisting to avoid the notion of human beings. -The same goes for any other human artifact. Somehow, in order to -make the world 'reasonable' in his own terms, he has to explain the -existence of these things, without admitting the existence of people -who made and use them."</p> - -<p>"Impossible."</p> - -<p>"Very nearly. It means that some facet of his personality must be -continually making decisions about what can be recognized and what -cannot. His censoring mechanism is in a constant scramble to prevent -certain data from reaching his conscious mind. It has to justify and -explain away <i>all</i> data which would eventually point to the existence -of human beings."</p> - -<p>"What the hell does he think <i>he</i> is?" Banning asked angrily.</p> - -<p>"I have no idea. Maybe that's problem two for the future. At any rate, -as you pointed out, this is an impossible job. It must be infinitely -more difficult now that he's on Earth, where there are so many more -things to explain away. This is going to set up a terrific strain -inside. It may break him."</p> - -<p>"What would do that to a man?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know that, either," Colin admitted. "Our first problem now is -to get him out of the ship. And to do that, we have to contact him."</p> - -<p>"This is why you changed to 'please reply'? What good is it going to do -if he can't hear it, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"That's the point. I think he <i>can</i> hear it. He can't <i>recognize</i> it, -but that isn't quite the same thing. His eardrums still vibrate, the -data gets in, all right. But it doesn't reach the conscious level. -Fortunately, it isn't always necessary to be consciously aware of -a stimulus before you can respond to it. Frequently a persistent -stimulation just below the threshold of awareness will produce a -response in the organism. Sub-threshold stimulation, it's called."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," Banning said, "I've heard of it. Used it in advertising, didn't -they?"</p> - -<p>"For a while. Before Congress passed the Privacy Amendment."</p> - -<p>"Okay. Now what?"</p> - -<p>"Now we wait and see if it works. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up -if anything happens."</p> - -<p>Colin stretched out on one of the cots, put his hands behind his head -and soon was breathing deeply in an excellent imitation of sleep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The clock on Banning's desk said 4:33 when his communicator chimed. -Banning was off his cot and at the desk before the first soft echoes -faded.</p> - -<p>"Banning. Yes ... yes ... all right, right away."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Colin asked.</p> - -<p>"They've got something from the <i>Phoenix</i> at Control."</p> - -<p>When they reached the radio room again, a different technician was on -shift. He was intently watching an oscilloscope face on the board in -front of him.</p> - -<p>"What happened, did he answer?" the general asked.</p> - -<p>"No, sir. But a few minutes ago we started getting a carrier wave on -his transmission frequency."</p> - -<p>Banning sighed disgustedly. "Is that all? Dammit!"</p> - -<p>"What does that mean?" Colin asked.</p> - -<p>"Not a damned thing," Banning said angrily. "He just threw the -transmission switch, is all."</p> - -<p>"Look, sir." The radioman pointed to the oscilloscope. The smooth -sine of the carrier was slightly modulated now, uneven dips and jogs -appearing rhythmically. "There's something coming through, but it's -awfully damned faint, Sir."</p> - -<p>"Run your sensitivity up," Banning ordered.</p> - -<p>The radioman slowly twisted a knob, and the hiss-and-crackle coming -through the speakers increased in volume until each snap was like a -gunshot in the radio room. Colin winced at the noise.</p> - -<p>"Maximum, sir."</p> - -<p>"Increase your gain, then."</p> - -<p>The technician did. The speakers were roaring now, filling the room. -Very faintly behind the torrent of sound another sound could be -heard, more regular. The rhythm corresponded with the jogging of the -oscilloscope.</p> - -<p>"That's it," Banning said. "But what the hell is it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't—wait a minute," said Colin. "He's whistling! It's a tune."</p> - -<p>"You recognize it?"</p> - -<p>"No—no, it's vaguely familiar, but—"</p> - -<p>"I know it, sir," the radioman said. "It's an old folksong, <i>The -Quaker's Wooing</i>."</p> - -<p>"Why is it so faint?" asked Colin.</p> - -<p>"He must be a hell of a ways off-mike," said the tech. "Clear at the -other end of the control room, I'd say."</p> - -<p>"Turn down that damned noise," said Banning. The radioman twisted his -controls back to medium range, and the thunderous hissing roar of the -speakers died away.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Banning, "nothing. We shoulda stood in bed."</p> - -<p>"I'm not so sure," Colin answered. "After all, he <i>did</i> start to -transmit, and that's more than we've had since he landed. I think we'd -better keep it up."</p> - -<p>"All right. Keep at it, sergeant."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>As Colin and Banning turned away, the psychiatrist heard the sergeant -begin to sing softly to himself. Suddenly Colin stopped and turned back -to the man.</p> - -<p>"What'd you say?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>"Nothing, sir."</p> - -<p>"What you were singing, that song."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it was the one the colonel was whistling, sir. It gets to running -around in your head. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."</p> - -<p>"No, I want to know what the words are. What you just said."</p> - -<p>"Well, it goes, I mean it starts out, I can't remember the whole—"</p> - -<p>"Come <i>on</i>, man! Sing it!"</p> - -<p>In an uncertain voice the radioman began to sing:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"<i>I had a true wife but I left her, oh, oh, oh, oh.</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>And now I'm broken hearted, oh, oh, oh, oh.</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Well, if she's gone, I wouldn't mind her,</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Foldy roldy hey ding di do,</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Soon find one—</i>"</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"That's enough, sergeant," Colin said, relaxing. He turned to Banning. -"Well, General, that's it. The wedge goes in a little deeper."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Is Harkins married?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, I think so. She lives in the officer's quarters on base."</p> - -<p>"Get her," Colin said.</p> - -<p>"Now? My God man, it isn't even five—"</p> - -<p>"Get her," Colin repeated. "Harkins has her on his mind. Maybe we can -get to him through her."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Martha Harkins was a small brunette, too plain ever to be called -pretty. Almost mousy, Colin thought. But intelligent, and quick to -understand the situation, in spite of her nervousness. She sat on the -opposite side of Banning's desk, her hands folded quietly in her lap, -fingers twined, while Colin explained what they wanted her to do. Her -still-sleepy eyes were fixed on her fingers while the psychiatrist -talked.</p> - -<p>"I—I think I see," she said hesitantly. "What it comes down to is that -you want me to try to talk Dick out of <i>Phoenix I</i>."</p> - -<p>Colin nodded. "It may not be easy. I've told you as much as we know -about the condition of his mind. He will not consciously hear you, in -all likelihood. We hope to appeal to deep-seated emotions below the -conscious level. Are you willing to try?"</p> - -<p>"Of course," she said with real surprise, looking up at him for the -first time.</p> - -<p>"Good," Colin said warmly. He stood from behind the desk. "We'll take -you over to radio, now."</p> - -<p>Banning was waiting for them in Central Control.</p> - -<p>"Any change?" Colin asked.</p> - -<p>"No. Same thing. Sometimes he comes closer to the mike. We can hear -his footsteps. He seems to be wandering around the control room pretty -aimlessly. Or maybe he's just carrying on the in-flight routine, we -can't tell."</p> - -<p>"This is Mrs. Harkins," Colin said. "General Banning."</p> - -<p>"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Harkins," the general said. "I hope this -isn't too difficult for you." He took her small hand in his own.</p> - -<p>Martha Harkins smiled faintly. "A service wife gets used to just about -everything, general."</p> - -<p>"Unfortunately true. If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to your -technician. Has Dr. Meany explained what we want you to do?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I think so."</p> - -<p>"Good."</p> - -<p>"Just one thing, Mrs. Harkins," Colin put in. "This may take some time. -It may be we'll want you to cut a tape with a request to leave the -ship, if we can't get any response from live voice. Repetition is the -important thing, and the sound of your voice."</p> - -<p>"All right. I'll do whatever you say." She turned away briefly, but not -before Colin saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p>Banning led her over to the radio console, saw her seated and -instructed in the use of the equipment, and returned to Colin.</p> - -<p>"What do you think?" he said.</p> - -<p>"She'll do."</p> - -<p>"Will it work?"</p> - -<p>"How the hell do I know?" the psychiatrist answered roughly.</p> - -<p>They were silent for a moment, watching the small figure of the woman -leaning forward tensely over the microphone, as if by her nearness she -might make her husband hear.</p> - -<p>"You know," Banning said musingly, "I get the feeling this is all the -fault of SpaServ, somehow. Some little thing we overlooked. A little -more training, maybe."</p> - -<p>The woman's soft voice droned on, not quite carrying distinctly to the -two men, though the warmth and urgency of it was evident in her tone.</p> - -<p>"I think you did all right with your training," Colin said finally. "He -came back, didn't he?"</p> - - -<p class="ph1">4.</p> - -<p>Harkins slept only lightly, turning restlessly in the large control -chair. Finally the pain of his headache increased to the point he -could no longer sleep at all, even lightly. Just before he wakened, he -thought he heard a sound at once intolerably loud and somehow soothing. -Which was impossible, of course.</p> - -<p>Opening the viewport shutter a crack, he found the land outside lit -ambiguously by the false dawn that was beginning to spread against the -eastern hills.</p> - -<p>He took several more of the white pills for his headache. Briefly he -considered eating something, but abandoned the idea. The pain was so -intense, he didn't think he could keep anything down.</p> - -<p>He found the illusion he had noted yesterday—the whispering sound he -could not hear when he tried—was still there. It was even worse now.</p> - -<p>All about him was the flickering shadow of a sound, demanding his -attention, requesting. And still—when he tried to hear it, it was gone.</p> - -<p>He pressed his knuckles against his forehead and clenched his eyes -tightly shut.</p> - -<p>If only he had something to do to take his mind off the headache and -the elusive sound.... But there was nothing to do. With neither the -Skipdrive nor the atomics operating, he had not even the routine -powerchecks to keep him occupied.</p> - -<p><i>Then why am I here?</i></p> - -<p>His function was to operate the ship. That much he knew without doubt. -And he was well suited to operate it. His hands were properly shaped -to manipulate the controls, and he could do it automatically, without -thinking about it. He was Ship-Operator.</p> - -<p>But the ship was not operating....</p> - -<p>What was his function then, when the ship was not operating?</p> - -<p>The other control devices, when not controlling, automatically shut -off. Perhaps something had gone wrong in his shut-off relay.</p> - -<p>That was not it, either. He was not the same as the other controlling -mechanisms. He was different. Different materials, different potential -functions in his structure, all kinds of differences.</p> - -<p>But even if it were true that he was <i>not</i> intended to switch off when -not functioning as Ship-Operator, what was he to do?</p> - -<p><i>Think it out. Think this thing out very carefully.</i></p> - -<p>Pain was a signal of improper functioning. All right. He was not -functioning properly, then, and he knew it because of the level of pain -in his head. If he could get rid of the headache, he would at the same -time be finding his proper function.</p> - -<p>Step one, then: Get rid of the headache. And he had to do that anyway, -because he was unable to think clearly while he had it.</p> - -<p>The headache had alleviated several times, then come back again. That -meant he had performed properly, then drifted away into—into—Wrong -was the word that came to his mind. Wrong. He had drifted into improper -functioning, and the word for that was Wrong, and his headache had come -back as a result.</p> - -<p>All right. <i>When</i> had the headache alleviated?</p> - -<p>He tried to think back. The first time, the first time was when he -had found himself speaking the meaningless words into the microphone, -announcing his estimated time-to-destination. And then, when he had -closed the viewports. And throwing that Receive switch....</p> - -<p>What did these actions have in common? What factor did they share?</p> - -<p>Only one thing. Two, really. First, they had some connection with the -transmit-receive apparatus. Or two of the three did, at any rate. The -other factor, shared by all three acts, was that they were done almost -without his conscious will.</p> - -<p>This, then, might be the critical factor. That he act without volition.</p> - -<p>Relax. Completely. <i>Allow</i> yourself to act.</p> - -<p>He leaned back in the control chair and tried to blank his mind, tried -not to give his body any commands.</p> - -<p><i>Without volition, without willing.</i></p> - -<p>He closed his eyes.</p> - -<p>For a long while there was nothing. Then he heard the whir of -servomotors. He opened his eyes, delicately probed with his mind ... -and the headache had lessened.</p> - -<p>He glanced up at the console, to see what he had done. A red bulb -glowed over the label AIRLOCK. He had thrown the airlock switch, then. -And it had been the "proper function" for him, because the headache had -lessened. But the out-of-range whispering had not diminished.</p> - -<p>The airlock? He shook his head in puzzlement. But the technique seemed -to be working. What now?</p> - -<p>He closed his eyes again, and this time the delay was shorter. He knew -before he looked what had happened. He had lowered the landing ladder.</p> - -<p>Well, this began to be obvious. He was to leave the ship.</p> - -<p>And yet, the headache had been worst when he <i>had</i> left the ship. -What did that mean? It seemed to mean leaving the ship was a Wrong -function. But it was certainly indicated this time, from his opening of -the airlock and lowering the ladder.</p> - -<p>Well, what was Wrong function at one time might well be Right function -another time. That could happen.</p> - -<p><i>Leave the ship....</i></p> - -<p>There was an edge of pleasantness and warmth to that thought, and the -headache diminished.</p> - -<p>"<i>Please leave the ship, Dick....</i>" It was almost as if he could hear a -warmth in the air saying that to him.</p> - -<p>Try the alternative. Deliberately he thought: <i>Stay in the ship</i>.</p> - -<p>A flash of pain soared up the back of his head and across the top to -settle swirling and agonizingly in his temples.</p> - -<p><i>Leave the ship</i>, he thought quickly, and the pain abated.</p> - -<p>Clear enough.</p> - -<p>He got to his feet and carefully made his way out of the control room -down the catwalk toward the airlock that stood open and waiting to let -him out of <i>Phoenix I</i>....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An excited non-com slammed open the door to the radio room and shouted, -"The airlock's opening!"</p> - -<p>Banning and Colin dashed to the broad window and stared out at the -bulky shape of <i>Phoenix I</i>, resting monolithic on the landing pad. -Banning took the proffered binoculars from the non-com, focussed them -on the broad flank of the ship.</p> - -<p>"It's open, all right," he said. "Here." He handed the binoculars to -Colin.</p> - -<p>After a long delay, the landing ladder slid down the side of the ship.</p> - -<p>"I think he's going to come out."</p> - -<p>"There he is."</p> - -<p>"What's he doing?"</p> - -<p>"Standing in the airlock, looking around. Now he's starting to come -down. Now he's at the bottom of the ladder, looking around again.... -Now he's walking this way."</p> - -<p>"Give me the glasses," Banning said. He looked for a long moment, -making sure the colonel's direction did not change. "Still coming -this way," he said, putting the glasses carefully on the table by the -window. He turned to look at the psychiatrist. "What now?"</p> - -<p>Colin shrugged. "Get him."</p> - -<p>"Sergeant!" Banning called. "Sergeant, take five men...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The room in which they put him was comfortable and secure. Very secure. -The bed was firmly welded to the wall, the table bolted to the floor. -There was nothing movable or detachable in the room.</p> - -<p>The three microphones picked up little but the shuffle of feet; cameras -dutifully imprinted on film the image of a man pacing restlessly back -and forth, examining the fixtures of the room without apparent anxiety -or curiosity.</p> - -<p>"No trouble at all," Banning answered Colin's question. "He didn't even -see the patrol. Spray shot of Somnol in the arm and that was it."</p> - -<p>"He doesn't seem particularly upset," Colin mused, watching the screen -on which the lean figure of Colonel Harkins paced.</p> - -<p>"Nervous," Banning said.</p> - -<p>"Not as badly as the situation would warrant. I don't think it's -getting through to him. He's apathetic."</p> - -<p>"How did he react to seeing his wife?" Banning asked.</p> - -<p>"Bewildered him. Gave him a hell of a headache."</p> - -<p>"That all?"</p> - -<p>"That's all."</p> - -<p>"What now?"</p> - -<p>Colin sighed. "Get through to him some way." He tamped tobacco in his -pipe, his eyes still on the spyscreen. Harkins was now sitting on the -bed, his hands immobile on his knees, staring straight ahead.</p> - -<p>"How do you intend to do that?"</p> - -<p>Colin reached for a pad of paper and began scribbling, talking as he -wrote. "How are you feeding him?"</p> - -<p>"Double door compartment. Put the food in, close the outside door, open -the inside."</p> - -<p>"Put this on his tray next time, will you?" Colin handed the general a -slip of paper. On it was written a single sentence: <i>Richard Harkins, I -want to talk to you.</i></p> - -<p>"All right," Banning said, reading it. "He's due for lunch in about an -hour."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the screen, Colin could see the light come on over the food -compartment, and the microphones picked up the sound of a bell. -Harkins, who had not moved from the bed since his initial examination -of the cubicle, looked up. The inner door of the compartment opened, -revealing a tray with several steaming dishes, a pitcher of milk and a -pot of coffee on a self-warm pad.</p> - -<p>Harkins stood up. He looked at the food, walked over to the tiny open -door and picked up the tray. Calmly he carried it over to the table, -sat down, unfolded the napkin and put it in his lap.</p> - -<p>"My God," Banning whispered, "you'd think he'd eaten this way all his -life."</p> - -<p>"Apathetic," Colin said shortly. "He refuses to admit anything unusual."</p> - -<p>"How the hell could he rationalize losing consciousness and waking up -in a windowless room?"</p> - -<p>Colin shrugged. "Brain's a funny thing," was his only comment. His eyes -were fixed intently on the screen. Suddenly Harkins noticed the slip of -paper tucked under the corner of one of the dishes.</p> - -<p>Colin leaned forward, took his pipe out of his mouth.</p> - -<p>Harkins withdrew the paper and looked at it. Even on the screen, Colin -could see the writing, almost make out the words.</p> - -<p>Harkins stared briefly at the paper, turned it over and looked at the -other side in puzzlement. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.</p> - -<p>Finally he gave a little shrug, put the message back on the tray and -resumed eating.</p> - -<p>Colin sat heavily back in his chair. He sighed.</p> - -<p>"He didn't even see it," Banning said disgustedly.</p> - -<p>"He saw the paper, not the message."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Personal communication. It implies the existence of another -communicating—entity. He won't admit it." Colin re-lit his pipe.</p> - -<p>"Ah, hell!"</p> - -<p>"I guess we'll have to take the direct approach," Colin said -thoughtfully.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He lay relaxed on the bed in the little room, his eyes closed, his -face calm and quiet. Pulse normal, temperature normal. Above and in -the walls recorders and cameras purred almost silently with the bland -indifference of omniscience.</p> - -<p><i>Harkins.</i></p> - -<p><i>Yes.</i></p> - -<p><i>Can you hear me?</i></p> - -<p>... <i>no</i> ... The strain of the question twisted the man's face into a -grimace of pain.</p> - -<p>Pause. Then:</p> - -<p><i>You are Richard Harkins.</i></p> - -<p><i>Yes.</i></p> - -<p><i>Colonel....</i></p> - -<p><i>Yes.</i></p> - -<p><i>Can you hear me?</i></p> - -<p><i>I.... No.</i> Anxious contortion. <i>All right. It's all right.</i></p> - -<p>The man's face returned to relaxation.</p> - -<p><i>How old are you?</i></p> - -<p><i>Thirty-two.</i></p> - -<p><i>Have you always been thirty-two?</i></p> - -<p>...</p> - -<p><i>Have you always been thirty-two?</i></p> - -<p>... <i>no</i> ... Hesitantly.</p> - -<p><i>You were once younger.</i></p> - -<p><i>Yes.</i></p> - -<p><i>You were once a child and grew to be a young man and grew to be -thirty-two.</i></p> - -<p>... <i>yes</i> ...</p> - -<p><i>Why do you hesitate?</i></p> - -<p><i>I don't understand all the words you say.</i></p> - -<p><i>What words don't you understand?</i></p> - -<p><i>Well—Man.</i> The expression of pain and anxiety flitted across his -relaxed features.</p> - -<p><i>I will explain the words later. Don't worry about them now.</i></p> - -<p><i>All right.</i></p> - -<p><i>Richard Harkins, we are going to move back to a time when you were -nineteen. You are nineteen years old. You are nineteen.</i></p> - -<p><i>How old are you?</i></p> - -<p><i>Nineteen.</i></p> - -<p><i>What are you doing?</i></p> - -<p><i>I—I'm a cadet, I—</i></p> - -<p><i>What kind of cadet?</i></p> - -<p>... <i>SpaServ</i> ...</p> - -<p><i>All right, now we'll move ahead two years. You are twenty-one years -old. Twenty-one. How old are you?</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gradually Colin brought Harkins forward in time, carefully, feeling -his way gingerly along the dark corridors of his mind. He brought him -through cadets, graduation, his marriage to Martha (touchy: gently, -gently)—his service in the planetary fleet.</p> - -<p>Then: a mysterious phrase; rumors—Phoenix Project.</p> - -<p>—<i>nobody seems to know. Something secret, but no telling. -Everything's secret this year. Testing officers right and left and up -and down. But nobody knows what for....</i></p> - -<p>... <i>card waiting for me at breakfast</i> ...</p> - -<p>Months of testing. Still nobody knows, but the rumors are running fast -and heavy. Whole base preoccupied with the misty Phoenix Project. -Secret construction hangar, security precautions to the point of -absurdity....</p> - -<p>... <i>I'm it!</i> ...</p> - -<p>... <i>it's faster-than-light drive, that's what Phoenix Project is. -Faster-than-light. The big dream, the dream of the stars</i> ...</p> - -<p>Training. Slower through the two years of intensive training. This -may be a critical phase. Two years, endless repetitive drill, drill -practice drill drill drill.... Colin's forehead feels cool as he sits -beside the bed. Perspiration. A glance at his watch shows him two hours -since they began.</p> - -<p><i>How did you take to this intensive training?</i></p> - -<p><i>All right. It was all right. Dull, you know, but it was all right -generally. After the first year it was pretty automatic. Conditioned -response, I didn't have to think. If and when such and such happens, -press this button, throw that switch. Automatic.</i></p> - -<p>Automatic, Colin thought. That's why he came back then. Without -volition, responding to given signals according to training.</p> - -<p>... <i>walking toward the ship. She's big and bulky, but we're friends by -now. Now I'm climbing the ladder up to the lock</i> ...</p> - -<p>... <i>listening to the count down ... two ... one ... fire!</i> ...</p> - -<p>Harkins grunted as the re-lived acceleration slammed him back in the -control chair with a relentless and unabating pressure. He was silent -for thirty seconds.</p> - -<p>... <i>blacked out, not long. Report in to Gila Base, launching -successful. They acknowledge, give me course. I'm moving "up", at right -angles to the plane of the ecliptic. Fastest way to get away from large -mass bodies</i> ...</p> - -<p>Time then on atomic rockets, almost a full day. Colin brushed over this -phase, which was routine. As far as he could tell, Harkins' duties had -been designed principally to keep him from getting bored before it was -time to cut in the Skipdrive, and this corresponded with what General -Banning had told him.</p> - -<p>As he approached the time of the Skip, he moved more slowly, taking in -detail.</p> - -<p>... <i>three minute bell. The bell is a pretty sound. I am checking the -controls again. Everything is fine. I am sitting down in the control -chair with my hands relaxed over the ends of the arms. When my fingers -brush against the buttons, they tingle, or seem to. We're all ready. -There's the two minute bell</i> ...</p> - -<p>Pause.</p> - -<p><i>One minute bell</i> ...</p> - -<p>Suddenly Harkins sat stiffly upright on the bed. His eyes snapped open, -staring with fear and disbelief at something Colin could not see.</p> - -<p><i>Oh, my God</i>, he whispered.</p> - -<p><i>What is it?</i></p> - -<p>But there was no direct answer. Harkins repeated:</p> - -<p><i>Oh, my God, my God, my God</i> ...</p> - -<p><i>What do you see? What is there?</i></p> - -<p><i>Oh Jesus the stars the stars the stars God in heaven I can't Jesus -make them go make them go make them go</i> ...</p> - -<p>His voice had risen almost to a scream, his eyes open wide and staring, -his body rigid.</p> - -<p>With a whimper, he clenched his eyes shut and fell back on the bed. He -drew his knees slowly and jerkily up to his chest, as if resisting the -movement, clasped his arms around his legs tightly.</p> - -<p>He began to rock back and forth, gently, gently, as if immersed in -water, his breath making an involuntary whining sound as it passed his -constricted throat.</p> - -<p><i>Move forward in time. Move ahead. You are coming out of the Skip. You -are coming out of the Skip. You are returning to normal space.</i></p> - -<p>Colin's voice was steady and calm over the high-pitched whines coming -from the throat of the man on the bed. Suddenly his face relaxed. The -eyes remained closed, but closed as if in sleep, rather than anguish. -His arms and shoulder released their clenched grip around his knees.</p> - -<p>Evenly, smoothly, his legs straightened on the bed, his feet digging -into the covers and pushing them into a roll at the bottom. He finally -lay as he had begun, stretched straight with his hands beside his -thighs and his face relaxed. When he spoke, it was in a normal, almost -conversational tone.</p> - -<p>... <i>belled out. I like the sound of that bell, it is relaxing. It's -a good signal and I'm glad it happens that way. I stand up from the -control chair and stretch. I have the strong notion something very -pleasant has happened.</i></p> - -<p><i>How do you feel? Do you feel strange?</i></p> - -<p><i>No, I feel fine. Everything is fine. I check the instruments, and -they show that a Skip has been completed. That's good. I don't—I -don't—somehow I can't remember why I wanted to</i> ...</p> - -<p>His voice broke off, puzzled. Colin waited, and in a minute Harkins -began to speak again.</p> - -<p>... <i>hear the sound of the Skipdrive. It comforts me. Funny, I don't -remember ever hearing it before</i> ...</p> - -<p><i>Go back before. Go back. You hear the one minute bell. You can hear -the one minute bell and you are ready to make your Skip. You are -getting ready to make your Skip.</i></p> - -<p>Harkins snapped upright again and repeated his actions. He shouted and -screamed, his body was forced into the foetal position jerkily....</p> - -<p><i>OH GOD THE STARS THE STARS THE STARS</i></p> - -<p>Whimpering.</p> - -<p><i>Go forward. You are returning to normal space....</i></p> - -<p><i>I feel fine, everything is fine. I check the instruments</i> ...</p> - -<p><i>Go back....</i></p> - -<p>There was no lessening.</p> - -<p>Colin's shirt was slick on his body with sweat, his face looked old, -older, his breath came in almost imperceptible quaverings, but his -voice remained calm and assured, in violent and distinct contrast to -the strain that showed plainly as age in his face—</p> - -<p><i>Move ahead....</i></p> - -<p><i>Move back....</i></p> - -<p>Twenty-three minutes later, Colin closed his eyes and said:</p> - -<p><i>In ten minutes from this time you will waken feeling refreshed and -relaxed, as after a good sleep. You will be alert and fresh when you -waken. You will feel as if you have just had a pleasant nap. You will -remember nothing of what has happened while you were asleep, but you -will feel fresh and relaxed when you waken ten minutes from this time.</i></p> - -<p>He finished the waking-formula mechanically and left the little room. -He walked slowly and deliberately to his quarters on the base, as -though holding himself rigidly in control. He did not answer Banning's -excited questions except to say, "I can't talk about it now."</p> - -<p>Reaching his room he fell full length on the bed and was asleep nearly -before the swaying of the bed had quieted.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">5.</p> - -<p>Several hours later he was again in General Banning's office.</p> - -<p>"Look," Banning said, "I'm sorry to press this, and I know you took a -hell of a beating in there. But we've got to know."</p> - -<p>Colin nodded morosely. "I know. I'm sorry about the delay."</p> - -<p>"You looked more dead than alive when you came out."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I'm too long on empathy and too short on objectivity to -fool with that kind of thing. One of the reasons I don't often trigger -these big discharges in my own practice. I get—inside, I guess, -somehow. No detachment, or not enough."</p> - -<p>"What was there? Inside, if that's the way you want to put it."</p> - -<p>Colin sighed, absently pulled his pipe from his jacket pocket. -"Specifically, I don't think I can tell you. He saw—or experienced -as seeing—something when he went into the Skip. It was something so -damned big it stripped him of his orientation as a human being."</p> - -<p>"The films show him assuming a foetal position. That what you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Well—basically this kind of regression is a denial of responsibility. -'I'm not a man,' he says. 'I'm just an unborn child. Take care of me.' -The individual wants no part of the problems and responsibilities of -adulthood. Harkins came out of that, or he never could have got the -ship back. But he couldn't face being a man. The only way he could -carry out his responsibilities, and survive, was to abolish the -category, man."</p> - -<p>Colin leaned back and sighed. "You know," he said thoughtfully, -"Harkins must be the loneliest human being that ever lived. God!"</p> - -<p>After a moment he looked up. "Ever read any Emerson?"</p> - -<p>"The philosopher Emerson? No, not much. Some maybe, when I was in -college. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing in particular. I was just thinking of an essay of his on -Nature."</p> - -<p>"No, haven't read it. Well," he continued, standing, "where do we go -from here?"</p> - -<p>"More of the same, I'm afraid. We have to find out what he saw. What -was so—immense, that it could make a man deny the existence of other -men."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Night came to Gila Base IV; the second night after the <i>Phoenix I</i>'s -landing. Darkness climbed out of the eastern hills and spread itself -upward into the sky and across the plane of the desert. <i>Phoenix I</i> -was still on the landing pad, but its sides were hidden by a webwork -of gantries and scaffolding as base technicians clambered over it, -testing, checking, examining.</p> - -<p>Colin insisted on leaving the base, making the twenty-mile drive into -town and his home. Banning was too tired to argue about it. He gave the -psychiatrist a security gate-pass and went to bed in his own office.</p> - -<p>Colin's car buzzed down the wide concrete toward the little cluster of -lights that marked Gila City. He slowed when he reached the outskirts, -watching the blue glare of the overhead sodium lamps slide along the -hood and up over the windshield.</p> - -<p>Reaching his apartment, he flicked on the lights and went in. It was a -single room, two walls covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases; there -was a desk, one overstuffed chair. Automatically his eyes swept the -room with the questioning glance of a man returning home; they lingered -apprehensively on the neat stack of unopened mail the cleaning woman -had put on the exact corner of the desk. He sighed. No matter how -preoccupied a man got, the rest of the world went on just the same.</p> - -<p>He went into the little kitchenette and made himself a cup of instant -coffee, returned to the main room stirring it absently. He seated -himself heavily in the overstuffed chair.</p> - -<p>Struck by a sudden thought, he put the coffee down on the edge of his -desk and went over to one book-wall. He scanned the multi-colored -spines until he found the thin paperback he was looking for. He took it -down and went back to the chair. "Nature," the cover said, "by Ralph -Waldo Emerson."</p> - -<p>Laying the little pamphlet open in his lap, he pulled pipe and tobacco -out of his jacket pocket, tamped the bowl full and lit it. He shifted -himself easily in the chair, settling himself.</p> - -<p><i>Our Age is retrospective</i>, the introduction began. <i>It builds the -sepulchers of the fathers....</i></p> - -<p>He read on, gliding over the familiar words with a pleasant sense of -acquaintanceship, the sense of sharing an idea with a respected friend.</p> - -<p><i>To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as -from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody -is with me.</i></p> - -<p>The next line of the essay made him sit up straight in the chair. He -read it over twice, then closed the pamphlet and carefully put it back -in the bookcase with a vague feeling of having been either betrayed or -helped, he couldn't tell which.</p> - -<p>As he was turning out the lights to go to bed, his com buzzed. -Answering it, he recognized the voice of Banning's secretary.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Meany, can you get back to the base right away? Something's -happened."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Colin snapped.</p> - -<p>"The Colonel has gotten back into <i>Phoenix I</i>."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"... understand exactly <i>how</i> it happened," Banning said. "He seemed to -be sleeping peacefully, and one of the men went in the room to take out -his garbage, for Christ's sake. When the door opened, he made a dash -for it."</p> - -<p>The two men stood in the control room before the wide window-wall -looking out on the landing pad. <i>Phoenix I</i>, still surrounded by -scaffolding, was brightly lit in the glaring beams of a dozen -searchlights playing from the Gila Base buildings and trucks on the -field.</p> - -<p>"Can he take it off?" Colin asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't think so," Banning said. "Sergeant, is there fuel in those -tanks?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said one of the men in the group that crowded in front of -the window. "But the feed valve is off. It can't get into the firing -chambers."</p> - -<p>"What would happen if he tried?" Colin asked.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," Banning said. "It wouldn't fire. Unless—unless he didn't -pay any attention to the board, and left his hotpoints on after he saw -it wouldn't fire."</p> - -<p>"What are hotpoints?"</p> - -<p>"The ignition elements. They'd melt down under continuous heating -and—well, then we wouldn't have any more problem. The tanks would go."</p> - -<p>"You'd better clear the field," Colin said quietly after a minute. -"Sergeant," he said to the radioman, "would you give the <i>Phoenix</i> a -'message coming' beep?"</p> - -<p>The radioman did, then said to Colin, "Go ahead."</p> - -<p>"Is he receiving?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Colonel Harkins," Colin said. "Colonel Harkins, can you hear me?"</p> - -<p>The loudspeakers buzzed.</p> - -<p>"Colonel Harkins, please reply."</p> - -<p>The speakers snapped once. The sound of Harkins' whistle came over, -loud at first, then drifting away. He was whistling the same tune as -before.</p> - -<p>"... <i>had a true wife but I left her, oh, oh, oh, oh</i> ..."</p> - -<p>"Do you want her back again?" Banning asked, recognizing the melody.</p> - -<p>"Colonel Harkins, please reply," Colin said. Switching the mike off, -he turned to Banning. "Better get her," he said. "We may have to go -through the whole thing again."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It took twelve minutes by the control clock before they heard the door -of the room open, and the light tapping of Martha Harkins' feet. -Banning and Colin turned away from the window to greet her.</p> - -<p>Suddenly their shadows were thrown violently ahead of them, leaping -across the floor and up the opposite wall like frightened animals -trying to escape.</p> - -<p>They swung back to the window, their words of greeting still unspoken. -For perhaps a half second they could make out the upper part of -<i>Phoenix I</i>, standing above the ugly glare like the nose of a whale -thrusting up through a sea of boiling flame. Then it disappeared, and -the fire-ball climbed suddenly into the night sky, rolling and twisting -in on itself. A gantry tipped and fell out of the flame with ponderous -slowness, twisted and melted before it crashed to the pad. Then the -unbearable glare died, and the searchlights played on an opaque black -column of smoke, redly lit from within, standing where <i>Phoenix I</i> had -stood.</p> - -<p>The roar that shook the building seemed to come much too late.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Colin slumped disconsolately in the control room, staring blankly out -at the clusters of beetle-like trucks clustered around the landing -pad, with their feathery antennae caressing the stack of still-burning -wreckage. Washed down by the foam trucks, the fire would soon be out. -But there would be little advantage to it, except to clear the pad.</p> - -<p>"How's Mrs. Harkins?" he asked without turning as he heard footsteps -behind him.</p> - -<p>"Under sedation," General Banning said. He came to stand beside -the psychiatrist, looked with him at the firecrew's activity, so -disorganized and insect-like at a distance.</p> - -<p>"They'll have it out pretty soon," he said unnecessarily.</p> - -<p>"Mm."</p> - -<p>Both men were silent. After a while, Colin tamped in fresh tobacco and -lit his pipe, sending up cottony puffs of smoke.</p> - -<p>"What do we do now?" he said absently.</p> - -<p>General Banning sighed.</p> - -<p>"See that hangar?" he asked, gesturing to a tall building perhaps a -quarter mile away down the edge of the field.</p> - -<p>Colin nodded.</p> - -<p>"<i>Phoenix II</i>," the General said, and his voice was flat and -expressionless.</p> - -<p>"Send another man into it, knowing no more than we know?"</p> - -<p>"We have to know," Banning said. "Men have died before without as good -reason."</p> - -<p>"I'm going home. Call me if you need me."</p> - -<p>Colin stood, and the general made a silent gesture of helplessness. -They wouldn't need him. Not until <i>Phoenix II</i> came home. Then they -would need him.</p> - -<p>Colin spoke, quietly, as if thinking of something else.</p> - -<p>"I didn't hear you," Banning said.</p> - -<p>"Quoting Emerson. The essay on Nature I mentioned."</p> - -<p>"What did he say?"</p> - -<p>"'But if a man would be alone,'" Colin quoted, "'let him look at the -stars.' Good night, General."</p> - -<p>"Good night."</p> - -<p>Colin walked outside into the cold desert air. The night was clear and -crisp, and the Milky Way hurled itself like a mass of vapor across the -sky.</p> - -<p>... <i>if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars</i> ...</p> - -<p>He looked up, and was alone in the night.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man Alone, by Don Berry - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAN ALONE *** - -***** This file should be named 60591-h.htm or 60591-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/5/9/60591/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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