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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..8994de0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68842 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68842) diff --git a/old/68842-0.txt b/old/68842-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c060bdc..0000000 --- a/old/68842-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1411 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The penultimate trump, by R. C. W. -Ettinger - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The penultimate trump - -Author: R. C. W. Ettinger - -Release Date: August 26, 2022 [eBook #68842] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PENULTIMATE TRUMP *** - - - - - - The Penultimate Trump - - By R. C. W. ETTINGER - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Startling Stories, March 1948. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Harley D. Haworth had been a doughty warrior in the American manner. -Many a powerful Wall Street foe had bowed to his strength and thousands -of innocent victims had cursed his name. But that was many a misty year -ago. - -Now even his son was an aged philanthropist and H.D. himself was -relegated almost to legend. But at ninety-two the old battler was -locked in his most desperate struggle, vainly trying with his failing -strength to beat off the grimmest, most relentless of all antagonists. - -If the man in the street ever heeded or mentioned this struggle, it was -to disinter a corny, dog-in-the-manger joke. - -"Old Harley D. Haworth," he would say patronizingly, "is such a guy--if -he can't take it with him, he just don't _go_." - -But he was going all right, battle by battle, losing his war. Not that -his forces were small--two billion greenbacked stalwarts comprised his -army. The resources of the planet were his. Only his generals, the -world's fanciest physicians, were incompetent to maneuver these forces -to advantage. - -They gave him gland extracts, they gave him vitamins, they gave -him blood transfusions. They gave him false teeth, eyeglasses, -arch-supports. They cut out his varicose veins, his appendix, one of -his kidneys. And in the end the learned doctors held a conference and -this was the sum of their wisdom--eat crackers-and-milk. - -At this juncture there was a shake-up in the high command. The new -Chief of Staff was not a physician but an engineer named Jones. - -"What man can imagine, man can do." So runs the optimistic saw. The -boy, Garibaldi Jones, had had firm faith in said saw, and imagined -himself a great lawyer and famous statesman. With the passage of time, -however, there gradually came to Garibaldi, as to many another before -and since, the suspicion whoever said that was kidding. - -Now Baldy Jones had long since conceded that _his_ imagination, at -least, far outran his capabilities. He had settled down, when he -realized he lacked the persuasive gift, to being a reasonably competent -mechanical engineer. - -An ordinary slip-stick jockey, that was the work-a-day -Jones. But sometimes, on a Sunday, Jones the -general-statesman-scientist-prophet-and-all-around-wiseacre would -hold forth from his armchair on life, love, art, literature, science, -religion, politics and various other manifestations of nature that are -dignified by names. - -On a certain portentous Sunday in the summer of 1947, about the time -the doctors were prescribing crackers-and-milk as a specific for senile -debility, Garry had found a particularly depressing article in his -Supplement. Goodwife Nancy was relaxed with the Women's Section. - -Garry wiped the perspiration from his gleaming head of skin and -proceeded to her instruction. - -"Listen, dear, it says here some scientist thinks the human race is -going to be wiped out. It's too dumb to survive, or too smart. I think -that's crazy but he's got a lot of points. Listen, he says-- - -"'To date there has been no indication whatever of any barrier to the -indefinite extension of the frontiers of science. It is breath-taking -to think what this means. It means that so far as we know the -scientific method is capable of carrying humanity to any conceivable -heights and beyond.'" - -"Garry, stop talking so loud and let me read this, 'Fun With -Fish--Hints for the Hurried Housewife.' You're always saying, 'Give me -something different.' Science. What do I know about science?" - -"You should know something beyond the kitchen. Listen--'But reflection -turns hope to alarm, with this thought--In the vast and ancient -universe surely some races must have had time already to attain godlike -power and yet they have not manifested themselves. Many answers are -offered to this riddle, but none very satisfactory.'" - -"Garry, will you be quiet?" - - * * * * * - -Nancy's question was sharp. "I will not," said Garry. "'One answer -is that our civilization is very young, and the hypothetical -super-civilization somewhere just hasn't found us yet. But that is a -contradiction in terms, because it takes most of the "super" out of the -super-civilization, considering that a technological culture advances -on an exponential curve.'" - -"Garry, are you going to let me read in peace?" - -"I am not," said Garry. "'Another is that a super-civilization would -have advanced beyond any concern about us or our petty problems. This -is an uneasy possibility, but rather thin for this reason-- - -"'From all indications our mastery of the physical world is proceeding -much faster than our mental evolution, and while this condition may -change I am inclined to think we would be flitting about the galaxy -before we would have lost our humanity.'" - -"Garibaldi Jones, if you don't stop with that crazy stuff I'll go out -of my _mind_!" - -"You will not," said Garry remorselessly. "'We are thus led to the -proposition that there is no super-civilization and to the corollary -that intelligence, at least technological intelligence, has no survival -value. This is a sobering thought, and we ask-- - -"'Why? Aside from metaphysical hypotheses vain to pursue, there is one -outstanding answer. Someone, someday, will find a chain reaction for -one of the light elements like oxygen and silicon, or perhaps some -other even deadlier agent will be loosed upon the world--for as science -progresses more and more power is more and more often concentrated in -fewer and fewer hands.'" - -"Garry, do you intend to _ever_ stop talking?" - -"I do not," said Garry. "'There is, sadly, no indication of an -abatement of the spirit of irresponsibility that has kept the world, -especially in recent years, in turmoil, at war or in fear of war. - -"'The only real remedy, perhaps, is fear of God, but the materialist -knows that when he dies his rotting carcass is beyond punishment, -beyond hope, beyond recall. Thus the only restraint on beastliness is -the ineffectual one of conscience, and in consequence--'" - -"_Why_ beyond recall?" interrupted Nancy, surprisingly. - -"What?" - -"Well, if science can do anything, like he says, why can't they -bring the dead people back some day? Now you just read that tripe to -yourself, if that 'scientist' knew anything he wouldn't have to write -for trashy Sunday Supplements, and let me read in peace, _do you hear -me_?" - -"How can I help it?" muttered Garry, who had already conceived the germ -of a notion. - -The notion grew into an idea, and the idea hardened into a resolve. -And in the natural course of events he went to H.D. Haworth with his -proposition and there was a meeting of minds. - -But a third talent was needed for their project, and the logical -candidate was Ellsworth Stevens, M.D., Ph.D. - -The seduction of Ellsworth Stevens made a temporary stir in certain -lofty circles, shocking all but the most cynical. - -A brilliant bio-chemist, a few months previously Stevens had reported -some attempts at suspending animation in mammals by a method involving -preliminary partial dehydration of the living tissue through -starvation, followed by freezing. - -The technique exploited the newly-discovered tendency of very minute -quantities of radioactive phosphorus in certain phospholipids to -counteract the degenerative anti-gelation effect of low temperatures on -the colloidal phases of protoplasm. - -He had not succeeded in reviving any of the animals, since none of -the nerve tissue had lived through the freezing, but results had -been nonetheless promising. Now Stevens was employed by the Cancer -Institute, consecrated to this most important work. - -Until one evening a Tempter called at his modest home. His name, of -course, was Jones. - -"Dr. Stevens," said Garry, "I want you to quit your job and go back to -work on suspended animation." - -Stevens blinked rapidly behind his bifocals and smiled deprecatingly. - -"Well, Mr. Jones, I could hardly do that. You see, I've been doing some -work with radioactive tracers and I'm beginning to get significant -results. Can't very well quit now, can I? That other matter isn't very -important--I hardly think it could be done, anyway." - -"Dr. Stevens," said Garry, "the Cancer Institute doesn't pay you very -much. You have a daughter who is getting to the age where she would -like to be dressed up. I will give you a ten year contract at ten -thousand dollars a years." - -"Mr. Jones, do you realize that cancer is responsible for more deaths -than any other ailment except heart disease? Maybe I sound sentimental -but I actually think of myself as taking an important part in the -world's greatest crusade." - -"Dr. Stevens, I will give you a ten year contract at one hundred -thousand dollars a year." - -Blankness in the shy, blinking eyes, then mounting anger. "Look, you, -who the heck d'you think you're kidding? If you--" - -"Dr. Stevens," Garry said hastily--an enraged sheep is an appalling -spectacle--"I have a power of attorney from Harley D. Haworth." -Ellsworth Stevens gaped like a fish, and was pure no more. - - * * * * * - -The Pacific lay stagnant, having decided it was too hot a day to do -anything except evaporate. But there was the suggestion of a breeze -in the garden and ample shade for three men. The dried-up little old -man was speaking, and the big bald man and the lean bespectacled man -listened with respectful attention. - -"I'm a hard-headed business man, and I'm not easy to fool, as many -a smart-aleck's learned, hrumph! It would surprise you the number -of quacks that try to sell me miracle water and yoga systems and -such-like. Blasted parasites! - -"But I know a good investment when I see one," the thin, complaining -voice went on, "and you gentlemen have a sound idea." He paused -benevolently to let them look gratified. - -_This is ridiculous_, thought Gary, _the old boy's a caricature._ - -"A sound idea--don't depend on these pill-rolling fools that call -themselves doctors nowadays to keep you hanging around a year or two -more, but just go to sleep in a nice refrigerator until people _really_ -know something about the body." He shook a bony forefinger. - -"And they'll do it, too. I don't believe in much, but I believe in -science. It will take a lot of money, but that's what I've got. And -you can have all you need, Mr. Jones, all you need, as I've told you -before. Blank check. You came to the right man when you came to H.D. -Haworth." He sank back into his nylon deck chair, exhausted by the long -speech. - -Garry seized the opportunity to air some of his ideas. He was all -enthusiasm. - -"We'll put the vault in Michigan, Mr. Haworth, not here in -California--too many earthquakes. Might be a long time before they know -enough about bio-chemistry to revive a dead man and restore his youth. -Not that you'll be dead," he amended hastily, "just in a state of -suspended animation. I'm sure Dr. Stevens can work _that_ out. - -"Anyway, we'd better put the vault in Michigan--very safe country, -geologically. We'll make the vault and the coolers of the very best, -of course, granite and stainless steel and quartz that will never wear -out. And then," he added, coyly, "I have a little idea for a power -plant that will be really _dependable_, if I _am_ the one that says it." - -"It better be!" snapped H.D., suddenly ferocious. - -"Yes--of course. There's the problem of keeping everything secret but -I'm sure we can manage it. The workers won't know what they're doing, -Dr. Stevens, and I can do all the really technical work. And there'll -be only one trustee each generation to keep his eye on things, starting -with me." - -Stevens was leaning forward, wearing a somewhat bewildered expression. - -"But I thought--but surely after we demonstrate that suspended -animation is feasible and we've verified our results, we'll publish?" -Seeing the odd-faces the other two were pulling, he repeated -plaintively, "I always publish." - -H.D. Haworth pronounced a certain four-letter word. Garibaldi -Jones cast his eyes to the heavens and tore his hair, coming away -empty-handed, of course. - -"Well, what's wrong with that?" Stevens snapped, a little color in his -face. "Don't the people have a right to know?" - -"Young man," quavered H.D., tottering to his feet and shaking the bony -forefinger, "what you know about people I could stick in my--" - -"Wait a minute, Mr. Haworth," Garry soothed. "Let me explain to Dr. -Stevens how it is. Please don't excite yourself. Remember," he coaxed, -"we don't want a heart attack _now_, do we?" The old man collapsed into -his chair with a feeble curse. - -"Look, Ellsworth, old man," Garry said kindly. "The last thing in -the world we want to do is keep anything from humanity. _You_ know -Mr. Haworth is the biggest philanthropist in the world. But in this -case--well, it's dangerous. - -"What do you think would happen if people found out a few rich men were -sleeping in quartz coolers while they had nothing but mouldy graves to -look forward to? Why, man, they'd tear our vault down with their bare -hands!" - -H.D. was nodding, muttering something about blasted riff-raff, but -Garry saw Stevens' look of contempt. - -"But that's not the main thing," he said hastily. "It wouldn't be good -for the country--in fact the world couldn't stand it. Once people were -convinced, everybody would demand a frigidaire instead of a coffin. -Not many could be made and people would plot and steal and kill to get -theirs and religious people would fight against it. - -"There'd be fakers and stock promotions all over. The nation's economy -would be wrecked. People would take their money with them or leave it -as savings at compound interest while they slept for a few centuries. -Think of the harm it would do, man--think of the people who are happy -now, whose lives would be embittered with vain hopes!" - - * * * * * - -Haworth's head was bobbing on his scrawny neck. "That's right, young -fellow, and that ain't the half of it!" He cackled. "Almost like to get -a finger in that pie myself. - -"The insurance companies would be the ones for it, of course. -Twenty-year endowment and, instead of paying you, they pickle you. But -it's too risky, too risky--you see that, don't you, my boy?" - -Stevens sighed unhappily. "I suppose so," he said, defeated. - -"Good, good!" Garry boomed, rubbing his hands briskly. "I knew Dr. -Stevens would see the point. He has a head on his shoulders. - -"Now, as I was saying, Mr. Haworth, we'll have space in the vault -for a hundred or so. That should be enough, I think, but we'll rush -yours through first, of course, and have it ready in jig time, just in -_case_.... And after that...." - -And so their plans were laid and something new was born under that sun -which shone with such ridiculous indiscrimination on H.D. Haworth and -on the common people. - -According to the outline sketched that afternoon, the vault was -to be safeguarded and the sleepers' interests looked after by the -establishment of a Haworth Trust, with Garibaldi Jones the first -Administrator. Only one person in each generation, the Administrator, -would know all about the vault. - -Of each generation the Administrator and one or two of his closest -relatives would join the ranks of the sleepers. The Administrator's -responsibilities and discretion would include all measures necessary -for the safety of the sleepers and the trust funds would be ample, to -allow for unforeseen future contingencies. - -A number of experimental animals closely duplicating H.D.'s condition -would be included for the future biologists first to try their skill -on--because if Stevens should not perfect a practicable method of -suspending animation in time, and H.D. should actually die, his -resuscitation would be a ticklish matter. - -H.D. did not want to wake up blind, for instance, or with an altered -personality--although Stevens, for one, thought _any_ change in the -old pirate's personality would be a step in the right direction. -The blasted Washington administration wouldn't let a citizen buy -radioactives without a lot of busybody questions, but Garry had an idea -for a reliable source of power for the coolers. - -An improvement on the new "heat pumps," his design dispensed entirely -with moving parts, providing a large safety factor. Successfully -reversing the refrigeration cycle, the device utilized the heat -potential between sub-frost level ground and surface to produce power, -using buried coils of a common refrigerant gas. - -Caches of treasure were to be tucked away in unlikely places, the key -to their location securely hidden in H.D.'s mind. No Tut-ankh-amen he, -to invite grave-robbers by foolish ostentation. - -And so it came to pass, and H.D.'s last months, despite the physical -pain his increasing debilitation caused him, were light-hearted ones. - -He was sustained by the bubbling knowledge that he tottered down life's -highway toward--not that great, silent abyss that the common folk's -imagination called Heaven or Hell and peopled with childish gods and -demons anxiously waiting to take him to task for his many "sins"--but -merely a bend in the road beyond which lay unknown, but surely -friendly, lands. - -In course of time Harley D. Haworth was carefully laid away in his -ice-cold "coffin," and those who read the obituaries did not suspect -that he was the first of men to die a qualified death. - - * * * * * - -He lay on his back, staring at the white ceiling--it had not occurred -to him yet to move. His uncoördinated muscles left his face blank but -he was frowning mentally. There was something he wanted to remember, -something.... - -He struggled laboriously to pin down those elusive shapes, but the -_words_ wouldn't come. It's hard to think when the words won't come. -His eyes sharpened their focus a little and he perceived that he was in -_bed_. _Hospital_, he thought clearly, _I'm in a hospital, of course._ - -He felt more and more secure now and, after a moment's relaxation, -tried again to remember. - -A man's voice said clearly, "What am I?" - -A feminine voice said pleasantly, "You're a man, and your name is -Haworth. Feeling all right?" - -Thousands of little relays clicked in H.D.'s brain and he sat up -quickly. This room was white and windowless, but it was not the vault -in Michigan--and that tall, clear-eyed brownette with the grave eyes -and tender lips was certainly not Dr. Stevens. - -The man's voice said, "I guess so," and this time H.D. realized that -_he_ had spoken. The blood rushed to his head and pounded in his ears, -for it had been a strong, _young_ voice. - -He ripped away the sheet that covered him, careless of his nakedness, -and it was true. - -These limbs were firmly rounded, the smooth skin pink with the warm -blood coursing beneath. His wildest hopes were realized. He snatched -the mirror smilingly proffered him and there it was, that face of youth -once lost to faded photographs! Then a great wave swept in with a -rush, a roar, a dazzling sparkle of spray. - -He emerged from his faint to find the head of his bed elevated, the -woman in white holding his wrist to count his pulse. _Well, this is -it_, H.D. thought jubilantly, _it actually panned out. I did it, I did -it!_ - -Now to plunge into the great adventure--millions of questions to ask, -millions of things to do--a new world to conquer. H.D. rubbed his hands -briskly together in his habitual getting-down-to-business gesture. - -Loosing his hand, the brownette looked up from her watch. Her eyes were -dark blue, and.... - -Bells rang in the back of H.D.'s head, his skin tingled and he forgot -what he wanted to say. Her faint, sweet perfume was in his nostrils; a -long-forgotten stimulus performed its ancient function. Being a direct -man by nature and training, H.D. decided that the shortest distance -between two points was to seize this delicious creature. Without more -ado he lunged. - -But she had stepped back, shaking her head and smiling reprovingly, and -H.D. almost fell out of bed. He recovered and collected himself, and -laughed to show that he was a good sport. - -"Oh, well, more important things to think of now, anyway--or _are_ -there more important things? Well, get me some clothes and call the -head man around here, and I'll look you up later, Miss...." - -"Lorraine, _Dr._ Lorraine. I'll get you some pajamas--here they -are--and you won't see the Supervisor unless you show some pretty -unusual symptoms. He's a busy man and I'm a married woman." - -H.D. sputtered. - -"Now really, Mr. Haworth, I'm not just being mean. You have to stay -here under observation for three days as a final check before you're -sent to--well, and the supervisor doesn't speak English anyway. I'm the -only one here at the hospital that does, which is why I'm here. Now -there'll be some nice lunch for you in a few minutes, so relax like a -good boy and--" - -H.D. exploded. "Young woman," he shouted, "_Doctor_ young woman, as you -value your job, I demand to see the person in charge!" He practically -foamed. "Boy indeed! I am Harley D. Haworth and I am ninety-four years -old--and then some," he added thoughtfully. - -"Three hundred and twenty years in the vault and two years we've been -working on you," Dr. Lorraine said helpfully. - -"Eh? Yes. Well, get me--" - -"No," she said very firmly. "You've had enough excitement for the first -time in so long. When you've had a nice lunch and a nice nap I'll talk -to you again, although you won't really find out very much until you go -to--" - -A door had opened and shut, and a huge male orderly came in pushing a -metal cabinet. The orderly and Dr. Lorraine exchanged a few words that -H.D. could identify with no language, although the sounds were easy and -musical--a little like Hawaiian, perhaps. - -"What's that?" H.D. asked suspiciously. "Where are we?" - -"Why, we're in Chicago. Oh, the language--Hominine, we call it. It -was adopted only about fifty years after you died, at the time of the -Union, when the U.S. sort of took over the world and a universal -language became necessary." The orderly had gone out, and she set a -dish before H.D. on a sliding bed-tray. "Here, eat your lunch while -it's hot." - -H.D. let out a yelp. "Lunch! A plate of soup! Woman, I'm hungry! -Haven't had a bite for three hundred twenty-two years!" - -"That's just why you must go easy for a bit. Here's your spoon. Now, -doesn't it smell good?" - -It did, and H.D. grumblingly took some. It tasted good, too--beefy--and -he went at it. Between slurps he tried to get a little more -information. "You say the U.S. conquered the world fifty years after I -died?" - -"Oh, no! Just absorbed it, you might say. You had something to do with -that in a way." - -"Eh? How's that?" - -"Well, your idea of putting yourself on ice to wait for better times -gradually got around and, after awhile, it got pretty common in the -States. The insurance companies did most of it. But they couldn't do it -in Europe, being, _you_ know, bureaucratic and half decayed and all, -and so poor from all the wars. Couldn't afford it. Guess I'm not much -of a historian." - -Snort from H.D. - -"Oh, eat your soup! Well, it got hard for the European leaders to -keep their people satisfied with their poverty but there were still -plenty of ugly things here they could point to. Then Farbenstein came -along with his Probe, and the Constitution was amended to adopt the -Ascension Code--and a lot of things changed." - - * * * * * - -By this time H.D. had finished his soup, and Dr. Lorraine took his -plate away and flipped the switch above him that lowered the head of -his bed. H.D. objected testily. - -"I don't _want_ to lie down! Quit that, will you. What about this -confounded Code?" - -The doctor shook her head. "Sorry, it's time for your nap now." - -"_Nap!_ Are you out of your mind? Millions of questions! I'm not the -least bit sleepy!" This was a lie. There must have been something in -the soup, because his eyelids were becoming very, very heavy. - -"Well, you can't argue with a woman," he complained peevishly. "Who -ever heard of a woman doctor--a pretty woman doctor...?" - -Dr. Lorraine did something to a lever, and the room darkened. - -H.D. awoke refreshed and full of vigor, the conversation with Dr. -Lorraine fresh and clear in his mind. He jumped out of bed, and -stumbled, cursing, around in the dark until he finally figured out -where the light would be. - -He pushed a lever above the head of his bed, the first of several in a -panel, and light filled the room, varying in strength with the position -of the lever. He did not see the source. - -The room was unremarkable in appearance, although he could not identify -the smooth, creamy, _soft_ material of the walls. Of two doors the -outer, to his cursing disgust, was locked. The other opened into a -Rube Goldberg bathroom. After admiring the array of buttons, switches, -cranes and slings, after a little cautious experimentation, H.D. saw -that the design was intended to permit cripples the luxury of a real -bath and toilet. - -Wandering back into the bedroom, he idly fiddled with the other levers -in the wall panel with no perceptible results until the last. Then the -entire end wall vanished and he was looking at Chicago. - -At where Chicago should have been, at any rate--he could hardly have -said what he expected but what he saw was merely a jungle. From what -seemed a considerable height he could make out little detail in the -mass of growing things. - -He could see no other tall buildings, but he was looking toward the -lake and his view was limited. As he strained his eyes he could see a -little of bright winding paths, and graceful little houses buried in -greenery and blossom. No movement caught his eye. - -These people must conduct their business elsewhere, he -thought--underground, perhaps, leaving the surface for leisure and -recreation. Garden City indeed! Life must be pleasant here--and it -would soon be his! He fairly itched to make his mark on this Brave New -World. - -He turned from his contemplation when he heard the door open. There was -that woman, smiling and inquiring how he'd slept. He'd soon straighten -her out. - -"Dr. Lorraine," he said grimly, "why was I locked in?" - -The smile faded just a little. "Three days observation, remember?" - -H.D. was patient. "Look," he said carefully, "I don't think you quite -understand. I'm H.D. Haworth. From the little you've said I gather -there's been no Bolshevik revolution, common sense be praised, so the -Haworth Trust must be worth hundreds of millions. You still use money, -don't you?" - -She nodded slowly. - -"And I have millions hidden away where no one can ever find them but -myself--don't think I came an empty-handed beggar, even if something -happened to the Trust funds. Millions, I tell you--gold and jewels, -rare old books and art, everything of value. - -"And besides that I'm the oldest sleeper--what's the matter with you -people?" he demanded fretfully: "Don't you know what news is? Why am I -met by one insignificant woman doctor?" - -Dr. Lorraine did not seem put out by the upbraiding and this in itself -was subtly exasperating. It was her attitude, her air, in which -he sensed--sympathy, yes, and a sort of embarrassment. He did not -understand it but it was absolutely offensive! - -"Well," H.D. snarled, beside himself, "confound it, woman, say -something!" - -"Three days observation," said Dr. Lorraine, almost stupidly. Then she -visibly readjusted the mantle of her professional cheerfulness and -spoke briskly. - -"It won't be so bad. I'll be making tests every day and that will pass -the time and you can play the 'visor." She went over to his bedside -table and pulled out the drawer holding the instrument. - -"I hate radios," H.D. said sullenly. "I'd like to jam every one down -Marconi's throat, first breaking the tubes. Confounded trashy programs, -changing every five minutes!" - -"Is that how they were? How awful for you! See, you just dial, like -this, and one station has nothing but dance music, another nothing but -Jimmurian dissonances. See? Anything you like. - -"And if you first dial "0" you can then dial for any number or any -entire program that's ever been recorded. Here's the index. Too bad we -don't have one in English." - -H.D. yielded a snicker. "Where's the screen?" he asked, slightly -mollified. - -"Oh. I did say 'visor,' didn't I? Well, you see, this is a modified -visor. No visual, no talking programs, just music. It's too bad, in -a way, but we had to have you here for some of the tests. This is a -neuro-psychiatric ward, you see. Yes, soft walls and all. It can be -stripped down for violents." - -H.D. showed signs of becoming that way himself and the doctor smilingly -stepped to the door and opened it. - -"See you tomorrow." - -"_Wait!_" H.D. roared. "What happens then? What--" - -"Three days observation." She nodded, and the door was closing. He -reached it in a bound but the lock clicked first. - - * * * * * - -Late in the afternoon of the third of those maddening days that -loathsome woman--the part of her that wasn't phonograph must have been -clam--brought him some clothes. And the word that she spoke as she -quietly left was music--Goodby. - -He vaguely remarked the clothes as he pulled them on--socks, thin-soled -shoes, a loosely draped one-piece garment of a closely woven sky-blue -material resembling silk but duller--a light cape of darker blue. Just -as he was appraising the quite satisfactory effect in the wall mirror a -sound turned him toward the door. - -They stood a little awkwardly in the doorway, pulling rather solemn -faces. The black-haired man, who would have been big by ordinary -standards, was mopping his red face in a nervous gesture and the -seven-foot giant who dwarfed him was stroking his platinum-blond beard. - -H.D. stared at the giant gape-mouthed. _He looks exactly like God, if -God were in the shape of a man_, he thought. - -Teeth flashed in a smile through the silvery brush and God said, -haltingly, "Hello, Grampaw." - -H.D. started violently. The black-haired man came forward with a -jovial, if forced, laugh and a deprecating wave of the hand. - -"You _are_ his grandfather, you know, Mr. Haworth. Fourteen times -removed, that is. He's the Administrator now. Don't you know me? Guess -the bird looks different with all this plumage, eh?" - -There was, at that, something familiar about this coarse, good-natured -fellow, something.... - -"Jones!" It was the delighted cry of a homesick sailor sighting the old -church steeple. - -"Garibaldi Jones! It's good to see you, man! When did they dig you up?" - -"About twenty years ago." Garry grinned. - -For a moment H.D. thought he discerned in his grin a trace of that -expression he had so come to hate in the last three days, that tinge of -something like embarrassment. Nonsense! - -He rushed on, "Now I'll find out about this new-fangled world and -pretty soon we'll set 'er by the ears. Once I get my...." - -The giant said something to Jones, who nodded uncomfortably. H.D. -frowned. - -"What's that? Why don't you speak English, Mr.--uh--Mr. Haworth? I -guess you're a Haworth?" The giant smiled politely. - -"He don't know any English, Mr. Haworth, except those words I taught -him. Guess you might as well call him Junior--same name as yours. He -says we better get going. Have to be in Washington by six. Your flyer's -waiting." - -_Your flyer!_ This was more like it. Well, after all, he was H.D. -Haworth, and they named demigods after him! In the exuberance of the -thought he forgot to ask why they had to go to Washington. He swirled -his cape about him and strode out. The demigod stepped aside for him. - -The corridor was a surprise. It was not merely long--it was shockingly -long. It must have been _miles_ long. And it was broad. A truck could -have easily passed and it was lined with doors and little signs in a -wavy lettering. No one seemed to be about. - -They hurried along, H.D. gawking to all sides, almost trotting as -Junior set the pace. At the great double door of an elevator shaft -Junior touched the signal button. - -Big--everything around here was _big_! The elevator could have -accommodated several pianos and the pretty red-head operating the lift -had to look down at H.D. She winked and made a laughing remark. - -"She says you're cute." - -H.D. did not know whether to be pleased or offended and before he could -decide the acceleration took his breath away. They went up, up, a -ridiculous distance, and at last he stepped out into another corridor. - -_Corridor!_ The floor must have been forty yards across and most of it -was moving, a series of horizontal escalators with three speeds in each -direction, adjacent strips moving at different speeds. - - * * * * * - -While H.D. stared, Junior and Garry Jones had stepped aboard the -nearest strip and were moving away. Now Jones came trotting back, -making little headway against the conveyor's motion. He had to chuckle. - -_In my country, said the queen, you have to run like the devil to stay -in the same place._ - -"Come on, Mr. Haworth," Garry called. H.D. waited for the next opening -in the rail to oppose him, took hold and stepped on. When he had come -up, Garry explained, "This is Chicago--this building--this is the whole -city, the business part, that is. This is one of the transport levels." - -"Hmm." The place didn't look right--too bare, too empty. "Where are the -stores? Where are the signs? Where are the people?" - -"Stores? Oh, this is just a garage. Working day's over. Just about -everybody's gone home." - -"Garage?" - -"Sure, for flyers--remember? Here we are." - -The door Junior unlocked let them into a space sufficiently garage-like -in its bareness, but the thirty feet of gold-and-crystal grace it -sheltered was a thing of beauty, enough to warm the cockles of any -limousine-lover's heart. As H.D. gave himself up to the upholstery's -caress he felt his old confidence return. - -[Illustration: The thirty feet of gold-and-crystal grace the garage -held was a thing of beauty.] - -The wall rolled away as Junior made some unperceived signal. With the -slightest of vibration the flyer wafted out into the shadowed evening. -As the wingless craft emerged into space H.D.'s hands instinctively -tightened their grip on the arms of his chair. Then he relaxed with a -smile. He looked around with appreciation, ready to accept each new -thrill with easy complacency. - -When the mounting flyer finally cleared the shadow of that Everest of -a building they must have been six thousand feet up. In the western -distance the dipping sun shed its fire on a doll's garden of patched -green, with here and there a spot of cheerful early autumn color. -_Charming_, he thought patronizingly, _charming!_ - -"Let's go down closer and have a good look at those suburbs," he -exclaimed on sudden impulse. - -Garry shook his head. "Too late. We'd never make it to Washington by -six." The flyer was gaining speed and altitude. - -"What's all this about Washington? What happens there?" - -Garry hesitated. "You have to take a trip, Mr. Haworth." - -H.D. leaned forward, unable to hear the last words. With their mounting -speed the whine of violated air was becoming a scream. Garry reached -back over Junior's shoulder and hit a toggle at the right end of the -instrument board. It was like shutting off a radio. - -He repeated, "You have to take a trip, Mr. Haworth." - -"Trip. By heaven, you're as mysterious as that woman. Why don't you -speak up? Well, never mind that." His eyes narrowed. "To whom does this -airship belong?" - -Garry sighed. "To you, Mr. Haworth." - -"Tell that oaf to turn around and go back." - -Garry sighed again and shook his head. "He won't, Mr. Haworth." The -flyer was arching through a dark swirling cumulus layer, still gaining -speed. - -H.D.'s jaw set hard. He gritted his words. - -"I don't know just what this is," he said slowly, "but I know this. You -won't get away with it. Nobody fools with me. I'll break you and that -great goon of a great-great-grandson. Money still counts here--that -woman said so." - -"Yes." - -"Yes. I suppose you know to whom the Haworth Trust reverts now?" - -"To you, Mr. Haworth." - -"Yes. And that means I'm one of the richest men in the world again." - -"No, sir." - -H.D.'s cold tone deepened. "What do you mean, no?" - -"Well, sir, times have changed, you might say." - -"Inflation!" H.D. exploded. - -"No, sir, none to speak of. You can still get a loaf of bread for a -quarter. It's just that the growth curve is pretty steep, and it gets -steeper all the time. Atomic energy, you know, and no wars for a long -time, and now no natural death. - -"You can get twelve percent on your money in a savings bank. It's -really an expanding economy. Why, Chicago alone is worth more in -dollars and cents than all the nations of earth in our time." - -H.D. reflected this. "Well, how much is the Trust worth?" - - * * * * * - -Garry exchanged a few words with Junior. "About thirty million, he -says." - -"_What!_" - -"Well," Garry hastened, "I know it isn't much for twenty million to -grow to after all this time, but there have been expenses! What we -had to spend for protection in the old days, when the mobs wanted to -dynamite the vault! - -"The sums that were spent on research to revive you! And then the -Administrator, Junior here, has to live up to the Haworth name and -that's expensive. He draws over a million a year." - -"Why, that thieving, white-whiskered pip-squeak, I'll sue him within an -inch of his life! I'll--" - -"Now, now, Mr. Haworth, you're still a wealthy man." - -H.D. glared. "Wealthy. Yes. And famous. The oldest Sleeper. Can't -understand why the newsmen haven't been after me. In my time--" - -"You're not news, sir. Look, Mr. Haworth, I have some rather unpleasant -things to tell you. I've been shirking it but I might as well tell you -now." - -H.D. shrugged off a faint twinge of apprehension and leaned back in his -seat. He looked out. The flyer was rocketing through clear air, high -above a sea of crimson cotton, no longer accelerating. - -He relaxed and permitted himself a smile. He had life, health, and -millions. The billions would come easily enough. Pah, what "unpleasant -things" could mar this paradise? - -"You did have some news value as the oldest and one of the deadest -Sleepers--but you've been thoroughly Probed out this last year." - -H.D. frowned impatiently. "What's this 'Probe' business? That woman -mentioned it, and some 'Code'." - -"The Farbenstein Probe," Garry said, looking thoughtfully out at the -darkling horizon, "is, in simple terms, a hypno-bio-physical technique -for reaching and interpreting buried memories. Your thoughts and -experiences are on file and the newsworthy ones have been published." - -H.D.'s mind refused to accept this horrible thought. He stared stupidly. - -"_No!_ It can't be!" he gasped. "It's--it isn't possible! It isn't -_decent_!" - -"Oh, not _all_ your thoughts," he explained quickly. "Just--well, I'd -better just tell you as well as I can about the Code." A very uneasy -feeling mounted in H.D.'s breast as Garry continued. - -"The Ascension Code made some basic changes in the conditions of -life. What it really did was take most of the irresponsibility out of -people's behavior. Because the freezatoria gave people hope that had no -faith in Heaven--so the Code gave them fear, that didn't fear God. The -Code put justice on a remorseless eye-for-an-eye basis." - -H.D.'s blood ran slowly cold. He repressed the thought, denied it, -rejected it, but in his heart he knew. His intuition had made the -connection. Garry noted his heavy breathing, and felt a stir of pity. -He continued, gazing out. - -"It's simple enough, in practise. Every fifty years each person -must submit to a Survey--and all Sleepers when they're revived. -By association techniques they're made, under the Probe, to admit -everything they've done that was wrong, either by their own conscience -or by the written law. - -"Then--well, you see--one outgrowth of the Probe is that _suffering_ -has been classified, qualitatively and quantitatively. Oh, it's -arbitrary on the edges, but not very, and where there's doubt there's -charity, of course. - -"After the Survey, if he's passed a certain allowable maximum in -wrongdoing, a person must go to--the penal colony and experience -himself all the suffering he has caused, qualitatively and -quantitatively as closely as possible." - -The question was only a whisper. "How long will I have to spend at -this--this place--where did you say?" - -"The penal colony? It's on the fourth planet. I guess we used to call -it Mars." He hesitated. "In your case, I'm afraid--well, they say you -hurt a lot of people." - -"It's ridiculous!" H.D. cried desperately. "It's barbaric! My word, -even in our time reasonable people knew that _revenge_ isn't -civilized, even against _criminals_. Can't they _rehabilitate_ people?" - -Garry grimaced, and spoke flatly, slowly. - -"'There is no known deterrent from harmfully selfish action except fear -of punishment. Nor can there be a healthy mind as long as there exists -a debt to conscience.' That's a translation from a schoolbook." - -H.D. sprawled in his chair like a poled ox. He recognized that he was -beaten. His eyes stared vacantly, he mumbled over and over, "They -can't, they can't." He did not notice the flyer's swooping deceleration. - - * * * * * - -Something was shining with a white light. They were hovering. H.D. -looked up absently, little interest in his eyes. A great long -cave-mouth yawned in the mountain that was Washington, bright in the -gathering dusk. - -"There's our signal." A green eye was blinking rapidly. Junior settled -the flyer in a curbed rectangle and H.D. had a moment to note the rows -of craft, the conveyors, the rows of brightly lettered doors in the -background. Then the door of the flyer opened and a gray-uniformed man -almost as big as Junior clambered in, carrying a little leather bag. - -H.D. watched in silence as the Administrator and the stranger exchanged -a few words and some sheaves of paper, to which each affixed a -signature. Then the man in gray opened his bag and, with the tools he -took out, began to do something to the flyer's instrument panel. He -whistled as he worked, a jazzy dance tune, and the sound grotesquely -accentuated the silence of the watching three. - -Jones stirred. "Well, here's where we get off, I guess." He stepped -down out of the flyer, Junior after him, but when H.D. mechanically -followed, the Administrator's bulk blocked the door. He was smiling -with polite embarrassment. - -"Move, you oaf!" H.D. snapped. - -"Sorry, Mr. Haworth," Garry said. "You're going on to ... the penal -colony." - -Red rage gripped H.D.; they were treating him like an animal, sending -him off like a bull to the packing house. He gripped the door-frame -with his hands, and in a quick motion set his foot against Junior's -chest. The giant sprawled backwards, and there was a satisfying thump -as his head struck the pavement. - -An iron hand gripped H.D.'s shoulder. The uniformed man's face was -completely indifferent, almost bored. He merely held H.D. until he -relaxed and sank shaking into a seat. Junior was on his feet, rubbing -his head, the oafish smile a little rueful now. - -The man in gray resumed his work and his whistling. It was intolerable. -Those two with their sympathetic silence, and this fellow with his -cheerful, loathsome whistling. He had to say something. - -"How's a little can like this able to get to another planet?" - -"Oh, we're pretty good engineers these days," Garry said eagerly. "Tell -you about it sometime. Well, the J-man's fixing your pilot signal now. -It'll fly on automatic. It ought to be pretty interesting, really, your -first space trip and all." - -H.D. scarcely heard him. The "J-man" had put his tools back in their -bag and was descending to the pavement. The door closed with a ringing -sound and the J-man was doing something to it from the outside. -Despairing, frustrated tears welled in H.D.'s eyes. His knuckles -whitened. - -A faint vibration stirred in the flyer and H.D. looked around in panic. -Going already? He felt horribly afraid. He had an impulse to claw the -walls. Garry caught his wild look and returned a glance of sympathy. -His lips moved, but no sound came. H.D. stared. Garry's lips moved -again, and he gestured. H.D. remembered then and hit the toggle. - -"... easy, Mr. Haworth." Garry's voice was as clear now as though he -spoke beside him. - -The flyer lifted gently and eased around in a 180-degree turn. The -last tints of evening glowed in the western sky, the earth was lost in -darkness and the first insolent stars were mocking him. - -Garry, on the other side now, called again. - -"Take it as it comes, Mr. Haworth. It won't last forever, even if it -seems like it. Son of a gun--said the wrong thing again, didn't I!" - -H.D. screamed, "Appeal! Appeal the case!" - -Garry sadly shook his head. "'There is no known deterrent from -harmfully selfish action except fear of punishment. Nor can there be a -healthy mind as long as there exists a debt to conscience.'" - -The flyer was easing out into the night, toward that red star of evil. - -"You say Mars isn't called Mars any more?" he called hoarsely, pressing -desperately against the hard crystal. - -"No," Garry called softly and the quiet words were still very clear. -"Now they call it Hell." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PENULTIMATE TRUMP *** - -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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C. W. Ettinger</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The penultimate trump</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: R. C. W. Ettinger</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 26, 2022 [eBook #68842]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PENULTIMATE TRUMP ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>The Penultimate Trump</h1> - -<h2>By R. C. W. ETTINGER</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Startling Stories, March 1948.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Harley D. Haworth had been a doughty warrior in the American manner. -Many a powerful Wall Street foe had bowed to his strength and thousands -of innocent victims had cursed his name. But that was many a misty year -ago.</p> - -<p>Now even his son was an aged philanthropist and H.D. himself was -relegated almost to legend. But at ninety-two the old battler was -locked in his most desperate struggle, vainly trying with his failing -strength to beat off the grimmest, most relentless of all antagonists.</p> - -<p>If the man in the street ever heeded or mentioned this struggle, it was -to disinter a corny, dog-in-the-manger joke.</p> - -<p>"Old Harley D. Haworth," he would say patronizingly, "is such a guy—if -he can't take it with him, he just don't <i>go</i>."</p> - -<p>But he was going all right, battle by battle, losing his war. Not that -his forces were small—two billion greenbacked stalwarts comprised his -army. The resources of the planet were his. Only his generals, the -world's fanciest physicians, were incompetent to maneuver these forces -to advantage.</p> - -<p>They gave him gland extracts, they gave him vitamins, they gave -him blood transfusions. They gave him false teeth, eyeglasses, -arch-supports. They cut out his varicose veins, his appendix, one of -his kidneys. And in the end the learned doctors held a conference and -this was the sum of their wisdom—eat crackers-and-milk.</p> - -<p>At this juncture there was a shake-up in the high command. The new -Chief of Staff was not a physician but an engineer named Jones.</p> - -<p>"What man can imagine, man can do." So runs the optimistic saw. The -boy, Garibaldi Jones, had had firm faith in said saw, and imagined -himself a great lawyer and famous statesman. With the passage of time, -however, there gradually came to Garibaldi, as to many another before -and since, the suspicion whoever said that was kidding.</p> - -<p>Now Baldy Jones had long since conceded that <i>his</i> imagination, at -least, far outran his capabilities. He had settled down, when he -realized he lacked the persuasive gift, to being a reasonably competent -mechanical engineer.</p> - -<p>An ordinary slip-stick jockey, that was the work-a-day -Jones. But sometimes, on a Sunday, Jones the -general-statesman-scientist-prophet-and-all-around-wiseacre would -hold forth from his armchair on life, love, art, literature, science, -religion, politics and various other manifestations of nature that are -dignified by names.</p> - -<p>On a certain portentous Sunday in the summer of 1947, about the time -the doctors were prescribing crackers-and-milk as a specific for senile -debility, Garry had found a particularly depressing article in his -Supplement. Goodwife Nancy was relaxed with the Women's Section.</p> - -<p>Garry wiped the perspiration from his gleaming head of skin and -proceeded to her instruction.</p> - -<p>"Listen, dear, it says here some scientist thinks the human race is -going to be wiped out. It's too dumb to survive, or too smart. I think -that's crazy but he's got a lot of points. Listen, he says—</p> - -<p>"'To date there has been no indication whatever of any barrier to the -indefinite extension of the frontiers of science. It is breath-taking -to think what this means. It means that so far as we know the -scientific method is capable of carrying humanity to any conceivable -heights and beyond.'"</p> - -<p>"Garry, stop talking so loud and let me read this, 'Fun With -Fish—Hints for the Hurried Housewife.' You're always saying, 'Give me -something different.' Science. What do I know about science?"</p> - -<p>"You should know something beyond the kitchen. Listen—'But reflection -turns hope to alarm, with this thought—In the vast and ancient -universe surely some races must have had time already to attain godlike -power and yet they have not manifested themselves. Many answers are -offered to this riddle, but none very satisfactory.'"</p> - -<p>"Garry, will you be quiet?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Nancy's question was sharp. "I will not," said Garry. "'One answer -is that our civilization is very young, and the hypothetical -super-civilization somewhere just hasn't found us yet. But that is a -contradiction in terms, because it takes most of the "super" out of the -super-civilization, considering that a technological culture advances -on an exponential curve.'"</p> - -<p>"Garry, are you going to let me read in peace?"</p> - -<p>"I am not," said Garry. "'Another is that a super-civilization would -have advanced beyond any concern about us or our petty problems. This -is an uneasy possibility, but rather thin for this reason—</p> - -<p>"'From all indications our mastery of the physical world is proceeding -much faster than our mental evolution, and while this condition may -change I am inclined to think we would be flitting about the galaxy -before we would have lost our humanity.'"</p> - -<p>"Garibaldi Jones, if you don't stop with that crazy stuff I'll go out -of my <i>mind</i>!"</p> - -<p>"You will not," said Garry remorselessly. "'We are thus led to the -proposition that there is no super-civilization and to the corollary -that intelligence, at least technological intelligence, has no survival -value. This is a sobering thought, and we ask—</p> - -<p>"'Why? Aside from metaphysical hypotheses vain to pursue, there is one -outstanding answer. Someone, someday, will find a chain reaction for -one of the light elements like oxygen and silicon, or perhaps some -other even deadlier agent will be loosed upon the world—for as science -progresses more and more power is more and more often concentrated in -fewer and fewer hands.'"</p> - -<p>"Garry, do you intend to <i>ever</i> stop talking?"</p> - -<p>"I do not," said Garry. "'There is, sadly, no indication of an -abatement of the spirit of irresponsibility that has kept the world, -especially in recent years, in turmoil, at war or in fear of war.</p> - -<p>"'The only real remedy, perhaps, is fear of God, but the materialist -knows that when he dies his rotting carcass is beyond punishment, -beyond hope, beyond recall. Thus the only restraint on beastliness is -the ineffectual one of conscience, and in consequence—'"</p> - -<p>"<i>Why</i> beyond recall?" interrupted Nancy, surprisingly.</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Well, if science can do anything, like he says, why can't they -bring the dead people back some day? Now you just read that tripe to -yourself, if that 'scientist' knew anything he wouldn't have to write -for trashy Sunday Supplements, and let me read in peace, <i>do you hear -me</i>?"</p> - -<p>"How can I help it?" muttered Garry, who had already conceived the germ -of a notion.</p> - -<p>The notion grew into an idea, and the idea hardened into a resolve. -And in the natural course of events he went to H.D. Haworth with his -proposition and there was a meeting of minds.</p> - -<p>But a third talent was needed for their project, and the logical -candidate was Ellsworth Stevens, M.D., Ph.D.</p> - -<p>The seduction of Ellsworth Stevens made a temporary stir in certain -lofty circles, shocking all but the most cynical.</p> - -<p>A brilliant bio-chemist, a few months previously Stevens had reported -some attempts at suspending animation in mammals by a method involving -preliminary partial dehydration of the living tissue through -starvation, followed by freezing.</p> - -<p>The technique exploited the newly-discovered tendency of very minute -quantities of radioactive phosphorus in certain phospholipids to -counteract the degenerative anti-gelation effect of low temperatures on -the colloidal phases of protoplasm.</p> - -<p>He had not succeeded in reviving any of the animals, since none of -the nerve tissue had lived through the freezing, but results had -been nonetheless promising. Now Stevens was employed by the Cancer -Institute, consecrated to this most important work.</p> - -<p>Until one evening a Tempter called at his modest home. His name, of -course, was Jones.</p> - -<p>"Dr. Stevens," said Garry, "I want you to quit your job and go back to -work on suspended animation."</p> - -<p>Stevens blinked rapidly behind his bifocals and smiled deprecatingly.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Jones, I could hardly do that. You see, I've been doing some -work with radioactive tracers and I'm beginning to get significant -results. Can't very well quit now, can I? That other matter isn't very -important—I hardly think it could be done, anyway."</p> - -<p>"Dr. Stevens," said Garry, "the Cancer Institute doesn't pay you very -much. You have a daughter who is getting to the age where she would -like to be dressed up. I will give you a ten year contract at ten -thousand dollars a years."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Jones, do you realize that cancer is responsible for more deaths -than any other ailment except heart disease? Maybe I sound sentimental -but I actually think of myself as taking an important part in the -world's greatest crusade."</p> - -<p>"Dr. Stevens, I will give you a ten year contract at one hundred -thousand dollars a year."</p> - -<p>Blankness in the shy, blinking eyes, then mounting anger. "Look, you, -who the heck d'you think you're kidding? If you—"</p> - -<p>"Dr. Stevens," Garry said hastily—an enraged sheep is an appalling -spectacle—"I have a power of attorney from Harley D. Haworth." -Ellsworth Stevens gaped like a fish, and was pure no more.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Pacific lay stagnant, having decided it was too hot a day to do -anything except evaporate. But there was the suggestion of a breeze -in the garden and ample shade for three men. The dried-up little old -man was speaking, and the big bald man and the lean bespectacled man -listened with respectful attention.</p> - -<p>"I'm a hard-headed business man, and I'm not easy to fool, as many -a smart-aleck's learned, hrumph! It would surprise you the number -of quacks that try to sell me miracle water and yoga systems and -such-like. Blasted parasites!</p> - -<p>"But I know a good investment when I see one," the thin, complaining -voice went on, "and you gentlemen have a sound idea." He paused -benevolently to let them look gratified.</p> - -<p><i>This is ridiculous</i>, thought Gary, <i>the old boy's a caricature.</i></p> - -<p>"A sound idea—don't depend on these pill-rolling fools that call -themselves doctors nowadays to keep you hanging around a year or two -more, but just go to sleep in a nice refrigerator until people <i>really</i> -know something about the body." He shook a bony forefinger.</p> - -<p>"And they'll do it, too. I don't believe in much, but I believe in -science. It will take a lot of money, but that's what I've got. And -you can have all you need, Mr. Jones, all you need, as I've told you -before. Blank check. You came to the right man when you came to H.D. -Haworth." He sank back into his nylon deck chair, exhausted by the long -speech.</p> - -<p>Garry seized the opportunity to air some of his ideas. He was all -enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"We'll put the vault in Michigan, Mr. Haworth, not here in -California—too many earthquakes. Might be a long time before they know -enough about bio-chemistry to revive a dead man and restore his youth. -Not that you'll be dead," he amended hastily, "just in a state of -suspended animation. I'm sure Dr. Stevens can work <i>that</i> out.</p> - -<p>"Anyway, we'd better put the vault in Michigan—very safe country, -geologically. We'll make the vault and the coolers of the very best, -of course, granite and stainless steel and quartz that will never wear -out. And then," he added, coyly, "I have a little idea for a power -plant that will be really <i>dependable</i>, if I <i>am</i> the one that says it."</p> - -<p>"It better be!" snapped H.D., suddenly ferocious.</p> - -<p>"Yes—of course. There's the problem of keeping everything secret but -I'm sure we can manage it. The workers won't know what they're doing, -Dr. Stevens, and I can do all the really technical work. And there'll -be only one trustee each generation to keep his eye on things, starting -with me."</p> - -<p>Stevens was leaning forward, wearing a somewhat bewildered expression.</p> - -<p>"But I thought—but surely after we demonstrate that suspended -animation is feasible and we've verified our results, we'll publish?" -Seeing the odd-faces the other two were pulling, he repeated -plaintively, "I always publish."</p> - -<p>H.D. Haworth pronounced a certain four-letter word. Garibaldi -Jones cast his eyes to the heavens and tore his hair, coming away -empty-handed, of course.</p> - -<p>"Well, what's wrong with that?" Stevens snapped, a little color in his -face. "Don't the people have a right to know?"</p> - -<p>"Young man," quavered H.D., tottering to his feet and shaking the bony -forefinger, "what you know about people I could stick in my—"</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, Mr. Haworth," Garry soothed. "Let me explain to Dr. -Stevens how it is. Please don't excite yourself. Remember," he coaxed, -"we don't want a heart attack <i>now</i>, do we?" The old man collapsed into -his chair with a feeble curse.</p> - -<p>"Look, Ellsworth, old man," Garry said kindly. "The last thing in -the world we want to do is keep anything from humanity. <i>You</i> know -Mr. Haworth is the biggest philanthropist in the world. But in this -case—well, it's dangerous.</p> - -<p>"What do you think would happen if people found out a few rich men were -sleeping in quartz coolers while they had nothing but mouldy graves to -look forward to? Why, man, they'd tear our vault down with their bare -hands!"</p> - -<p>H.D. was nodding, muttering something about blasted riff-raff, but -Garry saw Stevens' look of contempt.</p> - -<p>"But that's not the main thing," he said hastily. "It wouldn't be good -for the country—in fact the world couldn't stand it. Once people were -convinced, everybody would demand a frigidaire instead of a coffin. -Not many could be made and people would plot and steal and kill to get -theirs and religious people would fight against it.</p> - -<p>"There'd be fakers and stock promotions all over. The nation's economy -would be wrecked. People would take their money with them or leave it -as savings at compound interest while they slept for a few centuries. -Think of the harm it would do, man—think of the people who are happy -now, whose lives would be embittered with vain hopes!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Haworth's head was bobbing on his scrawny neck. "That's right, young -fellow, and that ain't the half of it!" He cackled. "Almost like to get -a finger in that pie myself.</p> - -<p>"The insurance companies would be the ones for it, of course. -Twenty-year endowment and, instead of paying you, they pickle you. But -it's too risky, too risky—you see that, don't you, my boy?"</p> - -<p>Stevens sighed unhappily. "I suppose so," he said, defeated.</p> - -<p>"Good, good!" Garry boomed, rubbing his hands briskly. "I knew Dr. -Stevens would see the point. He has a head on his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Now, as I was saying, Mr. Haworth, we'll have space in the vault -for a hundred or so. That should be enough, I think, but we'll rush -yours through first, of course, and have it ready in jig time, just in -<i>case</i>.... And after that...."</p> - -<p>And so their plans were laid and something new was born under that sun -which shone with such ridiculous indiscrimination on H.D. Haworth and -on the common people.</p> - -<p>According to the outline sketched that afternoon, the vault was -to be safeguarded and the sleepers' interests looked after by the -establishment of a Haworth Trust, with Garibaldi Jones the first -Administrator. Only one person in each generation, the Administrator, -would know all about the vault.</p> - -<p>Of each generation the Administrator and one or two of his closest -relatives would join the ranks of the sleepers. The Administrator's -responsibilities and discretion would include all measures necessary -for the safety of the sleepers and the trust funds would be ample, to -allow for unforeseen future contingencies.</p> - -<p>A number of experimental animals closely duplicating H.D.'s condition -would be included for the future biologists first to try their skill -on—because if Stevens should not perfect a practicable method of -suspending animation in time, and H.D. should actually die, his -resuscitation would be a ticklish matter.</p> - -<p>H.D. did not want to wake up blind, for instance, or with an altered -personality—although Stevens, for one, thought <i>any</i> change in the -old pirate's personality would be a step in the right direction. -The blasted Washington administration wouldn't let a citizen buy -radioactives without a lot of busybody questions, but Garry had an idea -for a reliable source of power for the coolers.</p> - -<p>An improvement on the new "heat pumps," his design dispensed entirely -with moving parts, providing a large safety factor. Successfully -reversing the refrigeration cycle, the device utilized the heat -potential between sub-frost level ground and surface to produce power, -using buried coils of a common refrigerant gas.</p> - -<p>Caches of treasure were to be tucked away in unlikely places, the key -to their location securely hidden in H.D.'s mind. No Tut-ankh-amen he, -to invite grave-robbers by foolish ostentation.</p> - -<p>And so it came to pass, and H.D.'s last months, despite the physical -pain his increasing debilitation caused him, were light-hearted ones.</p> - -<p>He was sustained by the bubbling knowledge that he tottered down life's -highway toward—not that great, silent abyss that the common folk's -imagination called Heaven or Hell and peopled with childish gods and -demons anxiously waiting to take him to task for his many "sins"—but -merely a bend in the road beyond which lay unknown, but surely -friendly, lands.</p> - -<p>In course of time Harley D. Haworth was carefully laid away in his -ice-cold "coffin," and those who read the obituaries did not suspect -that he was the first of men to die a qualified death.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He lay on his back, staring at the white ceiling—it had not occurred -to him yet to move. His uncoördinated muscles left his face blank but -he was frowning mentally. There was something he wanted to remember, -something....</p> - -<p>He struggled laboriously to pin down those elusive shapes, but the -<i>words</i> wouldn't come. It's hard to think when the words won't come. -His eyes sharpened their focus a little and he perceived that he was in -<i>bed</i>. <i>Hospital</i>, he thought clearly, <i>I'm in a hospital, of course.</i></p> - -<p>He felt more and more secure now and, after a moment's relaxation, -tried again to remember.</p> - -<p>A man's voice said clearly, "What am I?"</p> - -<p>A feminine voice said pleasantly, "You're a man, and your name is -Haworth. Feeling all right?"</p> - -<p>Thousands of little relays clicked in H.D.'s brain and he sat up -quickly. This room was white and windowless, but it was not the vault -in Michigan—and that tall, clear-eyed brownette with the grave eyes -and tender lips was certainly not Dr. Stevens.</p> - -<p>The man's voice said, "I guess so," and this time H.D. realized that -<i>he</i> had spoken. The blood rushed to his head and pounded in his ears, -for it had been a strong, <i>young</i> voice.</p> - -<p>He ripped away the sheet that covered him, careless of his nakedness, -and it was true.</p> - -<p>These limbs were firmly rounded, the smooth skin pink with the warm -blood coursing beneath. His wildest hopes were realized. He snatched -the mirror smilingly proffered him and there it was, that face of youth -once lost to faded photographs! Then a great wave swept in with a -rush, a roar, a dazzling sparkle of spray.</p> - -<p>He emerged from his faint to find the head of his bed elevated, the -woman in white holding his wrist to count his pulse. <i>Well, this is -it</i>, H.D. thought jubilantly, <i>it actually panned out. I did it, I did -it!</i></p> - -<p>Now to plunge into the great adventure—millions of questions to ask, -millions of things to do—a new world to conquer. H.D. rubbed his hands -briskly together in his habitual getting-down-to-business gesture.</p> - -<p>Loosing his hand, the brownette looked up from her watch. Her eyes were -dark blue, and....</p> - -<p>Bells rang in the back of H.D.'s head, his skin tingled and he forgot -what he wanted to say. Her faint, sweet perfume was in his nostrils; a -long-forgotten stimulus performed its ancient function. Being a direct -man by nature and training, H.D. decided that the shortest distance -between two points was to seize this delicious creature. Without more -ado he lunged.</p> - -<p>But she had stepped back, shaking her head and smiling reprovingly, and -H.D. almost fell out of bed. He recovered and collected himself, and -laughed to show that he was a good sport.</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, more important things to think of now, anyway—or <i>are</i> -there more important things? Well, get me some clothes and call the -head man around here, and I'll look you up later, Miss...."</p> - -<p>"Lorraine, <i>Dr.</i> Lorraine. I'll get you some pajamas—here they -are—and you won't see the Supervisor unless you show some pretty -unusual symptoms. He's a busy man and I'm a married woman."</p> - -<p>H.D. sputtered.</p> - -<p>"Now really, Mr. Haworth, I'm not just being mean. You have to stay -here under observation for three days as a final check before you're -sent to—well, and the supervisor doesn't speak English anyway. I'm the -only one here at the hospital that does, which is why I'm here. Now -there'll be some nice lunch for you in a few minutes, so relax like a -good boy and—"</p> - -<p>H.D. exploded. "Young woman," he shouted, "<i>Doctor</i> young woman, as you -value your job, I demand to see the person in charge!" He practically -foamed. "Boy indeed! I am Harley D. Haworth and I am ninety-four years -old—and then some," he added thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"Three hundred and twenty years in the vault and two years we've been -working on you," Dr. Lorraine said helpfully.</p> - -<p>"Eh? Yes. Well, get me—"</p> - -<p>"No," she said very firmly. "You've had enough excitement for the first -time in so long. When you've had a nice lunch and a nice nap I'll talk -to you again, although you won't really find out very much until you go -to—"</p> - -<p>A door had opened and shut, and a huge male orderly came in pushing a -metal cabinet. The orderly and Dr. Lorraine exchanged a few words that -H.D. could identify with no language, although the sounds were easy and -musical—a little like Hawaiian, perhaps.</p> - -<p>"What's that?" H.D. asked suspiciously. "Where are we?"</p> - -<p>"Why, we're in Chicago. Oh, the language—Hominine, we call it. It -was adopted only about fifty years after you died, at the time of the -Union, when the U.S. sort of took over the world and a universal -language became necessary." The orderly had gone out, and she set a -dish before H.D. on a sliding bed-tray. "Here, eat your lunch while -it's hot."</p> - -<p>H.D. let out a yelp. "Lunch! A plate of soup! Woman, I'm hungry! -Haven't had a bite for three hundred twenty-two years!"</p> - -<p>"That's just why you must go easy for a bit. Here's your spoon. Now, -doesn't it smell good?"</p> - -<p>It did, and H.D. grumblingly took some. It tasted good, too—beefy—and -he went at it. Between slurps he tried to get a little more -information. "You say the U.S. conquered the world fifty years after I -died?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! Just absorbed it, you might say. You had something to do with -that in a way."</p> - -<p>"Eh? How's that?"</p> - -<p>"Well, your idea of putting yourself on ice to wait for better times -gradually got around and, after awhile, it got pretty common in the -States. The insurance companies did most of it. But they couldn't do it -in Europe, being, <i>you</i> know, bureaucratic and half decayed and all, -and so poor from all the wars. Couldn't afford it. Guess I'm not much -of a historian."</p> - -<p>Snort from H.D.</p> - -<p>"Oh, eat your soup! Well, it got hard for the European leaders to -keep their people satisfied with their poverty but there were still -plenty of ugly things here they could point to. Then Farbenstein came -along with his Probe, and the Constitution was amended to adopt the -Ascension Code—and a lot of things changed."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>By this time H.D. had finished his soup, and Dr. Lorraine took his -plate away and flipped the switch above him that lowered the head of -his bed. H.D. objected testily.</p> - -<p>"I don't <i>want</i> to lie down! Quit that, will you. What about this -confounded Code?"</p> - -<p>The doctor shook her head. "Sorry, it's time for your nap now."</p> - -<p>"<i>Nap!</i> Are you out of your mind? Millions of questions! I'm not the -least bit sleepy!" This was a lie. There must have been something in -the soup, because his eyelids were becoming very, very heavy.</p> - -<p>"Well, you can't argue with a woman," he complained peevishly. "Who -ever heard of a woman doctor—a pretty woman doctor...?"</p> - -<p>Dr. Lorraine did something to a lever, and the room darkened.</p> - -<p>H.D. awoke refreshed and full of vigor, the conversation with Dr. -Lorraine fresh and clear in his mind. He jumped out of bed, and -stumbled, cursing, around in the dark until he finally figured out -where the light would be.</p> - -<p>He pushed a lever above the head of his bed, the first of several in a -panel, and light filled the room, varying in strength with the position -of the lever. He did not see the source.</p> - -<p>The room was unremarkable in appearance, although he could not identify -the smooth, creamy, <i>soft</i> material of the walls. Of two doors the -outer, to his cursing disgust, was locked. The other opened into a -Rube Goldberg bathroom. After admiring the array of buttons, switches, -cranes and slings, after a little cautious experimentation, H.D. saw -that the design was intended to permit cripples the luxury of a real -bath and toilet.</p> - -<p>Wandering back into the bedroom, he idly fiddled with the other levers -in the wall panel with no perceptible results until the last. Then the -entire end wall vanished and he was looking at Chicago.</p> - -<p>At where Chicago should have been, at any rate—he could hardly have -said what he expected but what he saw was merely a jungle. From what -seemed a considerable height he could make out little detail in the -mass of growing things.</p> - -<p>He could see no other tall buildings, but he was looking toward the -lake and his view was limited. As he strained his eyes he could see a -little of bright winding paths, and graceful little houses buried in -greenery and blossom. No movement caught his eye.</p> - -<p>These people must conduct their business elsewhere, he -thought—underground, perhaps, leaving the surface for leisure and -recreation. Garden City indeed! Life must be pleasant here—and it -would soon be his! He fairly itched to make his mark on this Brave New -World.</p> - -<p>He turned from his contemplation when he heard the door open. There was -that woman, smiling and inquiring how he'd slept. He'd soon straighten -her out.</p> - -<p>"Dr. Lorraine," he said grimly, "why was I locked in?"</p> - -<p>The smile faded just a little. "Three days observation, remember?"</p> - -<p>H.D. was patient. "Look," he said carefully, "I don't think you quite -understand. I'm H.D. Haworth. From the little you've said I gather -there's been no Bolshevik revolution, common sense be praised, so the -Haworth Trust must be worth hundreds of millions. You still use money, -don't you?"</p> - -<p>She nodded slowly.</p> - -<p>"And I have millions hidden away where no one can ever find them but -myself—don't think I came an empty-handed beggar, even if something -happened to the Trust funds. Millions, I tell you—gold and jewels, -rare old books and art, everything of value.</p> - -<p>"And besides that I'm the oldest sleeper—what's the matter with you -people?" he demanded fretfully: "Don't you know what news is? Why am I -met by one insignificant woman doctor?"</p> - -<p>Dr. Lorraine did not seem put out by the upbraiding and this in itself -was subtly exasperating. It was her attitude, her air, in which -he sensed—sympathy, yes, and a sort of embarrassment. He did not -understand it but it was absolutely offensive!</p> - -<p>"Well," H.D. snarled, beside himself, "confound it, woman, say -something!"</p> - -<p>"Three days observation," said Dr. Lorraine, almost stupidly. Then she -visibly readjusted the mantle of her professional cheerfulness and -spoke briskly.</p> - -<p>"It won't be so bad. I'll be making tests every day and that will pass -the time and you can play the 'visor." She went over to his bedside -table and pulled out the drawer holding the instrument.</p> - -<p>"I hate radios," H.D. said sullenly. "I'd like to jam every one down -Marconi's throat, first breaking the tubes. Confounded trashy programs, -changing every five minutes!"</p> - -<p>"Is that how they were? How awful for you! See, you just dial, like -this, and one station has nothing but dance music, another nothing but -Jimmurian dissonances. See? Anything you like.</p> - -<p>"And if you first dial "0" you can then dial for any number or any -entire program that's ever been recorded. Here's the index. Too bad we -don't have one in English."</p> - -<p>H.D. yielded a snicker. "Where's the screen?" he asked, slightly -mollified.</p> - -<p>"Oh. I did say 'visor,' didn't I? Well, you see, this is a modified -visor. No visual, no talking programs, just music. It's too bad, in -a way, but we had to have you here for some of the tests. This is a -neuro-psychiatric ward, you see. Yes, soft walls and all. It can be -stripped down for violents."</p> - -<p>H.D. showed signs of becoming that way himself and the doctor smilingly -stepped to the door and opened it.</p> - -<p>"See you tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"<i>Wait!</i>" H.D. roared. "What happens then? What—"</p> - -<p>"Three days observation." She nodded, and the door was closing. He -reached it in a bound but the lock clicked first.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Late in the afternoon of the third of those maddening days that -loathsome woman—the part of her that wasn't phonograph must have been -clam—brought him some clothes. And the word that she spoke as she -quietly left was music—Goodby.</p> - -<p>He vaguely remarked the clothes as he pulled them on—socks, thin-soled -shoes, a loosely draped one-piece garment of a closely woven sky-blue -material resembling silk but duller—a light cape of darker blue. Just -as he was appraising the quite satisfactory effect in the wall mirror a -sound turned him toward the door.</p> - -<p>They stood a little awkwardly in the doorway, pulling rather solemn -faces. The black-haired man, who would have been big by ordinary -standards, was mopping his red face in a nervous gesture and the -seven-foot giant who dwarfed him was stroking his platinum-blond beard.</p> - -<p>H.D. stared at the giant gape-mouthed. <i>He looks exactly like God, if -God were in the shape of a man</i>, he thought.</p> - -<p>Teeth flashed in a smile through the silvery brush and God said, -haltingly, "Hello, Grampaw."</p> - -<p>H.D. started violently. The black-haired man came forward with a -jovial, if forced, laugh and a deprecating wave of the hand.</p> - -<p>"You <i>are</i> his grandfather, you know, Mr. Haworth. Fourteen times -removed, that is. He's the Administrator now. Don't you know me? Guess -the bird looks different with all this plumage, eh?"</p> - -<p>There was, at that, something familiar about this coarse, good-natured -fellow, something....</p> - -<p>"Jones!" It was the delighted cry of a homesick sailor sighting the old -church steeple.</p> - -<p>"Garibaldi Jones! It's good to see you, man! When did they dig you up?"</p> - -<p>"About twenty years ago." Garry grinned.</p> - -<p>For a moment H.D. thought he discerned in his grin a trace of that -expression he had so come to hate in the last three days, that tinge of -something like embarrassment. Nonsense!</p> - -<p>He rushed on, "Now I'll find out about this new-fangled world and -pretty soon we'll set 'er by the ears. Once I get my...."</p> - -<p>The giant said something to Jones, who nodded uncomfortably. H.D. -frowned.</p> - -<p>"What's that? Why don't you speak English, Mr.—uh—Mr. Haworth? I -guess you're a Haworth?" The giant smiled politely.</p> - -<p>"He don't know any English, Mr. Haworth, except those words I taught -him. Guess you might as well call him Junior—same name as yours. He -says we better get going. Have to be in Washington by six. Your flyer's -waiting."</p> - -<p><i>Your flyer!</i> This was more like it. Well, after all, he was H.D. -Haworth, and they named demigods after him! In the exuberance of the -thought he forgot to ask why they had to go to Washington. He swirled -his cape about him and strode out. The demigod stepped aside for him.</p> - -<p>The corridor was a surprise. It was not merely long—it was shockingly -long. It must have been <i>miles</i> long. And it was broad. A truck could -have easily passed and it was lined with doors and little signs in a -wavy lettering. No one seemed to be about.</p> - -<p>They hurried along, H.D. gawking to all sides, almost trotting as -Junior set the pace. At the great double door of an elevator shaft -Junior touched the signal button.</p> - -<p>Big—everything around here was <i>big</i>! The elevator could have -accommodated several pianos and the pretty red-head operating the lift -had to look down at H.D. She winked and made a laughing remark.</p> - -<p>"She says you're cute."</p> - -<p>H.D. did not know whether to be pleased or offended and before he could -decide the acceleration took his breath away. They went up, up, a -ridiculous distance, and at last he stepped out into another corridor.</p> - -<p><i>Corridor!</i> The floor must have been forty yards across and most of it -was moving, a series of horizontal escalators with three speeds in each -direction, adjacent strips moving at different speeds.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>While H.D. stared, Junior and Garry Jones had stepped aboard the -nearest strip and were moving away. Now Jones came trotting back, -making little headway against the conveyor's motion. He had to chuckle.</p> - -<p><i>In my country, said the queen, you have to run like the devil to stay -in the same place.</i></p> - -<p>"Come on, Mr. Haworth," Garry called. H.D. waited for the next opening -in the rail to oppose him, took hold and stepped on. When he had come -up, Garry explained, "This is Chicago—this building—this is the whole -city, the business part, that is. This is one of the transport levels."</p> - -<p>"Hmm." The place didn't look right—too bare, too empty. "Where are the -stores? Where are the signs? Where are the people?"</p> - -<p>"Stores? Oh, this is just a garage. Working day's over. Just about -everybody's gone home."</p> - -<p>"Garage?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, for flyers—remember? Here we are."</p> - -<p>The door Junior unlocked let them into a space sufficiently garage-like -in its bareness, but the thirty feet of gold-and-crystal grace it -sheltered was a thing of beauty, enough to warm the cockles of any -limousine-lover's heart. As H.D. gave himself up to the upholstery's -caress he felt his old confidence return.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p>The thirty feet of gold-and-crystal grace the garage held was a thing of beauty.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The wall rolled away as Junior made some unperceived signal. With the -slightest of vibration the flyer wafted out into the shadowed evening. -As the wingless craft emerged into space H.D.'s hands instinctively -tightened their grip on the arms of his chair. Then he relaxed with a -smile. He looked around with appreciation, ready to accept each new -thrill with easy complacency.</p> - -<p>When the mounting flyer finally cleared the shadow of that Everest of -a building they must have been six thousand feet up. In the western -distance the dipping sun shed its fire on a doll's garden of patched -green, with here and there a spot of cheerful early autumn color. -<i>Charming</i>, he thought patronizingly, <i>charming!</i></p> - -<p>"Let's go down closer and have a good look at those suburbs," he -exclaimed on sudden impulse.</p> - -<p>Garry shook his head. "Too late. We'd never make it to Washington by -six." The flyer was gaining speed and altitude.</p> - -<p>"What's all this about Washington? What happens there?"</p> - -<p>Garry hesitated. "You have to take a trip, Mr. Haworth."</p> - -<p>H.D. leaned forward, unable to hear the last words. With their mounting -speed the whine of violated air was becoming a scream. Garry reached -back over Junior's shoulder and hit a toggle at the right end of the -instrument board. It was like shutting off a radio.</p> - -<p>He repeated, "You have to take a trip, Mr. Haworth."</p> - -<p>"Trip. By heaven, you're as mysterious as that woman. Why don't you -speak up? Well, never mind that." His eyes narrowed. "To whom does this -airship belong?"</p> - -<p>Garry sighed. "To you, Mr. Haworth."</p> - -<p>"Tell that oaf to turn around and go back."</p> - -<p>Garry sighed again and shook his head. "He won't, Mr. Haworth." The -flyer was arching through a dark swirling cumulus layer, still gaining -speed.</p> - -<p>H.D.'s jaw set hard. He gritted his words.</p> - -<p>"I don't know just what this is," he said slowly, "but I know this. You -won't get away with it. Nobody fools with me. I'll break you and that -great goon of a great-great-grandson. Money still counts here—that -woman said so."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Yes. I suppose you know to whom the Haworth Trust reverts now?"</p> - -<p>"To you, Mr. Haworth."</p> - -<p>"Yes. And that means I'm one of the richest men in the world again."</p> - -<p>"No, sir."</p> - -<p>H.D.'s cold tone deepened. "What do you mean, no?"</p> - -<p>"Well, sir, times have changed, you might say."</p> - -<p>"Inflation!" H.D. exploded.</p> - -<p>"No, sir, none to speak of. You can still get a loaf of bread for a -quarter. It's just that the growth curve is pretty steep, and it gets -steeper all the time. Atomic energy, you know, and no wars for a long -time, and now no natural death.</p> - -<p>"You can get twelve percent on your money in a savings bank. It's -really an expanding economy. Why, Chicago alone is worth more in -dollars and cents than all the nations of earth in our time."</p> - -<p>H.D. reflected this. "Well, how much is the Trust worth?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Garry exchanged a few words with Junior. "About thirty million, he -says."</p> - -<p>"<i>What!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Well," Garry hastened, "I know it isn't much for twenty million to -grow to after all this time, but there have been expenses! What we -had to spend for protection in the old days, when the mobs wanted to -dynamite the vault!</p> - -<p>"The sums that were spent on research to revive you! And then the -Administrator, Junior here, has to live up to the Haworth name and -that's expensive. He draws over a million a year."</p> - -<p>"Why, that thieving, white-whiskered pip-squeak, I'll sue him within an -inch of his life! I'll—"</p> - -<p>"Now, now, Mr. Haworth, you're still a wealthy man."</p> - -<p>H.D. glared. "Wealthy. Yes. And famous. The oldest Sleeper. Can't -understand why the newsmen haven't been after me. In my time—"</p> - -<p>"You're not news, sir. Look, Mr. Haworth, I have some rather unpleasant -things to tell you. I've been shirking it but I might as well tell you -now."</p> - -<p>H.D. shrugged off a faint twinge of apprehension and leaned back in his -seat. He looked out. The flyer was rocketing through clear air, high -above a sea of crimson cotton, no longer accelerating.</p> - -<p>He relaxed and permitted himself a smile. He had life, health, and -millions. The billions would come easily enough. Pah, what "unpleasant -things" could mar this paradise?</p> - -<p>"You did have some news value as the oldest and one of the deadest -Sleepers—but you've been thoroughly Probed out this last year."</p> - -<p>H.D. frowned impatiently. "What's this 'Probe' business? That woman -mentioned it, and some 'Code'."</p> - -<p>"The Farbenstein Probe," Garry said, looking thoughtfully out at the -darkling horizon, "is, in simple terms, a hypno-bio-physical technique -for reaching and interpreting buried memories. Your thoughts and -experiences are on file and the newsworthy ones have been published."</p> - -<p>H.D.'s mind refused to accept this horrible thought. He stared stupidly.</p> - -<p>"<i>No!</i> It can't be!" he gasped. "It's—it isn't possible! It isn't -<i>decent</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, not <i>all</i> your thoughts," he explained quickly. "Just—well, I'd -better just tell you as well as I can about the Code." A very uneasy -feeling mounted in H.D.'s breast as Garry continued.</p> - -<p>"The Ascension Code made some basic changes in the conditions of -life. What it really did was take most of the irresponsibility out of -people's behavior. Because the freezatoria gave people hope that had no -faith in Heaven—so the Code gave them fear, that didn't fear God. The -Code put justice on a remorseless eye-for-an-eye basis."</p> - -<p>H.D.'s blood ran slowly cold. He repressed the thought, denied it, -rejected it, but in his heart he knew. His intuition had made the -connection. Garry noted his heavy breathing, and felt a stir of pity. -He continued, gazing out.</p> - -<p>"It's simple enough, in practise. Every fifty years each person -must submit to a Survey—and all Sleepers when they're revived. -By association techniques they're made, under the Probe, to admit -everything they've done that was wrong, either by their own conscience -or by the written law.</p> - -<p>"Then—well, you see—one outgrowth of the Probe is that <i>suffering</i> -has been classified, qualitatively and quantitatively. Oh, it's -arbitrary on the edges, but not very, and where there's doubt there's -charity, of course.</p> - -<p>"After the Survey, if he's passed a certain allowable maximum in -wrongdoing, a person must go to—the penal colony and experience -himself all the suffering he has caused, qualitatively and -quantitatively as closely as possible."</p> - -<p>The question was only a whisper. "How long will I have to spend at -this—this place—where did you say?"</p> - -<p>"The penal colony? It's on the fourth planet. I guess we used to call -it Mars." He hesitated. "In your case, I'm afraid—well, they say you -hurt a lot of people."</p> - -<p>"It's ridiculous!" H.D. cried desperately. "It's barbaric! My word, -even in our time reasonable people knew that <i>revenge</i> isn't -civilized, even against <i>criminals</i>. Can't they <i>rehabilitate</i> people?"</p> - -<p>Garry grimaced, and spoke flatly, slowly.</p> - -<p>"'There is no known deterrent from harmfully selfish action except fear -of punishment. Nor can there be a healthy mind as long as there exists -a debt to conscience.' That's a translation from a schoolbook."</p> - -<p>H.D. sprawled in his chair like a poled ox. He recognized that he was -beaten. His eyes stared vacantly, he mumbled over and over, "They -can't, they can't." He did not notice the flyer's swooping deceleration.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Something was shining with a white light. They were hovering. H.D. -looked up absently, little interest in his eyes. A great long -cave-mouth yawned in the mountain that was Washington, bright in the -gathering dusk.</p> - -<p>"There's our signal." A green eye was blinking rapidly. Junior settled -the flyer in a curbed rectangle and H.D. had a moment to note the rows -of craft, the conveyors, the rows of brightly lettered doors in the -background. Then the door of the flyer opened and a gray-uniformed man -almost as big as Junior clambered in, carrying a little leather bag.</p> - -<p>H.D. watched in silence as the Administrator and the stranger exchanged -a few words and some sheaves of paper, to which each affixed a -signature. Then the man in gray opened his bag and, with the tools he -took out, began to do something to the flyer's instrument panel. He -whistled as he worked, a jazzy dance tune, and the sound grotesquely -accentuated the silence of the watching three.</p> - -<p>Jones stirred. "Well, here's where we get off, I guess." He stepped -down out of the flyer, Junior after him, but when H.D. mechanically -followed, the Administrator's bulk blocked the door. He was smiling -with polite embarrassment.</p> - -<p>"Move, you oaf!" H.D. snapped.</p> - -<p>"Sorry, Mr. Haworth," Garry said. "You're going on to ... the penal -colony."</p> - -<p>Red rage gripped H.D.; they were treating him like an animal, sending -him off like a bull to the packing house. He gripped the door-frame -with his hands, and in a quick motion set his foot against Junior's -chest. The giant sprawled backwards, and there was a satisfying thump -as his head struck the pavement.</p> - -<p>An iron hand gripped H.D.'s shoulder. The uniformed man's face was -completely indifferent, almost bored. He merely held H.D. until he -relaxed and sank shaking into a seat. Junior was on his feet, rubbing -his head, the oafish smile a little rueful now.</p> - -<p>The man in gray resumed his work and his whistling. It was intolerable. -Those two with their sympathetic silence, and this fellow with his -cheerful, loathsome whistling. He had to say something.</p> - -<p>"How's a little can like this able to get to another planet?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, we're pretty good engineers these days," Garry said eagerly. "Tell -you about it sometime. Well, the J-man's fixing your pilot signal now. -It'll fly on automatic. It ought to be pretty interesting, really, your -first space trip and all."</p> - -<p>H.D. scarcely heard him. The "J-man" had put his tools back in their -bag and was descending to the pavement. The door closed with a ringing -sound and the J-man was doing something to it from the outside. -Despairing, frustrated tears welled in H.D.'s eyes. His knuckles -whitened.</p> - -<p>A faint vibration stirred in the flyer and H.D. looked around in panic. -Going already? He felt horribly afraid. He had an impulse to claw the -walls. Garry caught his wild look and returned a glance of sympathy. -His lips moved, but no sound came. H.D. stared. Garry's lips moved -again, and he gestured. H.D. remembered then and hit the toggle.</p> - -<p>"... easy, Mr. Haworth." Garry's voice was as clear now as though he -spoke beside him.</p> - -<p>The flyer lifted gently and eased around in a 180-degree turn. The -last tints of evening glowed in the western sky, the earth was lost in -darkness and the first insolent stars were mocking him.</p> - -<p>Garry, on the other side now, called again.</p> - -<p>"Take it as it comes, Mr. Haworth. It won't last forever, even if it -seems like it. Son of a gun—said the wrong thing again, didn't I!"</p> - -<p>H.D. screamed, "Appeal! Appeal the case!"</p> - -<p>Garry sadly shook his head. "'There is no known deterrent from -harmfully selfish action except fear of punishment. Nor can there be a -healthy mind as long as there exists a debt to conscience.'"</p> - -<p>The flyer was easing out into the night, toward that red star of evil.</p> - -<p>"You say Mars isn't called Mars any more?" he called hoarsely, pressing -desperately against the hard crystal.</p> - -<p>"No," Garry called softly and the quiet words were still very clear. -"Now they call it Hell."</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PENULTIMATE TRUMP ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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