PraisefortheNovelsoftheGalacticEmpire
PebbleintheSky
“PebbleintheSkywasoriginallypublishedin1950but,exceptforafewdetails,holdsup. . . .Youget to share in the rareviewof thebeginningofAsimov’svision of the Galactic Empire, which would serve as the backdrop of manynovels,culminatingwiththeFoundationseries.”
—SFRevu
TheStars,LikeDust
“SciencefictiononthelargerscaleisIsaacAsimov’sspecialty.Thesceneofhisnewbook,arousingadventurestoryoftheremotefuture,istheGalaxy,which,withitshundredsofinhabitedplanets,hasbeentakenoverbyadictatorialracecalled, appropriately enough, the Tyranni. . . . Clear writing and excellentsuspensemakethisbookawelcomeadditiontothesciencefictionlists.”
—TheNewYorkTimes
TheCurrentsofSpace
“Obviously, Isaac Asimov had a lot of fun concocting this merry tangle ofinterplanetary power politics. . . . If it isn’t often science fiction, it is alwaysbeautifullycontrivedmelodrama.ThereaderwillhavejustasmuchfunasMr.Asimov.”
—TheNewYorkTimes
PebbleintheSky
ISAACASIMOV
ORBATOMDOHERTYASSOCIATESBOOK
NEWYORK
Thecharactersandtheincidentsinthisbookareentirelytheproductoftheauthor’simaginationandhavenorelationtoanypersonoreventinreallife.PEBBLEINTHESKY
Copyright©1950,renewed1978byTheEstateofIsaacAsimovAllrightsreserved.AnOrbBookPublishedbyTomDohertyAssociates,LLC175FifthAvenueNewYork,NY10010www.tor-forge.comLibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataAsimov,Isaac,1920–1992.Pebbleinthesky/IsaacAsimov.—1stOrbed.p.cm.
“ATomDohertyAssociatesbook.”ISBN978-0-7653-1913-5I.Title.PS3551.S5P42009813'.54—dc22
2008046430
FirstTorEdition:January2008FirstOrbEdition:May2010PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica0987654321
Tomyfather,whofirstintroducedmetosciencefiction
Contents
1BetweenOneFootstepandtheNext
2TheDisposalofaStranger
3OneWorld—orMany?
4TheRoyalRoad
5TheInvoluntaryVolunteer
6ApprehensionintheNight
7ConversationwithMadmen?
8ConvergenceatChica
9ConflictatChica
10InterpretationofEvents
11TheMindThatChanged
12TheMindThatKilled
13SpiderWebatWashenn
14SecondMeeting
15TheOddsThatVanished
16ChooseYourSide!
17ChangeYourSide!
18Duel!
19TheDeadlineThatApproached
20TheDeadlineThatWasReached
21TheDeadlineThatPassed
22TheBestIsYettoBe
PebbleintheSky
1
BetweenOneFootstepandtheNext
TwominutesbeforehedisappearedforeverfromthefaceoftheEarthhe knew, Joseph Schwartz strolled along the pleasant streets of suburbanChicagoquotingBrowningtohimself.In a sense thiswas strange, since Schwartzwould scarcely have impressed
anycasualpasserbyas theBrowning-quoting type.He lookedexactlywhathewas:aretiredtailor,thoroughlylackinginwhatthesophisticatesoftodaycalla“formal education.” Yet he had expendedmuch of an inquisitive nature uponrandomreading.Bythesheerforceofindiscriminatevoracity,hehadgleanedasmattering of practically everything, and by means of a trick memory hadmanagedtokeepitallstraight.Forinstance,hehadreadRobertBrowning’sRabbiBenEzra twicewhenhe
wasyounger,so,ofcourse,knewitbyheart.Mostofitwasobscuretohim,butthosefirstthreelineshadbecomeonewiththebeatingofhishearttheselastfewyears.He intoned them tohimself, deepwithin the silent fortressofhismind,thatverysunnyandverybrightearlysummerdayof1949:
“Growoldalongwithme!Thebestisyettobe,Thelastoflife,forwhichthefirstwasmade...”
Schwartz felt that to its fullness.After the strugglesofyouth inEuropeandthoseofhisearlymanhoodintheUnitedStates,theserenityofacomfortableold
agewaspleasant.Withahouseofhisownandmoneyofhisown,hecould,anddid,retire.Withawifeingoodhealth,twodaughterssafelymarried,agrandsontosoothetheselastbestyears,whathadhetoworryabout?Therewastheatombomb,ofcourse,andthissomewhatlascivioustalkabout
WorldWarIII,butSchwartzwasabelieverinthegoodnessofhumannature.Hedidn’t think therewouldbeanotherwar.Hedidn’t thinkEarthwouldever seeagain thesunlikehellofanatomexplodedinanger.Sohesmiled tolerantlyatthechildrenhepassedand silentlywished thema speedyandnot toodifficultridethroughyouthtothepeaceofthebestthatwasyettobe.HeliftedhisfoottostepoveraRaggedyAnndollsmilingthroughitsneglect
asitlaythereinthemiddleofthewalk,afoundlingnotyetmissed.Hehadnotquiteputhisfootdownagain...InanotherpartofChicagostood the Institute forNuclearResearch, inwhichmenmayhavehadtheoriesupontheessentialworthofhumannaturebutwere half ashamed of them, since no quantitative instrument had yet beendesignedtomeasureit.Whentheythoughtaboutit,itwasoftenenoughtowishthatsomestrokefromheavenwouldpreventhumannature(anddamnedhumaningenuity) from turningevery innocent and interestingdiscovery intoadeadlyweapon.Yet,inapinch,thesamemanwhocouldnotfinditinhisconsciencetocurb
hiscuriosityintothenuclearstudiesthatmightsomedaykillhalfofEarthwouldriskhislifetosavethatofanunimportantfellowman.Itwastheblueglowbehindthechemist’sbackthatfirstattractedtheattention
ofDr.Smith.He peered at it as he passed the half-open door. The chemist, a cheerful
youngster, was whistling as he tipped up a volumetric flask, in which thesolutionhadalreadybeenmadeup tovolume.Awhitepowder tumbled lazilythroughtheliquid,dissolvinginitsowngoodtime.Foramomentthatwasall,and thenDr.Smith’s instinct,whichhad stoppedhim in the firstplace, stirredhimtoaction.Hedashedinside,snatchedupayardstick,andsweptthecontentsofthedesk
toptothefloor.Therewasthedeadlyhissofmoltenmetal.Dr.Smithfeltadropofperspirationsliptotheendofhisnose.The youngster stared blankly at the concrete floor along which the silvery
metalhadalreadyfrozeninthinsplashmarks.Theystillradiatedheatstrongly.Hesaidfaintly,“Whathappened?”Dr.Smith shrugged.Hewasn’t quitehimself either. “I don’t know.You tell
me....What’sbeendoinghere?”“Nothing’sbeendoinghere,”thechemistyammered.“Thatwasjustasample
ofcrudeuranium.I’mmakinganelectrolyticcopperdetermination... .Idon’tknowwhatcouldhavehappened.”“Whatever happened, youngman, I can tell youwhat I saw. That platinum
cruciblewasshowingacorona.Heavyradiationwastakingplace.Uranium,yousay?”“Yes,butcrudeuranium,andthat isn’tdangerous. Imean,extremepurity is
one of themost important qualifications for fission, isn’t it?” He touched histonguetohislipsquickly.“Doyouthinkitwasfission,sir?It’snotplutonium,anditwasn’tbeingbombarded.”“And,” said Dr. Smith thoughtfully, “it was below the critical mass. Or, at
least,belowthecriticalmasseswethinkweknow.”Hestaredat thesoapstonedesk, at the burned and blistered paint of the cabinets and the silvery streaksalongtheconcretefloor.“Yeturaniummeltsatabout1800degreesCentigrade,and nuclear phenomena are not sowell known thatwe can afford to talk tooglibly.Afterall, thisplacemustbefairlysaturatedwithstrayradiations.Whenthe metal cools, young man, it had better be chipped up, collected, andthoroughlyanalyzed.”Hegazed thoughtfullyabouthim, then stepped to theoppositewall and felt
uneasilyataspotaboutshoulderheight.“What’sthis?”hesaidtothechemist.“Hasthisalwaysbeenhere?”“What,sir?”Theyoungmansteppedupnervouslyandglancedatthespotthe
oldermanindicated.Itwasatinyhole,onethatmighthavebeenmadebyathinnail driven into thewall andwithdrawn—butdriven throughplaster andbrickforthefullthicknessofthebuilding’swall,sincedaylightcouldbeseenthroughit.Thechemistshookhishead,“Ineversawthatbefore.ButIneverlookedfor
it,either,sir.”Dr.Smithsaidnothing.Hesteppedbackslowlyandpassedthethermostat,a
parallelopiped of a box made out of thin sheet iron. The water in it movedswirlingly as the stirrer turned inmotor-drivenmonomania, while the electricbulbsbeneath thewater, servingasheaters, flickedonandoffdistractingly, intimewiththeclickingofthemercuryrelay.“Well,then,wasthishere?”AndDr.Smithscrapedgentlywithhisfingernail
ataspotnearthetopofthewidesideofthethermostat.Itwasaneat,tinycircledrilledthroughthemetal.Thewaterdidnotquitereachit.The chemist’s eyes widened. “No, sir, that wasn’t there ever before. I’ll
guaranteethat.”
“Hmm.Isthereoneontheotherside?”“Well,I’llbedamned.Imean,yes,sir!”“All right, come round here and sight through the holes. . . . Shut the
thermostatoff,please.Nowstaythere.”Heplacedhisfingerontheholeinthewall.“Whatdoyousee?”hecalledout.“Iseeyourfinger,sir.Isthatwheretheholeis?”Dr.Smithdidnotanswer.Hesaid,withacalmnesshewasfarfromfeeling,
“Sightthroughintheotherdirection....Nowwhatdoyousee?”“Nothingnow.”“But that’s the place where the crucible with the uranium was standing.
You’relookingattheexactplace,aren’tyou?”Reluctantly,“Ithinkso,sir.”Dr.Smithsaidfrostily,withaquickglanceatthenameplateonthestill-open
door,“Mr.Jennings,thisisabsolutelytop-secret.Idon’twantyouevertospeakaboutthistoanyone.Doyouunderstand?”“Absolutely,sir!”“Thenlet’sgetoutofhere.We’llsendintheradiationmentochecktheplace,
andyouandIwillspendasiegeintheinfirmary.”“Radiationburns,youmean?”Thechemistpaled.“We’llfindout.”Buttherewerenoserioussignsofradiationburnsineither.Bloodcountswere
normalandastudyofthehairrootsrevealednothing.Thenauseathatdevelopedwaseventuallytabbedaspsychosomaticandnoothersymptomsappeared.Nor, in all the Institute, was anyone found, either then or in the future, to
explainwhyacrucibleofcrudeuranium,wellbelowcriticalsize,andundernodirectneutronicbombardment,shouldsuddenlymeltandradiatethatdeadlyandsignificantcorona.The only conclusion was that nuclear physics had queer and dangerous
cranniesleftinit.Yet Dr. Smith never brought himself to tell all the truth in the report he
eventually prepared. He made no mention of the holes in the laboratory, nomentionofthefactthattheonenearestthespotwherethecruciblehadbeenwasbarely visible, the one on the other side of the thermostat was a trace larger,while theonein thewall, three timesasfarawayfromthatfearfulspot,couldhavehadanailthrustthroughit.A beam expanding in a straight line could travel several miles before the
Earth’s curvature made the surface fall away from it sufficiently to preventfurtherdamage,andthenitwouldbetenfeetacross.Afterthat,flashingemptilyintospace,expandingandweakening,aqueerstraininthefabricofthecosmos.
Henevertoldanyoneofthatfancy.Henever told anyone that he called for themorningpapersnext day,while
stillintheinfirmary,andsearchedthecolumnswithadefinitepurposeinmind.But somanypeople inagiantmetropolisdisappeareveryday.Andnobody
hadgonescreamingtothepolicewithvaguetalesofhow,beforehiseyes,aman(orwoulditbehalfaman?)haddisappeared.Atleastnosuchcasewasreported.Dr.Smithforcedforgetfulness,eventually.
ToJosephSchwartzithadhappenedbetweenonestepandthenext.HehadliftedhisrightfoottocleartheRaggedyAnndollandforamomenthehadfeltdizzy—asthoughforthemeresttrifleoftimeawhirlwindhadliftedhimandturnedhiminsideout.Whenheplacedhisrightfootdownagain,allthebreathwentoutofhiminagaspandhefelthimselfslowlycrumpleandslidedowntothegrass.Hewaitedalongtimewithhiseyesclosed—andthenheopenedthem.Itwastrue!Hewassittingongrass,wherepreviouslyhehadbeenwalkingon
concrete.Thehousesweregone!Thewhitehouses,eachwithitslawn,squattingthere,
rowonrow,allgone!And it was not a lawn he was sitting on, for the grass was growing rank,
untended,andthereweretreesabout,manyofthem,withmoreonthehorizon.Thatwaswhentheworstshockofallcame,becausetheleavesonthosetrees
wereruddy,someofthem,andinthecurveofhishandhefeltthedrybrittlenessofadeadleaf.Hewasacityman,butheknewautumnwhenhesawit.Autumn!Yetwhenhehad lifted his right foot it hadbeen a Juneday,with
everythingafreshandglisteninggreen.Helookedtowardhisfeetautomaticallyashethoughtthatand,withasharp
cry,reachedtowardthem...Thelittleclothdollthathehadsteppedover,alittlebreathofreality,a—Well,no!Heturneditoverinhistremblinghands,anditwasnotwhole.Yetit
wasnotmangled;itwassliced.Nowwasn’tthatqueer!Slicedlengthwiseveryneatly, so that the waste-yarn stuffing wasn’t stirred a hair. It lay there ininterruptedthreads,endingflatly.TheglitteronhisleftshoecaughtSchwartz’seye.Stillclutchingthedoll,he
forcedhis foot over his raisedknee.The extreme tip of the sole, the part thatextended forward past the uppers, was smoothly sliced off. Sliced off as noearthlyknifeinthehandofanearthlycobblercouldhaveduplicated.Thefreshsurfacegleamedalmostliquidlyinitsunbelievablesmoothness.
Schwartz’s confusion had reached up from his spinal cord and touched thecerebrum,whereitfinallyfrozehimwithhorror.Atlast,becauseeventhesoundofhisownvoicewasasoothingelementina
worldotherwisecompletelymad,hespokealoud.Thevoiceheheardwas lowandtenseandpanting.Hesaid,“Inthefirstplace,I’mnotcrazy.IfeelinsidejustthewayI’vealways
felt....Ofcourse,ifmaybeIwerecrazy,Iwouldn’tknowit,orwouldI?No—”Inside, he felt thehysteria rise and forced it down. “Theremust be somethingelsepossible.”Heconsidered,“Adream,maybe?HowcanItellifit’sadreamornot?”He
pinchedhimselfandfeltthenip,butshookhishead.“IcanalwaysdreamIfeelapinch.That’snoproof.”He lookedabouthimdespairingly.Coulddreamsbesoclear,sodetailed,so
lasting?Hehadreadoncethatmostdreamslastnotmorethanfiveseconds,thattheyareinducedbytriflingdisturbancestothesleeper,thattheapparentlengthofthedreamsisanillusion.Coldcomfort!Heshifted thecuffofhisshirtupwardandstaredathiswrist
watch.The secondhand turned and turned and turned. If itwere adream, thefivesecondswasgoingtostretchmadly.He looked away and wiped futilely at the cold dampness of his forehead.
“Whataboutamnesia?”Hedidnotanswerhimself,butslowlyburiedhisheadinbothhands.Ifhehadliftedhisfootand,ashedidso,hismindhadslippedthewell-worn
andwell-oiledtracksithadfollowedsofaithfullyforsolong...Ifthreemonthslater, in the autumn, or a year and threemonths later, or ten years and threemonths later, he had put his foot down in this strange place, just as hismindreturned...Why,itwouldseemasinglestep,andallthis...Thenwherehadhebeenandwhathadhedoneintheinterval?“No!”Thewordcameoutinaloudcry.Thatcouldn’tbe!Schwartzlookedat
hisshirt. Itwastheonehehadputonthatmorning,orwhatshouldhavebeenthatmorning,anditwasafreshshirt.Hebethoughthimself,plungedafistintohisjacketpocket,andbroughtoutanapple.Hebit into itwildly. Itwasfreshandstillhada lingeringcoolnessfromthe
refrigeratorwhichhadheldittwohoursearlier—orwhatshouldhavebeentwohours.Andthelittleragdoll,whataboutthat?Hefelthimselfbeginning togowild. Ithad tobeadream,orhereallywas
insane.Itstruckhimthatthetimeofdayhadchanged.Itwaslateafternoon,oratleast
theshadowswere lengthening.Thequietdesolationof theplacefloodeddownuponhimsuddenlyandfreezingly.Helurchedtohisfeet.Obviouslyhewouldhavetofindpeople,anypeople.
And,asobviously,hewouldhave to findahouse,and thebestway todo thatwouldbetofindaroad.Automaticallyhe turned in thedirection inwhich the trees seemed thinnest,
andwalked.Theslightchillofeveningwascreepinginsidehisjacketandthetopsofthe
treeswerebecomingdimand forbiddingwhenhecameupon that straightandimpersonalstreakofmacadam.Helungedtowarditwithsobbinggratitudeandlovedthefeelofthehardnessbeneathhisfeet.Butalongeitherdirectionwasabsoluteemptiness,and foramomenthe felt
thecoldclutchagain.Hehadhopedforcars.Itwouldhavebeentheeasiestthingtowavethemdownandsay—hesaiditaloudinhiseagerness—“GoingtowardChicago,maybe?”WhatifhewasnowherenearChicago?Well,anylargecity;anyplacehecould
reacha telephone line.Hehadonly fourdollarsand twenty-sevencents inhispocket,buttherewasalwaysthepolice...Hewaswalking along the highway,walking along themiddle,watching in
bothdirections.Thesettingofthesunmadenoimpressionuponhim,orthefactthatthefirststarswerecomingout.Nocars.Nothing!Anditwasgettingtobereallydark.Hethoughtthatfirstdizzinessmightbecomingback,becausethehorizonat
hisleftglimmered.Throughthegapsinthetreestherewasacoldblueshine.Itwasnottheleapingredheimaginedaforestfirewouldbelike,butafaintandcreeping glow. And the macadam beneath his feet seemed to sparkle ever sofaintly. He bent down to touch it, and it felt normal. But there was that tinyglimmerthatcaughttheedgesofhiseyes.He found himself runningwildly along the highway, his shoes thudding in
bluntandunevenrhythm.Hewasconsciousofthedamageddollinhishandandhetosseditwildlyoverhishead.Leering,mockingremnantoflife...Andthenhestoppedinapanic.Whateveritwas,itwasaproofofhissanity.
Andheneededit!Sohefeltaboutinthedarkness,crawlingonhiskneestillhefoundit,adarkpatchontheultra-faintglow.Thestuffingwasplumpingoutand,absently,heforceditback.Hewaswalkingagain—toomiserabletorun,hetoldhimself.Hewasgettinghungryandreally,reallyfrightenedwhenhesawthatsparkto
theright.
Itwasahouse,ofcourse!Heshoutedwildlyandnooneanswered,butitwasahouse,asparkofreality
blinkingathimthroughthehorrible,namelesswildernessof thelasthours.Heturned off the road and went plunging cross-country, across ditches, aroundtrees,throughtheunderbrush,andoveracreek.Queer thing! Even the creek glowed faintly—phosphorescently! But it was
onlythetiniestfragmentofhismindthatnotedit.Then he was there, with his hands reaching out to touch the hard white
structure.Itwasneitherbricknorstonenorwood,butheneverpaidthattheleastmind.It lookedlikeadull,strongporcelain,buthedidn’tgiveahoot.Hewasjustlookingforadoor,andwhenhecametoitandsawnobell,hekickedatitandyelledlikeademon.Heheard the stirring insideand theblessed, lovely soundofahumanvoice
otherthanhisown.Heyelledagain.“Hey,inthere!”Therewasafaint,oiledwhir,andthedooropened.Awomanemerged,aspark
ofalarminhereyes.Shewastallandwiry,andbehindherwasthegauntfigureof ahard-facedman inworkclothes. . . .No,notworkclothes.Actually theywere like nothingSchwartz had ever seen, but, in some indefinableway, theylookedlikethekindofclothesmenworkedin.But Schwartz was not analytical. To him they, and their clothes, were
beautiful;beautifulonlyasthesightoffriendstoamanalonecanbebeautiful.Thewoman spoke and her voicewas liquid, but peremptory, and Schwartz
reachedforthedoortokeephimselfupright.Hislipsmoved,uselessly,and,inarush,alltheclammiestfearshehadknownreturnedtochokehiswindpipeandstiflehisheart.ForthewomanspokeinnolanguageSchwartzhadeverheard.
2
TheDisposalofaStranger
LoaMarenandherstolidhusband,Arbin,playedcardsinthecoolofthesameevening,whiletheoldermaninthemotor-drivenwheelchairinthecornerrustledhisnewspaperangrilyandcalled,“Arbin!”ArbinMarendidnotansweratonce.Hefingeredthethin,smoothrectangles
carefullyasheconsideredthenextplay.Then,asheslowlymadehisdecision,herespondedwithanabsent,“Whatdoyouwant,Grew?”ThegrizzledGrewregardedhisson-in-lawfiercelyoverthetopofthepaper
and rustled it again.He found noise of that sort a great relief to his feelings.Whenamanteemswithenergyandfindshimselfspikedtoawheelchairwithtwodeadsticksforlegs,theremustbesomething,bySpace,hecandotoexpresshimself. Grew used his newspaper. He rustled it; he gestured with it; whennecessary,heswattedatthingswithit.ElsewherethanonEarth,Grewknew,theyhadtelenewsmachinesthatissued
rollsofmicrofilmasservingsofcurrentnews.Standardbookviewerswereusedforthem.ButGrewsneeredsilentlyatthat.Aneffeteanddegeneratecustom!Grewsaid,“Didyoureadaboutthearchaeologicalexpeditionthey’resending
toEarth?”“No,Ihaven’t,”saidArbincalmly.Grew knew that, since nobody but himself had seen the paper yet, and the
familyhadgivenuptheirvideolastyear.Butthenhisremarkhadsimplybeeninthenatureofanopeninggambit,anyway.
Hesaid,“Well,there’sonecoming.AndonanImperialgrant,too,andhowdoyou like that?” He began reciting in the queer unevenness of tone that mostpeople somehow assume automatically when reading aloud, “ ‘Bel Arvardan,Senior Research Associate at the Imperial Archaeological Institute, in aninterviewgranted theGalacticPress, spokehopefullyof theexpectedvaluableresultsofarchaeologicalstudieswhicharebeingprojectedupontheplanetEarth,locatedontheoutskirtsoftheSiriusSector(seemap).“Earth,”hesaid,“withitsarchaiccivilizationanditsuniqueenvironment,offersafreakculturewhichhasbeentoolongneglectedbyoursocialscientists,exceptasadifficultexerciseinlocalgovernment.Ihaveeveryexpectationthatthenextyearortwowillbringabout revolutionarychanges insomeofoursupposed fundamentalconceptsofsocialevolutionandhumanhistory.”’Andsoonandsoon,”hefinishedwithaflourish.ArbinMarenhadbeen listeningwithonlyhalf an ear.Hemumbled, “What
doeshemean,‘freakculture’?”Loa Maren hadn’t been listening at all. She simply said, “It’s your play,
Arbin.”Grewwenton,“Well,aren’tyougoingtoaskmewhytheTribuneprintedit?
You know theywouldn’t print a Galactic Press release for amillion ImperialCreditswithoutagoodreason.”Hewaiteduselesslyforananswer,thensaid,“Becausetheyhaveaneditorial
on it. A full-page editorial that blasts the living daylights out of this guyArvardan.Here’safellowwantstocomehereforscientificpurposesandthey’rechokingthemselvespurpletokeephimout.Lookatthispieceofrabblerousing.Lookatit!”Heshookthepaperatthem.“Readit,whydon’tyou?”Loa Maren put down her cards and clamped her thin lips firmly together.
“Father,” she said, “we’ve had a hard day, so let’s not have politics just now.Later,maybe,eh?Please,Father.”Grewscowledandmimicked,“‘Please,Father!Please,Father.’Itappearsto
meyoumustbegettingprettytiredofyouroldfatherwhenyoubegrudgehimafewquietwordsoncurrentevents.I’minyourway,Isuppose,sittinghereinthecornerandlettingyoutwoworkforthree....Whosefaultisit?I’mstrong.I’mwilling towork.Andyouknow I couldgetmy legs treated andbe aswell asever.”Heslappedthemashespoke:hard,savage,ringingslaps,whichheheardbutdidnotfeel.“TheonlyreasonIcan’tisbecauseI’mgettingtoooldtomakeacureworththeirwhile.Don’tyoucallthata‘freakculture’?Whatelsecouldyou call aworldwhere aman canwork but theywon’t let him?By Space, Ithink it’s about time we stopped this nonsense about our so-called ‘peculiarinstitutions.’They’renotjustpeculiar;they’recracked!Ithink—”
Hewaswavinghisarmsandangrybloodwasreddeninghisface.ButArbinhadrisenfromhischair,andhisgripwasstrongontheolderman’s
shoulder. He said, “Now where’s the call to be upset, Grew? When you’rethroughwiththepaper,I’llreadtheeditorial.”“Sure,butyou’llagreewith them,sowhat’s theuse?Youyoungonesarea
bunchofmilksops;justspongerubberinthehandsoftheAncients.”AndLoasaidsharply,“Quiet,Father.Don’tstartthat.”Shesattherelistening
foramoment.Shecouldnothavesaidexactlywhatfor,but...Arbin felt that cold little prickle that always came when the Society of
Ancientswasmentioned.Itjustwasn’tsafetotalkasGrewdid,tomockEarth’sancientculture,to—to—Why,itwasrankAssimilationism.Heswallowedearnestly;thewordwasan
uglyone,evenwhenconfinedtothought.Of course in Grew’s youth there had been much of this foolish talk of
abandoningtheoldways,buttheseweredifferenttimes.Grewshouldknowthat—andheprobablydid,exceptthatitwasn’teasytobereasonableandsensiblewhenyouwereinawheel-chairprison,justwaitingawayyourdaysforthenextCensus.Grewwasperhapstheleastaffected,buthesaidnomore.Andasthemoments
passed he grew quieter and the print became progressively more difficult toplaceinfocus.Hehadnotyethadtimetogivethesportspagesadetailedandcritical perusalwhenhis noddinghead lolled slowlydownuponhis chest.Hesnored softly, and the paper fell from his fingers with a final, unintentionalrustle.ThenLoaspoke,inaworriedwhisper.“Maybewe’renotbeingkindtohim,
Arbin.It’sahardlifeforamanlikeFather.It’slikebeingdeadcomparedtothelifeheusedtolead.”“Nothing’slikebeingdead,Loa.Hehashispapersandhisbooks.Lethimbe!
A bit of excitement like this peps him up. He’ll be happy and quiet for daysnow.”Arbinwasbeginningtoconsiderhiscardsagain,andashereachedforonethe
poundingat thedoorsounded,withhoarseyells thatdidn’tquitecoalesce intowords.Arbin’shandlurchedandstopped.Loa’seyesgrewfearful;shestaredather
husbandwithatremblinglowerlip.Arbinsaid,“GetGrewoutofhere.Quickly!”Loawasat thewheelchairashespoke.Shemadesoothingsoundswithher
tongue.Butthesleepingfiguregasped,startledawakeatthefirstmotionofthechair.
Hestraightenedandgropedautomaticallyforhispaper.“What’sthematter?”hedemandedirritably,andbynomeansinawhisper.“Shh.It’sallright,”mutteredLoavaguely,andwheeledthechairintothenext
room.Sheclosedthedoorandplacedherbackagainstit,thinchestheavingashereyessoughtthoseofherhusband.Therewasthatpoundingagain.Theystoodclosetoeachotherasthedooropened,almostdefensivelyso,and
hostility peeped from them as they faced the short, plump man who smiledfaintlyatthem.Loasaid,“Isthereanythingwecandoforyou?”withaceremonialcourtesy,
then jumpedbackas themangaspedandputout ahand to stophimself fromfalling.“Ishesick?”askedArbinbewilderedly.“Here,helpmetakehiminside.”Thehoursafterthatpassed,andinthequietoftheirbedroomLoaandArbin
preparedslowlyforbed.“Arbin,”saidLoa.“Whatisit?”“Isitsafe?”“Safe?”Heseemedtoavoidhermeaningdeliberately.“Imean,takingthismanintothehouse.Whoishe?”“How should I know?”was the irritated response. “But, after all, we can’t
refuseshelter toasickman.Tomorrow, ifhe lacks identification,we’ll informtheRegionalSecurityBoard,andthatwillbetheendofit.”Heturnedawayinanobviousattemptatbreakingofftheconversation.But his wife broke the returning silence, her thin voicemore urgent. “You
don’t think hemight be an agent of theSociety ofAncients, do you?There’sGrew,youknow.”“Youmeanbecauseofwhathesaidtonight?That’spastthelimitofreason.I
won’targueaboutit.”“Idon’tmean that,andyouknow it. Imean thatwe’vebeenkeepingGrew
illegallynowfor twoyears, andyouknowwe’rebreaking just about themostseriousCustom.”Arbinmuttered, “We’reharmingnoone.We’re fillingourquota, aren’twe,
eventhoughit’ssetforthreepeople—threeworkers?Andifweare,whyshouldtheysuspectanything?Wedon’tevenlethimoutofthehouse.”“They might trace the wheel chair. You had to buy the motor and fittings
outside.”“Nowdon’tstartthatagain,Loa.I’veexplainedmanytimesthatI’vebought
nothingbutstandardkitchenequipmentforthatchair.Besides,itdoesnotmakeanysenseatall toconsiderhimanagentof theBrotherhood.Doyousuppose
thattheywouldgothroughsuchanelaboratetrickeryforthesakeofapooroldman in a wheel chair? Couldn’t they enter by daylight and with legal searchwarrants?Please,reasonthisthingout.”“Well,then,Arbin”—hereyesweresuddenlybrightandeager—“ifyoureally
thinkso—andI’vebeensohopingyouwould—hemustbeanOutsider.Hecan’tbeanEarthman.”“Whatdoyoumean,hecan’tbe?That’smoreridiculousstill.Whyshoulda
manoftheEmpirecomeheretoEarth,ofallplaces?”“Idon’tknowwhy!Yes,Ido;maybehe’scommittedacrimeoutthere.”She
was caught up instantly in her own fancy. “Why not? It makes sense. Earthwouldbethenaturalplacetocometo.Whowouldeverthinkoflookingforhimhere?”“Ifhe’sanOutsider.Whatevidencedoyouhaveforthat?”“Hedoesn’tspeakthelanguage,doeshe?You’llhavetograntmethat.Could
youunderstandasingleword?Sohemustcomefromsomefar-offcorneroftheGalaxywhere the dialect is strange. They say themen of Fomalhaut have tolearn practically a new language to be understood at the Emperor’s court onTrantor....Butdon’tyouseewhatallthiscanmean?Ifhe’sastrangeronEarth,hewillhavenoregistrationwiththeCensusBoard,andhewillbeonlytoogladtoavoidreportingtothem.Wecanusehimonthefarm,intheplaceofFather,anditwillbethreepeopleagain,nottwo,whowillhavetomeetthequotaforthreethisnextseason....Hecouldevenhelpwiththeharvestnow.”She looked anxiously at the uncertain face of her husband,who considered
long,thensaid,“Well,gotobed,Loa.We’llspeakfurtherinthecommonsenseofdaylight.”Thewhispering ended, the lightwasputout, and eventually sleep filled the
roomandthehouse.The nextmorning it wasGrew’s turn to consider thematter. Arbin put the
questiontohimhopefully.Hefeltaconfidenceinhisfather-in-lawthathecouldnotmusterinhimself.Grew said, “Your troubles, Arbin, obviously arise from the fact that I am
registered as a worker, so that the produce quota is set at three. I’m tired ofcreatingtrouble.ThisisthesecondyearIhavelivedpastmytime.Itisenough.”Arbinwasembarrassed.“Nowthatwasn’tthepointatall.I’mnothintingthat
you’reatroubletous.”“Well,afterall,what’sthedifference?IntwoyearstherewillbetheCensus,
andIwillgoanyway.”“At least youwill have twomore years of your books and your rest.Why
shouldyoubedeprivedofthat?”
“Becauseothersare.AndwhatofyouandLoa?Whentheycometotakeme,theywill take you two aswell.What kindof amanwould I be to live a fewstinkingyearsattheexpense—”“Stop it, Grew. I don’t want histrionics. We’ve told you many times what
we’regoingtodo.We’llreportyouaweekbeforetheCensus.”“Andfoolthedoctor,Isuppose?”“We’llbribethedoctor.”“Hmp.Andthisnewman—he’lldoubletheoffense.You’llbeconcealinghim
too.”“We’llturnhimloose.ForSpace’ssake,whybotheraboutthisnow?Wehave
twoyears.Whatshallwedowithhim?”“A stranger,” mused Grew. “He comes knocking at the door. He’s from
nowhere.Hespeaksunintelligibly....Idon’tknowwhattoadvise.”Thefarmersaid,“He ismild-mannered;seemsfrightened todeath.Hecan’t
dousanyharm.”“Frightened, eh?What if he’s feeble-minded?What if his babbling isn’t a
foreigndialectatall,butjustinsanemouthing?”“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikely.”ButArbinstirreduneasily.“Youtellyourselfthatbecauseyouwanttousehim....Allright,I’lltellyou
whattodo.Takehimintotown.”“ToChica?”Arbinwashorrified.“Thatwouldberuin.”“Notatall,”saidGrewcalmly.“Thetroublewithyouis thatyoudon’tread
thenewspapers.Fortunatelyforthisfamily,Ido.ItsohappensthattheInstituteforNuclearResearchhasdevelopedan instrument that is supposed tomake iteasier for people to learn. There was a full-page spread in the Week-endSupplement.Andtheywantvolunteers.Takethisman.Lethimbeavolunteer.”Arbin shookhis head firmly. “You’remad. I couldn’t do anything like that,
Grew. They’ll ask for his registration number first thing. It’s only invitinginvestigation to have things in improper order, and then they’ll find out aboutyou.”“No, they won’t. It so happens you’re all wrong, Arbin. The reason the
Institutewantsvolunteersisthatthemachineisstillexperimental.It’sprobablykilled a fewpeople, so I’m sure theywon’t askquestions.And if the strangerdies,he’llprobablybenoworseoffthanheisnow....Here,Arbin,handmethebookprojectorandsetthemarkatreelsix.Andbringmethepaperassoonasitcomes,willyou?”WhenSchwartzopenedhiseyes,itwaspastnoon.Hefeltthatdull,heart-
choking pain that feeds on itself, the pain of a wife no longer by his side atwaking,ofafamiliarworldlost...Once before he had felt such a pain, and thatmomentary flash ofmemory
came, lightingupa forgotten scene into sharpbrilliance.Therewashimself, ayoungster,inthesnowofthewintryvillage...withthesleighwaiting...attheendofwhosejourneywouldbethetrain...and,afterthat,thegreatship...The longing, frustratingfear for theworldof thefamiliarunitedhimfor the
momentwiththattwenty-year-oldwhohademigratedtoAmerica.Thefrustrationwastooreal.Thiscouldnotbeadream.He jumped up as the light above the door blinked on and off and the
meaninglessbaritoneofhishostsounded.Thenthedooropenedandtherewasbreakfast—amealyporridge thathedidnot recognizebutwhich tasted faintlylikecornmush(withasavorydifference)andmilk.Hesaid,“Thanks,”andnoddedhisheadvigorously.The farmer said something in return and picked up Schwartz’s shirt from
where it hung on the back of the chair. He inspected it carefully from alldirections,payingparticularattentiontothebuttons.Then,replacingit,heflungopentheslidingdoorofacloset,andforthefirsttimeSchwartzbecamevisuallyawareofthewarmmilkinessofthewalls.“Plastic,” he muttered to himself, using that all-inclusive word with the
finalitylaymenalwaysdo.Henotedfurtherthattherewerenocornersoranglesintheroom,allplanesfadingintoeachotheratagentlecurve.But theotherwasholdingobjectsout towardhimandwasmakinggestures
thatcouldnotbemistaken.Schwartzobviouslywastowashanddress.Withhelpanddirections,heobeyed.Exceptthathefoundnothingwithwhich
toshave,norcouldgesturestohischinelicitanythingbutanincomprehensiblesound accompanied by a look of distinct revulsion on the part of the other.Schwartzscratchedathisgraystubbleandsighedwindily.Andthenhewasledtoasmall,elongated,biwheeledcar,intowhichhewas
orderedbygestures.Thegroundspedbeneaththemandtheemptyroadmovedbackward on either side, until low, sparklingwhite buildings rose before him,andthere,farahead,wastheblueofwater.Hepointedeagerly.“Chicago?”It was the last gasp of hope within him, for certainly nothing he ever saw
lookedlesslikethatcity.Thefarmermadenoansweratall.Andthelasthopedied.
3
OneWorld—orMany?
BelArvardan,freshfromhisinterviewwiththepress,ontheoccasionof his forthcoming expedition to Earth, felt at supreme peace with all thehundredmillionstarsystemsthatcomposedtheall-embracingGalacticEmpire.Itwasnolongeraquestionofbeingknowninthissectororthat.Lethistheoriesconcerning Earth be proven and his reputation would be assured on everyinhabitedplanetoftheMilkyWay,oneveryplanetthatManhadsetfootthroughthehundredsofthousandsofyearsofexpansionthroughspace.Thesepotentialheightsof renown, thesepureand rarefied intellectualpeaks
ofsciencewerecomingtohimearly,yetnoteasily.Hewasscarcelythirty-five,butalreadyhiscareerhadbeenpackedwithcontroversy. Ithadbegunwithanexplosion thathadrockedthehallsof theUniversityofArcturuswhenhefirstgraduatedasSeniorArchaeologistfromthatinstitutionattheunprecedentedageof twenty-three. The explosion—no less effective for being immaterial—consisted of the rejection for publication, on the part of the Journal of theGalacticArchaeologicalSociety,ofhisSeniorDissertation.Itwasthefirsttimein the history of the university that aSeniorDissertationhadbeen rejected. Itwasequallythefirst timeinthehistoryofthatstaidprofessionaljournalthatarejectionhadbeencouchedinsuchbluntterms.Toanon-archaeologist,thereasonforsuchangeragainstanobscureanddry
little pamphlet, entitledOn the Antiquity of Artifacts in the Sirius Sector withConsiderationsoftheApplicationThereoftotheRadiationHypothesisofHuman
Origin,mightseemmysterious.Whatwasinvolved,however,wasthatfromthefirst Arvardan adopted as his own the hypothesis advanced earlier by certaingroups of mystics who were more concerned with metaphysics than witharchaeology;i.e.,thatHumanityhadoriginateduponsomesingleplanetandhadradiated by degrees throughout the Galaxy. This was a favorite theory of thefantasywritersoftheday,andthebêtenoireofeveryrespectablearchaeologistoftheEmpire.But Arvardan became a force to be reckoned with by even the most
respectable,forwithinthedecadehehadbecometherecognizedauthorityontherelicsof thepre-Empireculturesstill left intheeddiesandquietbackwatersoftheGalaxy.For instance,hehadwrittenamonographon themechanisticcivilizationof
theRigelSector,wherethedevelopmentofrobotscreatedaseparateculturethatpersisted for centuries, till the very perfection of themetal slaves reduced thehumaninitiativetothepointwherethevigorousfleetsoftheWarLord,Moray,took easy control. Orthodox archaeology insisted on the evolution of Humantypes independentlyonvariousplanetsandusedsuchatypicalcultures,as thaton Rigel, as examples of race differences that had not yet been ironed outthroughintermarriage.Arvardandestroyedsuchconceptseffectivelybyshowingthat Rigellian robot culture was but a natural outgrowth of the economic andsocialforcesofthetimesandoftheregion.ThentherewerethebarbarousworldsofOphiuchus,whichtheorthodoxhad
longupheldassamplesofprimitiveHumanitynotyetadvancedtothestageofinterstellartravel.EverytextbookusedthoseworldsasthebestevidenceoftheMergerTheory;i.e., thatHumanitywas thenaturalclimaxofevolutiononanyworld based upon a water-oxygen chemistry with proper intensities oftemperature and gravitation; that each independent strain of Humanity couldintermarry;thatwiththediscoveryofinterstellartravel,suchintermarriagetookplace.Arvardan, however, uncovered traces of the early civilization that had
precededthethenthousand-year-oldbarbarismofOphiuchusandprovedthattheearliestrecordsoftheplanetshowedtracesofinterstellartrade.Thefinaltouchcamewhenhedemonstratedbeyondanydoubt thatManhad emigrated to theregioninanalreadycivilizedstate.ItwasafterthatthattheJ.Gal.Arch.Soc.(togivetheJournalitsprofessional
abbreviation) decided to print Arvardan’s Senior Dissertation more than tenyearsafterithadbeenpresented.And now the pursuit of his pet theory led Arvardan to probably the least
significantplanetoftheEmpire—theplanetcalledEarth.
Arvardan landed at that one spot of Empire on all Earth, that patchamongthedesolateheightsoftheplateausnorthoftheHimalayas.Therewhereradioactivitywasnot,andneverhadbeen,theregleamedapalacethatwasnotofTerrestrial architecture. In essence it was a copy of the viceregal palaces thatexistedonmorefortunateworlds.Thesoftlushnessofthegroundswasbuiltforcomfort.Theforbiddingrockshadbeencoveredwithtopsoil,watered,immersedinanartificialatmosphereandclimate—andconvertedintofivesquaremilesoflawnsandflowergardens.The cost in energy involved in this performance was terrific by Earthly
calculations,but ithadbehind it thecompletely incredible resourcesof tensofmillionsofplanets,continuallygrowinginnumber.(IthasbeenestimatedthatintheYearoftheGalacticEra827anaverageoffiftynewplanetseachdaywereachievingthedignityofprovincialstatus,thisconditionrequiringtheattainmentofapopulationoffivehundredmillions.)Inthisspotofnon-EarthlivedtheProcuratorofEarth,andsometimes,inthis
artificialluxury,hecouldforgetthathewasaProcuratorofaratholeworldandrememberthathewasanaristocratofgreathonorandancientfamily.Hiswifewasperhapslessoftendeluded,particularlyatsuchtimesas,topping
agrassyknoll, shecouldsee in thedistance thesharp,decisive lineseparatingthe grounds from the fierce wilderness of Earth. It was then that not all thecolored fountains (luminescent at night, with an effect of cold liquid fire),floweredwalks,or idyllicgrovescouldcompensate for theknowledgeof theirexile.SoperhapsArvardanwaswelcomedevenmorethanprotocolmightcallfor.
TotheProcurator,afterall,ArvardanwasabreathofEmpire,ofspaciousness,ofboundlessness.AndArvardanforhispartfoundmuchtoadmire.Hesaid,“Thisisdonewell—andwithtaste.Itisamazinghowatouchofthe
central culture permeates the most outlying districts of our Empire, LordEnnius.”Ennius smiled. “I’m afraid the Procurator’s court here on Earth is more
pleasanttovisitthantolivein.Itisbutashellthatringshollowlywhentouched.Whenyouhaveconsideredmyself and family, the staff, the Imperialgarrison,both here and in the important planetary centers, together with an occasionalvisitorsuchasyourself,youhaveexhaustedall thetouchofthecentralculturethatexists.Itseemsscarcelyenough.”They sat in the colonnade in the dying afternoon, with the sun glinting
downwardtowardthemist-purpledjagsofthehorizonandtheairsoheavywiththescentofgrowingthingsthatitsmotionsweremerelysighsofexertion.Itwas,ofcourse,notquitesuitableforevenaProcuratortoshowtoogreata
curiosity about the doings of a guest, but that does not take into account theinhumanityofday-to-dayisolationfromalltheEmpire.Enniussaid,“Doyouplantostayforsometime,Dr.Arvardan?”“Astothat,LordEnnius,Icannotsurelysay.Ihavecomeaheadoftherestof
myexpeditioninordertoacquaintmyselfwithEarth’scultureandtofulfillthenecessary legal requirements. For instance, I must obtain the usual officialpermissionfromyoutoestablishcampsatthenecessarysites,andsoon.”“Ohgranted,granted!Butwhendoyoustartdigging?Andwhatevercanyou
possiblyexpecttofindonthismiserableheapofrubble?”“Ihope,ifallgoeswell,tobeabletosetupcampinafewmonths.Andasto
thisworld—why, it’s anythingbut amiserableheap. It is absolutelyunique intheGalaxy.”“Unique?”saidtheProcuratorstiffly.“Notatall!Itisaveryordinaryworld.It
ismoreorlessofapigpenofaworld,orahorribleholeofaworld,oracesspoolofaworld,oralmostanyotherparticularlyderogativeadjectiveyoucaretouse.Andyet,withallitsrefinementofnausea,itcannotevenachieveuniquenessinvillainy,butremainsanordinary,brutishpeasantworld.”“But,”saidArvardan,somewhattakenabackbytheenergyoftheinconsistent
statementsthusthrownathim,“theworldisradioactive.”“Well,whatofthat?SomethousandsofplanetsintheGalaxyareradioactive,
andsomeareconsiderablymoresothanEarth.”It was at this moment that the soft-gliding motion of the mobile cabinet
attractedtheirattention.Itcametoahaltwithineasyhandreach.Enniusgesturedtowarditandsaidtotheother,“Whatwouldyouprefer?”“I’mnotparticular.Alimetwist,perhaps.”“That can be handled. The cabinet will have the ingredients. . . . With or
withoutChensey?”“Justaboutatangofit,”saidArvardan,andhelduphisforefingerandthumb,
nearlytouching.“You’llhaveitinaminute.”Somewhereinthebowelsofthecabinet(perhapsthemostuniversallypopular
mechanicaloffspringofhumaningenuity)abartenderwentintoaction—anon-humanbartenderwhoseelectronicsoulmixedthingsnotbyjiggersbutbyatomcounts,whoseratioswereperfecteverytime,andwhocouldnotbematchedbyalltheinspiredartistryofanyonemerelyhuman.The tall glasses appeared from nowhere, it seemed, as they waited in the
appropriaterecesses.Arvardantookthegreenoneand,foramoment,feltthechillofitagainsthis
cheek.Thenheplacedtherimtohislipsandtasted.“Justright,”hesaid.Heplacedtheglassinthewell-fittedholderinthearmof
hischairandsaid,“Thousandsofradioactiveplanets,Procurator,justasyousay,butonlyoneofthemisinhabited.Thisone,Procurator.”“Well”—Enniussmackedhislipsoverhisowndrinkandseemedtolosesome
ofhissharpnessaftercontactwithitsvelvet—“perhapsitisuniqueinthatway.It’sanunenviabledistinction.”“But it is not just a question of statistical uniqueness.” Arvardan spoke
deliberately between occasional sips. “It goes further; it has tremendouspotentialities.Biologistshaveshown,orclaimtohaveshown,thatonplanetsinwhichtheintensityofradioactivityintheatmosphereandintheseasisaboveacertainpointlifewillnotdevelop....Earth’sradioactivityisabovethatpointbyaconsiderablemargin.”“Interesting. Ididn’tknowthat. I imagine that thiswouldconstitutedefinite
proof that Earth life is fundamentally different from that of the rest of theGalaxy. . . . That should suit you, since you’re from Sirius.” He seemedsardonicallyamusedatthispointandsaidinaconfidentialaside,“Doyouknowthatthebiggestsingledifficultyinvolvedinrulingthisplanetliesincopingwiththe intense anti-Terrestrialism that exists throughout the entire Sirius Sector?AndthefeelingisreturnedwithinterestonthepartoftheseEarthmen.I’mnotsaying, of course, that anti-Terrestrialism doesn’t exist inmore or less dilutedforminmanyplacesintheGalaxy,butnotlikeonSirius.”Arvardan’sresponsewas impatientandvehement.“LordEnnius, I reject the
implication.Ihaveaslittleintoleranceinmeasanymanliving.Ibelieveintheoneness of humanity tomy very scientific core, and that includes evenEarth.Andalllifeisfundamentallyone,inthatitisallbaseduponproteincomplexesincolloidaldispersion,whichwecallprotoplasm.TheeffectofradioactivitythatIjusttalkedofdoesnotapplysimplytosomeformsofhumanlife,ortosomeforms of any life. It applies to all life, since it is based upon the quantummechanics of the proteinmolecules. It applies to you, tome, to Earthmen, tospiders,andtogerms.“Yousee,proteins,asIprobablyneedn’ttellyou,areimmenselycomplicated
groupingsofaminoacidsandcertainotherspecializedcompounds,arrangedinintricatethree-dimensionalpatternsthatareasunstableassunbeamsonacloudyday.Itisthisinstabilitythatislife,sinceitisforeverchangingitspositioninaneffort to maintain its identity—in the manner of a long rod balanced on anacrobat’snose.
“But this marvelous chemical, this protein, must be first built up out ofinorganicmatterbeforelifecanexist.So,attheverybeginning,bytheinfluenceof the sun’s radiant energy upon those huge solutionswe call oceans, organicmoleculesgraduallyincreaseincomplexityfrommethanetoformaldehydeandfinallytosugarsandstarchesinonedirection,andfromureatoaminoacidsandproteins in another direction. It’s a matter of chance, of course, thesecombinations anddisintegrations of atoms, and the process ononeworldmaytakemillionsofyearswhileonanotheritmaytakeonlyhundreds.Ofcourseitismuch more probable that it will take millions of years. In fact, it is mostprobablethatitwillendupneverhappening.“Nowphysicalorganicchemistshaveworkedoutwithgreatexactnessallthe
reaction chain involved, particularly the energetics thereof; that is, the energyrelationshipsinvolvedineachatomshift.Itisnowknownbeyondtheshadowofadoubtthatseveralofthecrucialstepsinthebuildingofliferequiretheabsenceof radiant energy. If this strikes you as queer, Procurator, I can only say thatphotochemistry(thechemistryofreactionsinducedbyradiantenergy)isawell-developedbranchofthescience,andthereareinnumerablecasesofverysimplereactions which will go in one of two different directions depending uponwhetherittakesplaceinthepresenceorabsenceofquantaoflightenergy.“Inordinaryworldsthesunistheonlysourceofradiantenergy,or,atleast,by
farthemajorsource.Intheshelterofclouds,oratnight,thecarbonandnitrogencompounds combine and recombine, in the fashions made possible by theabsenceofthoselittlebitsofenergyhurledintothemidstofthembythesun—likebowlingballsintothemidstofaninfinitenumberofinfinitesimaltenpins.“Butonradioactiveworlds,sunornosun,everydropofwater—eveninthe
deepestnight, even fivemilesunder—sparklesandburstswithdartinggammarays, kicking up the carbon atoms—activating them, the chemists say—andforcing certain key reactions to proceed only in certainways,ways that neverresultinlife.”Arvardan’sdrinkwasgone.Heplacedtheemptyglassonthewaitingcabinet.
Itwaswithdrawn instantly into thespecialcompartmentwhere itwascleaned,sterilized,andmadereadyforthenextdrink.“Anotherone?”askedEnnius.“Askmeafterdinner,”saidArvardan.“I’vehadquiteenoughfornow.”Enniustappedataperingfingernailuponthearmofhischairandsaid,“You
maketheprocesssoundquitefascinating,butifallisasyousay,thenwhataboutthelifeonEarth?Howdiditdevelop?”“Ah,yousee,evenyouarebeginning towonder.But theanswer, I think, is
simple.Radioactivity,inexcessoftheminimumrequiredtopreventlife,isstill
notnecessarilysufficienttodestroylifealreadyformed.Itmightmodifyit,but,except in comparatively huge excess, it will not destroy it. . . . You see, thechemistry involved is different. In the first case, simple molecules must beprevented from building up, while in the second, already-formed complexmoleculesmustbebrokendown.Notatallthesamething.”“Idon’tgettheapplicationofthatatall,”saidEnnius.“Isn’t it obvious? Life on Earth originated before the planet became
radioactive.MydearProcurator,itistheonlypossibleexplanationthatdoesnotinvolve denying either the fact of life on Earth or enough chemical theory toupsethalfthescience.”Enniusgazedattheotherinamazeddisbelief.“Butyoucan’tmeanthat.”“Whynot?”“Because how can a world become radioactive? The life of the radioactive
elements in the planet’s crust are in the millions and billions of years. I’velearnedthat,atleast,duringmyuniversitycareer,eveninapre-lawcourse.Theymusthaveexistedindefinitelyinthepast.”“But there issucha thingasartificialradioactivity,LordEnnius—evenona
huge scale. There are thousands of nuclear reactions of sufficient energy tocreateallsortsofradioactiveisotopes.Why,ifweweretosupposethathumanbeings might use some applied nuclear reaction in industry, without propercontrols,oreveninwar,ifyoucanimagineanythinglikeawarproceedingonasingle planet, most of the topsoil could, conceivably, be converted intoartificiallyradioactivematerials.Whatdoyousaytothat?”The sunhadexpired inbloodon themountains, andEnnius’s thin facewas
ruddyinthereflectionofthatprocess.Thegentleeveningwindstirred,andthedrowsymurmurofthecarefullyselectedvarietiesofinsectlifeuponthepalacegroundswasmoresoothingthanever.Enniussaid,“It soundsveryartificial tome.Forone thing, Ican’tconceive
usingnuclearreactionsinwarorlettingthemgetoutofcontroltothisextentinanymanner—”“Naturally, sir, you tend to underestimate nuclear reactions because you’re
livinginthepresent,whenthey’resoeasilycontrolled.Butwhatifsomeone—orsomearmy—usedsuchweaponsbefore thedefensehadbeenworkedout?Forinstance,it’slikeusingfirebombsbeforeanyoneknewthatwaterorsandwouldputoutfire.”“Hmm,”saidEnnius,“yousoundlikeShekt.”“Who’sShekt?”Arvardanlookedupquickly.“AnEarthman.Oneofthefewdecentones—Imean,onethatagentlemancan
speak to.He’s a physicist.He toldme once thatEarthmight not always have
beenradioactive.”“Ah....Well,that’snotunusual,sincethetheoryiscertainlynotoriginalwith
me. It’s part of the Book of the Ancients, which contains the traditional, ormythical,historyofprehistoricEarth.I’msayingwhatitsays,inaway,exceptthat I’m putting its rather elliptical phraseology into equivalent scientificstatements.”“The Book of the Ancients?” Ennius seemed surprised, and a little upset.
“Wheredidyougetthat?”“Hereand there. Itwasn’teasy,andIonlyobtainedparts.Ofcourseall this
traditional information about nonradioactivity, even where completelyunscientific,isimportanttomyproject....Whydoyouask?”“Because the book is the revered text of a radical sect of Earthmen. It is
forbidden for Outsiders to read it. I wouldn’t broadcast the fact that you did,either,whileyou’rehere.Non-Earthmen,orOutsiders, as theycall them,havebeenlynchedforless.”“YoumakeitsoundasiftheImperialpolicepowerhereisdefective.”“Itisincasesofsacrilege.Awordtothewise,Dr.Arvardan!”Amelodiouschimesoundedavibrantnotethatseemedtoharmonizewiththe
rustlingwhisperofthetrees.Itfadedoutslowly,lingeringasthoughinlovewithitssurroundings.Enniusrose.“Ibelieveit is timefordinner.Willyoujoinme,sir,andenjoy
suchhospitalityasthishuskofEmpireonEarthcanafford?”An occasion for an elaborate dinner came infrequently enough.An excuse,
even a slim one, was not to be missed. So the courses were many, thesurroundingslavish,themenpolished,andthewomenbewitching.And,itmustbe added, Dr. B. Arvardan of Baronn, Sirius, was lionized to quite anintoxicatingextent.Arvardan took advantageof his dinner audience during the latter portionof
thebanquettorepeatmuchofwhathehadsaidtoEnnius,butherehisexpositionmetwithmarkedlylesssuccess.Afloridgentlemanincolonel’suniformleanedtowardhimwiththatmarked
condescensionof themilitarymanfor thescholarandsaid,“IfI interpretyourexpressionsrightly,Dr.Arvardan,youaretryingtotellusthatthesehoundsofEarth represent an ancient race that may once have been the ancestors of allhumanity?”“I hesitate, Colonel, to make the flat assertion, but I think there is an
interestingchancethatitmightbeso.AyearfromnowIconfidentlyhopetobeabletomakeadefinitejudgment.”“If you find that they are, Doctor, which I strongly doubt,” rejoined the
colonel,“youwillastonishmebeyondmeasure.IhavebeenstationedonEarthnow for four years, and my experience is not of the smallest. I find theseEarthmen toberoguesandknaves,everyoneof them.Theyaredefinitelyourinferiorsintellectually.TheylackthatsparkthathasspreadhumanitythroughouttheGalaxy.Theyarelazy,superstitious,avaricious,andwithnotraceofnobilityofsoul.Idefyyou,oranyone,toshowmeanEarthmanwhocaninanywaybeanequalofanytrueman—yourselformyself,forinstance—andonlythenwillIgrantyouthathemayrepresentaracewhooncewereourancestors.But,untilthen,pleaseexcusemefrommakinganysuchassumption.”Aportlymanatthefootofthetablesaidsuddenly,“Theysaytheonlygood
Earthman is a dead Earthman, and that even then they generally stink,” andlaughedimmoderately.Arvardanfrownedatthedishbeforehimandsaid,withoutlookingup,“Ihave
nodesiretoargueracialdifferences,especiallysinceitisirrelevantinthiscase.It is theEarthmanofprehistory that Ispeakof.Hisdescendantsof todayhavebeenlongisolated,andhavebeensubjectedtoamostunusualenvironment—yetIstillwouldnotdismissthemtoocasually.”He turned to Ennius and said, “My Lord, I believe you mentioned an
Earthmanbeforedinner.”“Idid?Idon’trecall.”“Aphysicist.Shekt.”“Ohyes.Yes.”“AffretShekt,perhaps?”“Why,yes.Haveyouheardofhim?”“I think I have. It’s been bothering me all through dinner, ever since you
mentionedhim,but I think I’veplacedhim.Hewouldn’tbeat the InstituteofNuclearResearchat—Oh,what’sthenameofthatdamnedplace?”Hestruckathisforeheadwiththeheelofhispalmonceortwice.“AtChica?”“Youhavetherightperson.Whatabouthim?”“Only this. There was an article by him in the August issue of Physical
Reviews. I noticed it because I was looking for anything that had to do withEarth,andarticlesbyEarthmeninjournalsofGalacticcirculationareveryrare.. . . In anycase, thepoint I am trying tomake is that themanclaims tohavedeveloped somethinghecalls aSynapsifier,which is supposed to improve thelearningcapacityofthemammaliannervoussystem.”“Really?”saidEnniusabittoosharply.“Ihaven’theardaboutit.”“I can find you the reference. It’s quite an interesting article; though, of
course, I can’t pretend to understand the mathematics involved.What he hasdone,however,hasbeentotreatsomeindigenousanimalformonEarth—rats,I
believe they call them—with the Synapsifier and then put them to solving amaze. You know what I mean: learning the proper pathway through a tinylabyrinth to some food supply.Heusednon-treated rats as controls and foundthatineverycasetheSynapsifiedratssolvedthemazeinlessthanonethirdthetime....Doyouseethesignificance,Colonel?”The military man who had initiated the discussion said indifferently, “No,
Doctor,Idonot.”“I’ll explain, then, that I firmly believe that any scientist capable of doing
suchwork,evenanEarthman,iscertainlymyintellectualequal,atleast,and,ifyou’llpardonmypresumption,yoursaswell.”Ennius interrupted. “Pardonme,Dr.Arvardan. Iwould like to return to the
Synapsifier.HasShektexperimentedwithhumanbeings?”Arvardan laughed. “I doubt it, Lord Ennius.Nine tenths of his Synapsified
rats died during treatment. He would scarcely dare use human subjects untilmuchmoreprogresshasbeenmade.”SoEnniussankback intohischairwitha slight frownonhis foreheadand,
thereafter,neitherspokenoratefortheremainderofthedinner.BeforemidnighttheProcuratorhadquietlyleftthegatheringand,withabare
wordtohiswifeonly,departedinhisprivatecruiseronthetwo-hourtriptothecityofChica,withtheslightfrownstillonhisforeheadandaraginganxietyinhisheart.Thusitwasthatonthe sameafternoon thatArbinMarenbrought JosephSchwartz intoChica for treatmentwithShekt’sSynapsifier, Shekt himself hadbeenclosetedwithnonelessthantheProcuratorofEarthforoveranhour.
4
TheRoyalRoad
ArbinwasuneasyinChica.Hefeltsurrounded.SomewhereinChica,oneofthelargestcitiesonEarth—theysaidithadfiftythousandhumanbeingsinit—somewheretherewereofficialsofthegreatouterEmpire.To be sure, he had never seen aman of theGalaxy; yet here, inChica, his
neckwascontinuallytwistinginfearthathemight.Ifpinneddown,hecouldnothaveexplainedhowhewouldidentifyanOutsiderfromanEarthman,evenifheweretoseeone,butitwasinhisverymarrowtofeelthattherewas,somehow,adifference.HelookedbackoverhisshoulderasheenteredtheInstitute.Hisbiwheelwas
parkedinanopenarea,withasix-hourcouponholdingaspotopenforit.Wastheextravaganceitselfsuspicious?. . .Everythingfrightenedhimnow.Theairwasfullofeyesandears.Ifonlythestrangemanwouldremembertoremainhiddeninthebottomofthe
rear compartment.He had nodded violently—but had he understood?Hewassuddenly impatient with himself. Why had he let Grew talk him into thismadness?Andthensomehowthedoorwasopeninfrontofhimandavoicehadbroken
inonhisthoughts.Itsaid,“Whatdoyouwant?”Itsoundedimpatient;perhapsithadalreadyaskedhimthatsamethingseveral
times.
Heansweredhoarsely,words chokingout of his throat likedrypowder, “IsthiswhereamancanapplyfortheSynapsifier?”Thereceptionistlookedupsharplyandsaid,“Signhere.”Arbinput his hands behindhis back and repeatedhuskily, “Where do I see
about the Synapsifier?”Grew had told him the name, but theword came outqueerly,likesomuchgibberish.Butthereceptionistsaid,withironinhervoice,“Ican’tdoanythingforyou
unlessyousigntheregisterasavisitor.It’sintherules.”Without a word, Arbin turned to go. The young woman behind the desk
pressed her lips together and kicked the signal bar at the side of her chairviolently.Arbinwasfightingdesperatelyforalackofnotorietyandfailingmiserablyin
his own mind. This girl was looking hard at him. She’d remember him athousandyearslater.Hehadawilddesiretorun,runbacktothecar,backtothefarm...Someoneinawhitelabcoatwascomingrapidlyoutofanotherroom,andthe
receptionistwas pointing to him. “Volunteer for the Synapsifier,Miss Shekt,”shewassaying.“Hewon’tgivehisname.”Arbin lookedup. Itwasstill anothergirl,young.He lookeddisturbed.“Are
youinchargeofthemachine,miss?”“No,notatall.”Shesmiledinaveryfriendlyfashion,andArbinfeltanxiety
ebbslightly.“Icantakeyoutohim,though,”shewenton.Then,eagerly,“Doyoureally
wanttovolunteerfortheSynapsifier?”“Ijustwanttoseethemanincharge,”Arbinsaidwoodenly.“All right.”She seemednot at all disturbedby the rebuff.She slippedback
through the door from which she had come. There was a short wait. Then,finally,therewasthebeckonofafinger...Hefollowedher,heartpounding, intoasmallanteroom.Shesaidgently,“If
youwillwaitabouthalfanhourorless,Dr.Shektwillbewithyou.Heisverybusyjustnow....Ifyouwouldlikesomebookfilmsandaviewertopassthetime,I’llbringthemtoyou.”ButArbinshookhishead.Thefourwallsofthesmallroomclosedabouthim,
andheldhim rigid, it seemed.Washe trapped?Were theAncientscoming forhim?ItwasthelongestwaitinArbin’slife.
Lord Ennius, Procurator of Earth, had experienced no comparable
difficultiesinseeingDr.Shekt,thoughhehadexperiencedanalmostcomparableexcitement.InhisfourthyearasProcurator,avisit toChicawasstillanevent.As the direct representative of the remote Emperor, his social standing was,legalistically, upon a parwith viceroys of hugeGalactic sectors that sprawledtheirgleamingvolumesacrosshundredsofcubicparsecsofspace,but,actually,hispostwaslittleshortofexile.Trapped as he was in the sterile emptiness of the Himalayas, among the
equally sterile quarrels of a population that hated him and the Empire herepresented,evenatriptoChicawasescape.Tobesure,hisescapeswereshortones.Theyhad tobeshort, sincehereat
Chicaitwasnecessarytowearlead-impregnatedclothesatalltimes,evenwhilesleeping,and,whatwasworse,todoseoneselfcontinuallywithmetaboline.HespokebitterlyofthattoShekt.“Metaboline,”hesaid,holdingupthevermilionpillforinspection,“isperhaps
atruesymbolofall thatyourplanetmeanstome,myfriend.Itsfunctionis toheighten all metabolic processes while I sit here immersed in the radioactivecloudthatsurroundsmeandwhichyouarenotevenawareof.”He swallowed it. “There!Nowmyheartwill beatmore quickly;my breath
will pump a race of its own accord; and my liver will boil away in thosechemicalsynthesesthat,medicalmentellme,makeitthemostimportantfactoryin the body. And for that I pay with a siege of headaches and lassitudeafterward.”Dr. Shekt listened with some amusement. He gave a strong impression of
being nearsighted, did Shekt, not because hewore glasses orwas in anywayafflicted,butmerelybecauselonghabithadgivenhimtheunconscioustrickofpeeringcloselyatthings,ofweighingallfactsanxiouslybeforesayinganything.Hewastallandinhislatemiddleage,histhinfigureslightlystooped.ButhewaswellreadinmuchofGalacticculture,andhewasrelativelyfreeof
thetrickofuniversalhostilityandsuspicionthatmadetheaverageEarthmansorepulsiveeventosocosmopolitanamanoftheEmpireasEnnius.Shektsaid,“I’msureyoudon’tneedthepill.Metabolineis justoneofyour
superstitions, andyouknow it. If Iwere to substitute sugar pillswithout yourknowledge, you’d be none the worse. What’s more, you would evenpsychosomaticizeyourselfintosimilarheadachesafterward.”“Yousaythatinthecomfortofyourownenvironment.Doyoudenythatyour
basalmetabolismishigherthanmine?”“Of course I don’t, but what of it? I know that it is a superstition of the
Empire,Ennius,thatwemenofEartharedifferentfromotherhumanbeings,butthat’snotreallysointheessentials.Orareyoucominghereasamissionaryof
theanti-Terrestrians?”Ennius groaned. “By the life of the Emperor, your comrades of Earth are
themselves the best suchmissionaries. Living here, as they do, cooped up ontheirdeadlyplanet,festeringintheirownanger, they’renothingbutastandingulcerintheGalaxy.“I’m serious, Shekt. What planet has so much ritual in its daily life and
adheres to it with such masochistic fury? Not a day passes but I receivedelegationsfromoneoranotherofyourrulingbodiesforthedeathpenaltyforsomepoordevilwhoseonlycrimehasbeentoinvadeaforbiddenarea,toevadetheSixty,orperhapsmerelytoeatmorethanhisshareoffood.”“Ah,butyoualwaysgrantthedeathpenalty.Youridealisticdistasteseemsto
stopshortatresisting.”“TheStarsaremywitnessthatIstruggletodenythedeath.Butwhatcanone
do? The Emperorwill have it that all the subdivisions of the Empire are toremainundisturbed in their local customs—and that is right andwise, since itremovespopularsupportfromthefoolswhowouldotherwisekickuprebelliononalternateTuesdaysandThursdays.Besides,wereItoremainobduratewhenyourCouncils andSenatesandChambers insiston thedeath, sucha shriekingwouldariseandsuchawildhowlingandsuchdenunciationof theEmpireandall its works that I would sooner sleep in themidst of a legion of devils fortwentyyearsthanfacesuchanEarthfortenminutes.”Shektsighedandrubbedthethinhairbackuponhisskull.“Totherestofthe
Galaxy,iftheyareawareofusatall,Earthisbutapebbleinthesky.Tousitishome,andallthehomeweknow.Yetwearenodifferentfromyouoftheouterworlds,merelymoreunfortunate.Wearecrowdedhereonaworldallbutdead,immersed within a wall of radiation that imprisons us, surrounded by a hugeGalaxy that rejects us.What canwe do against the feeling of frustration thatburnsus?Wouldyou,Procurator,bewillingthatwesendoursurpluspopulationabroad?”Enniusshrugged.“WouldIcare?Itistheoutsidepopulationsthemselvesthat
would.Theydon’tcaretofallvictimtoTerrestrialdiseases.”“Terrestrialdiseases!”Shektscowled.“It isanonsensicalnotion that should
beeradicated.Wearenotcarriersofdeath.Areyoudeadforhavingbeenamongus?”“Tobesure,”smiledEnnius,“Idoeverythingtopreventunduecontact.”“Itisbecauseyouyourselffearthepropagandacreated,afterall,onlybythe
stupidityofyourownbigots.”“Why, Shekt, no scientific basis at all to the theory that Earthmen are
themselvesradioactive?”
“Yes,certainlytheyare.Howcouldtheyavoidit?Soareyou.Soiseveryoneoneveryoneof thehundredmillionplanetsof theEmpire.Wearemore so, Igrantyou,butscarcelyenoughtoharmanyone.”“ButtheaveragemanoftheGalaxybelievestheopposite,Iamafraid,andis
notdesirousoffindingoutbyexperiment.Besides—”“Besides, you’re going to say, we’re different. We’re not human beings,
because we mutate more rapidly, due to atomic radiation, and have thereforechangedinmanyways....Alsonotproven.”“Butbelieved.”“Andaslongasit issobelieved,Procurator,andaslongasweofEarthare
treatedaspariahs,youaregoing to find inus thecharacteristics towhichyouobject. If you push us intolerably, is it to bewondered at thatwe push back?Hatingusasyoudo,canyoucomplainthatwehateinourturn?No,no,wearefarmoretheoffendedthantheoffending.”Ennius was chagrined at the anger he had raised. Even the best of these
Earthmen,hethought,havethesameblindspot,thesamefeelingofEarthversusalltheuniverse.He said tactfully, “Shekt, forgivemyboorishness,will you?Takemyyouth
andboredomasexcuse.Youseebeforeyouapoorman,ayoungfellowofforty—and forty is the age of a babe in the professional civil service—who isgrindingouthisapprenticeshiphereonEarth.ItmaybeyearsbeforethefoolsintheBureauoftheOuterProvincesremembermelongenoughtopromotemetosomethinglessdeadly.SowearebothprisonersofEarthandbothcitizensofthegreat world of the mind in which there is distinction of neither planet norphysicalcharacteristics.Givemeyourhand,then,andletusbefriends.”The lines onShekt’s face smoothedout, or,more exactly,were replacedby
othersmoreindicativeofgoodhumor.Helaughedoutright.“Thewordsarethewordsof a suppliant, but the tone is still that of the Imperial career diplomat.Youareapooractor,Procurator.”“Thencountermebybeingagoodteacher,andtellmeofthisSynapsifierof
yours.”Shektstartedvisiblyandfrowned.“What,youhaveheardoftheinstrument?
Youarethenaphysicistaswellasanadministrator?”“All knowledge ismyprovince.But seriously, Shekt, Iwould really like to
know.”Thephysicistpeeredcloselyattheotherandseemeddoubtful.Heroseandhis
gnarled hand lifted to his lip,which it pinched thoughtfully. “I scarcely knowwheretobegin.”“Well,Starsabove,ifyouareconsideringatwhichpointinthemathematical
theoryyouare tobegin, I’llsimplifyyourproblem.Abandonthemall. Iknownothingofyourfunctionsandtensorsandwhatnot.”Shekt’s eyes twinkled. “Well, then, to stick to descriptivematter only, it is
simplyadeviceintendedtoincreasethelearningcapacityofahumanbeing.”“Ofahumanbeing?Really!Anddoesitwork?”“Iwishweknew.Muchmoreworkisnecessary.I’llgiveyoutheessentials,
Procurator,andyoucanjudgeforyourself.Thenervoussysteminman—andinanimals—iscomposedofneuroproteinmaterial.Suchmaterialconsistsofhugemoleculesinveryprecariouselectricalbalance.Theslighteststimuluswillupsetone,whichwillrightitselfbyupsettingthenext,whichwillrepeattheprocess,until the brain is reached. The brain itself is an immense grouping of similarmoleculeswhich are connected among themselves in all possibleways. Sincetherearesomethingliketentothetwentiethpower—thatis,aonewithtwentyzeros after it—such neuroproteins in the brain, the number of possiblecombinationsareof theorderof factorial ten to the twentiethpower.This isanumbersolargethatifall theelectronsandprotonsintheuniverseweremadeuniverses themselves, and all the electrons and protons in all of these newuniverses again made universes, then all the electrons and protons in all theuniverses so createdwould still benothing in comparison. . . .Doyou followme?”“Notaword,thanktheStars.IfIevenattemptedto,Ishouldbarklikeadog
forsheerpainoftheintellect.”“Hmp. Well, in any case, what we call nerve impulses are merely the
progressiveelectronicunbalancethatproceedsalongthenervestothebrainandthenfromthebrainbackalongthenerves.Doyougetthat?”“Yes.”“Well,blessingsonyouforagenius,then.Aslongasthisimpulsecontinues
along a nerve cell, it proceeds at a rapid rate, since the neuroproteins arepractically in contact.However, nerve cells are limited in extent, andbetweeneach nerve cell and the next is a very thin partition of non-nervous tissue. Inotherwords,twoadjoiningnervecellsdonotactuallyconnectwitheachother.”“Ah,”saidEnnius,“andthenervousimpulsemustjumpthebarrier.”“Exactly!Thepartitiondropsthestrengthoftheimpulseandslowsthespeed
of its transmissionaccording to thesquareof thewidth thereof.Thisholds forthebrainaswell.Butimagine,now,ifsomemeanscouldbefoundtolowerthedialectricconstantofthispartitionbetweenthecells.”“Thatwhatconstant?”“The insulating strength of the partition. That’s all I mean. If that were
decreased,theimpulsewouldjumpthegapmoreeasily.Youwouldthinkfaster
andlearnfaster.”“Well,then,Icomebacktomyoriginalquestion.Doesitwork?”“Ihavetriedtheinstrumentonanimals.”“Andwithwhatresult?”“Why, that most die very quickly of denaturation of brain protein—
coagulation,inotherwords,likehard-boilinganegg.”Ennius winced. “There is something ineffably cruel about the cold-
bloodednessofscience.Whataboutthosethatdidn’tdie?”“Notconclusive,sincethey’renothumanbeings.Theburdenoftheevidence
seemstobefavorable,forthem....ButIneedhumans.Yousee,itisamatterofthenaturalelectronicpropertiesoftheindividualbrain.Eachbraingivesrisetomicrocurrents of a certain type. None are exactly duplicates. They’re likefingerprints,ortheblood-vesselpatternsoftheretina.Ifanything,they’reevenmoreindividual.Thetreatment,Ibelieve,must takethat intoaccount,and, ifIamright,therewillbenomoredenaturation....ButIhavenohumanbeingsonwhomtoexperiment.Iaskforvolunteers,but—”Hespreadhishands.“Icertainlydon’tblamethem,oldman,”saidEnnius.“Butseriously,should
theinstrumentbeperfected,whatdoyouintenddoingwithit?”Thephysicistshrugged.“That’snotformetosay.ItwouldbeuptotheGrand
Council,ofcourse.”“YouwouldnotconsidermakingtheinventionavailabletotheEmpire?”“I? I have no objections at all.But only theGrandCouncil has jurisdiction
over—”“Oh,” said Ennius with impatience, “the devil with your Grand Council. I
havehaddealingswiththembefore.Wouldyoubewillingtotalktothematthepropertime?”“Why,whatinfluencecouldIpossiblehave?”“YoumighttellthemthatifEarthcouldproduceaSynapsifierthatwouldbe
applicable to human beings in complete safety, and if the device were madeavailable to the Galaxy, then some of the restrictions on emigration to otherplanetsmightbebrokendown.”“What,” said Shekt sarcastically, “and risk epidemics and our differentness
andournon-humanity?”“You might,” said Ennius quietly, “even be removed en masse to another
planet.Considerit.”Thedooropenedat thispointandayoungladybrushedherwayinpast the
book-filmcabinet.Shedestroyed themustyatmosphereof thecloisteredstudywith an automatic breath of spring. At the sight of a stranger she reddenedslightlyandturned.
“Come in, Pola,” called Shekt hastily. “My Lord,” he said to Ennius, “Ibelieveyouhavenevermetmydaughter.Pola,thisisLordEnnius,ProcuratorofEarth.”TheProcuratorwas on his feetwith an easy gallantry that negated her first
wildattemptatacurtsy.“MydearMissShekt,”hesaid,“youareanornamentIdidnotbelieveEarth
capableof producing.Youwould, indeed, be anornamenton anyworld I canthinkof.”HetookPola’shand,whichwasquicklyandsomewhatbashfullyextendedto
meet his gesture. For a moment Ennius made as if to kiss it, in the courtlyfashionof thepast generation, but the intention, if such itwas, never came tofruition.Halflifted,thehandwasreleased—atracetooquickly,perhaps.Pola,withtheslightestoffrowns,said,“I’moverwhelmedatyourkindness,
myLord,toasimplegirlofEarth.Youarebraveandgallanttodareinfectionasyoudo.”Shekt cleared his throat and interrupted. “My daughter, Procurator, is
completingherstudiesattheUniversityofChicaandisobtainingsomeneededfieldcreditsbyspending twodaysaweek inmy laboratoryasa technician.Acompetentgirl,andthoughIsayitwiththeprideofafather,shemaysomedaysitinmyplace.”“Father,”saidPolagently,“Ihavesomeimportantinformationforyou.”She
hesitated.“ShallIleave?”saidEnniusquietly.“No,no,”saidShekt.“Whatisit,Pola?”Thegirlsaid,“Wehaveavolunteer,Father.”Shektstared,almoststupidly.“FortheSynapsifier?”“Sohesays.”“Well,”saidEnnius,“Ibringyougoodfortune,Isee.”“Soitwouldseem.”Shektturnedtohisdaughter.“Tellhimtowait.Takehim
toRoomC,andI’llbewithhimsoon.”HeturnedtoEnniusafterPolaleft.“Willyouexcuseme,Procurator?”“Certainly.Howlongdoestheoperationtake?”“It’samatterofhours,I’mafraid.Doyouwishtowatch?”“I can imagine nothingmore gruesome,my dear Shekt. I’ll be in the State
Housetilltomorrow.Willyoutellmetheresult?”Shektseemedrelieved.“Yes,certainly.”“Good....AndthinkoverwhatIsaidaboutyourSynapsifier.Yournewroyal
roadtoknowledge.”Enniusleft,lessateasethanwhenhehadarrived;hisknowledgenogreater,
hisfearsmuchincreased.
5
TheInvoluntaryVolunteer
Oncealone,Dr.Shekt,quietlyandcautiously, touchedthesummoner,andayoungtechnicianenteredhurriedly,whiterobesparkling,longbrownhaircarefullyboundback.Dr.Shektsaid,“HasPolatoldyou—”“Yes, Dr. Shekt. I’ve observed him through the visiplate, and he must
undoubtedly be a legitimate volunteer.He’s certainly not a subject sent in theusualmanner.”“OughtIrefertotheCouncil,doyousuppose?”“Idon’tknowwhattoadvise.TheCouncilwouldn’tapproveofanyordinary
communication.Anybeamcanbetapped,youknow.”Then,eagerly,“SupposeIget rid of him. I can tell himwe needmen under thirty.The subject is easilythirty-five.”“No,no.I’dbetterseehim.”Shekt’smindwasacoldwhirl.Sofarthingshad
been most judiciously handled. Just enough information to lend a spuriousfrankness, but nomore.And now an actual volunteer—and immediately afterEnnius’s visit. Was there a connection? Shekt himself had but the vaguestknowledge of the giantmisty forces thatwere nowbeginning towrestle backand forth across the blasted face of Earth. But, in a way, he knew enough.Enoughtofeelhimselfatthemercyofthem,andcertainlymorethananyoftheAncientssuspectedheknew.Yetwhatcouldhedo,sincehislifewasdoublyindanger?
Ten minutes later Dr. Shekt was peering helplessly at the gnarled farmerstanding before him, cap in hand, head half averted, as though attempting toavoidatoo-closescrutiny.Hisage,thoughtShekt,wascertainlyunderforty,butthehardlifeofthesoilwasnoflattererofmen.Theman’scheekswerereddenedbeneaththeleatherybrown,andthereweredistincttracesofperspirationatthehairline and the temples, though the room was cool. The man’s hands werefumblingateachother.“Now,mydearsir,”saidShektkindly,“Iunderstandyourefusetogiveyour
name.”Arbin’swasablindstubbornness.“Iwastoldnoquestionswouldbeaskedif
youhadavolunteer.”“Hmm.Well, is there anythingat all youwould like to say?Ordoyou just
wanttobetreatedimmediately?”“Me? Here, now?” in sudden panic. “It’s not myself that’s the volunteer. I
didn’tsayanythingtogivethatimpression.”“No?Youmeansomeoneelseisthevolunteer?”“Certainly.WhatwouldIwant—”“Iunderstand.Isthesubject,thisotherman,withyou?”“Inaway,”saidArbincautiously.“Allright.Now,look,justtelluswhateveryouwish.Everythingyousaywill
be held in strict confidence, and we’ll help you in whatever way we can.Agreed?”The farmer ducked his head, as a sort of rudimentary gesture of respect.
“Thankyou. It’s like this, sir.Wehaveamanabout the farm,adistant—uh—relative.Hehelps,youunderstand—”Arbinswallowedwithdifficulty,andShektnoddedgravely.Arbin continued. “He’s a verywillingworker and a verygood worker—we
hadason,yousee,buthedied—andmygoodwomanandmyself,yousee,needthehelp—she’snotwell—wecouldnotgetalongwithouthim,scarcely.”Hefeltthatsomehowthestorywasacompletemess.But thegauntscientistnoddedathim.“Andthisrelativeofyours is theone
youwishtreated?”“Why,yes, I thought Ihadsaid that—butyou’llpardonme if this takesme
some time. You see, the poor fellow is not—exactly—right in his head.” Hehurriedon,furiously.“Heisnotsick,youunderstand.Heisnotwrongsothathehastobeputaway.He’sjustslow.Hedoesn’ttalk,yousee.”“Hecan’ttalk?”Shektseemedstartled.“Oh—hecan.It’sjustthathedoesn’tliketo.Hedoesn’ttalkwell.”Thephysicistlookeddubious.“AndyouwanttheSynapsifiertoimprovehis
mentality,eh?”Slowly,Arbinnodded.“Ifheknewabitmore,sir,why,hecoulddosomeof
theworkmywifecan’t,yousee.”“Hemightdie.Doyouunderstandthat?”Arbinlookedathimhelplessly,andhisfingerswrithedfuriously.Shektsaid,“I’dneedhisconsent.”Thefarmershookhisheadslowly,stubbornly.“Hewon’tunderstand.”Then,
urgently,almostbeneathhisbreath,“Why,look,sir,I’msureyou’llunderstandme.Youdon’tlooklikeamanwhodoesn’tknowwhatahardlifeis.Thismanisgetting old. It’s not a question of the Sixty, you see, but what if, in the nextCensus, they think he’s a half-wit and—and take him away?Wedon’t like tolosehim,andthat’swhywebringhimhere.“ThereasonI’mtryingtobesecret-likeisthatmaybe—maybe”—andArbin’s
eyesswiveledinvoluntarilyatthewalls,asiftopenetratethembysheerwillanddetectthelistenersthatmightbebehind—“well,maybetheAncientswon’tlikewhatI’mdoing.MaybetryingtosaveanafflictedmancanbejudgedasagainsttheCustoms,butlifeishard,sir. . . .Anditwouldbeusefultoyou.Youhaveaskedforvolunteers.”“Iknow.Whereisyourrelative?”Arbin took the chance. “Out in my biwheel, if no one’s found him. He
wouldn’tbeabletotakecareofhimselfifanyonehas—”“Well,we’llhopehe’ssafe.YouandIwillgooutrightnowandbringthecar
aroundtoourbasementgarage.I’llseetoit thatnooneknowsofhispresencebutourselvesandmyhelpers.AndIassureyouthatyouwon’tbeintroublewiththeBrotherhood.”His arm dropped in friendly fashion to Arbin’s shoulder, who grinned
spasmodically.Tothefarmeritwaslikearopelooseningfromabouthisneck.Shekt looked down at the plump, balding figure upon the couch. Thepatient was unconscious, breathing deeply and regularly. He had spokenunintelligibly,hadunderstoodnothing.Yettherehadbeennoneofthephysicalstigmataoffeeblemindedness.Reflexeshadbeeninorder,foranoldman.Old!Hmm.HelookedacrossatArbin,whowatchedeverythingwithaglancelikeavise.“Wouldyoulikeustotakeaboneanalysis?”“No,” criedArbin. Then,more softly, “I don’twant anything thatmight be
identification.”“Itmighthelpus—besafer,youknow—ifweknewhisage,”saidShekt.
“He’sfifty,”saidArbinshortly.Thephysicistshrugged.Itdidn’tmatter.Againhelookedatthesleeper.When
brought in, the subject had been, or certainly seemed, dejected, withdrawn,uncaring.EventheHypno-pillshadapparentlyarousednosuspicion.Theyhadbeenofferedhim;therehadbeenaquick,spasmodicsmileinresponse,andhehadswallowedthem.Thetechnicianwasalreadyrollinginthelastoftheratherclumsyunitswhich
togethermade up theSynapsifier.At the touch of a push button the polarizedglassinthewindowsoftheoperatingroomunderwentmolecularrearrangementand became opaque. The only light was the white one that blazed its coldbrillianceupon thepatient suspended, as hewas, in themultihundred-kilowattdiamagnetic field some two inches above the operating table towhich hewastransferred.Arbin still sat in the dark there, understanding nothing, but determined in
deadlyfashiontoprevent,somehow,byhispresence,theharmfultricksheknewhehadnottheknowledgetoprevent.Thephysicistspaidnoattention tohim.Theelectrodeswereadjusted to the
patient’s skull. Itwasa long job.First therewas thecareful studyof the skullformationbytheUllstertechniquethatrevealedthewinding,tight-knitfissures.Grimly, Shekt smiled to himself. Skull fissures weren’t an unalterablequantitativemeasureofage,but theyweregoodenough in thiscase.Themanwasolderthantheclaimedfifty.Andthen,afterawhile,hedidnotsmile.Hefrowned.Therewassomething
wrongwiththefissures.Theyseemedodd—notquite...Foramomenthewasreadytoswearthattheskullformationwasaprimitive
one,athrowback,butthen...Well,themanwassubnormalinmentality.Whynot?Andsuddenlyheexclaimed inshock,“Why, Ihadn’tnoticed!Thismanhas
haironhisface!”HeturnedtoArbin.“Hashealwaysbeenbearded?”“Bearded?”“Haironhisface!Comehere!Don’tyouseeit?”“Yes,sir.”Arbinthoughtrapidly.Hehadnoticeditthatmorningandthenhad
forgotten.“Hewasbornlikethat,”hesaid,andthenweakeneditbyadding,“Ithink.”“Well,let’sremoveit.Youdon’twanthimgoingaroundlikeabrutebeast,do
you?”“No,sir.”The hair came off smoothly at the application of a depilatory salve by the
carefullyglovedtechnician.
Thetechniciansaid,“Hehashaironhischesttoo,Dr.Shekt.”“GreatGalaxy,”saidShekt,“letmesee!Why,themanisarug!Well,letitbe.
Itwon’tshowwithashirt,andIwanttogetonwiththeelectrodes.Let’shavewires here and here, and here.” Tiny pricks and the insertion of the platinumhair-lets.“Hereandhere.”A dozen connections, probing through skin to the fissures, through the
tightnessofwhichcouldbefeltthedelicateshadowechoesofthemicrocurrentsthatsurgedfromcelltocellinthebrain.Carefullytheywatchedthedelicateammetersstirandleap,astheconnections
were made and broken. The tiny needlepoint recorders traced their delicatespiderwebsacrossthegraphedpaperinirregularpeaksandtroughs.Thenthegraphswereremovedandplacedontheilluminatedopalglass.They
bentlowoverit,whispering.Arbincaughtdisjointedflashes:“...remarkablyregular...lookattheheight
ofthequinternarypeak...thinkitoughttobeanalyzed...clearenoughtotheeye...”Andthen,forwhatseemedalongtime,therewasatediousadjustmentofthe
Synapsifier.Knobswereturned,eyesonvernieradjustments,thenclampedandtheir readings recorded. Over and over again the various electrometers werecheckedandnewadjustmentsweremadenecessary.ThenShektsmiledatArbinandsaid,“Itwillallbeoververysoon.”Thelargemachinerywasadvanceduponthesleeperlikeaslow-movingand
hungrymonster.Four longwiresweredangled to the extremitiesofhis limbs,and a dull black pad of something that looked like hard rubberwas carefullyadjustedat thebackofhisneckandheld firmly inplacebyclamps that fittedover the shoulders. Finally, like two giantmandibles, the opposing electrodeswere parted and brought downward over the pale, pudgy head, so that eachpointedatatemple.Shekt kept his eyes firmly on the chronometer; in his other hand was the
switch. His thumb moved; nothing visible happened—not even to the fear-sharpenedsenseofthewatchingArbin.Afterwhatmighthavebeenhours,butwasactuallylessthanthreeminutes,Shekt’sthumbmovedagain.His assistant bent over the still-sleepingSchwartz hurriedly, then looked up
triumphantly.“He’salive.”Thereremainedyetseveralhours,duringwhicha libraryofrecordingswere
taken, to an undertone of almost wild excitement. It was well past midnightwhenthehypodermicwaspressedhomeandthesleeper’seyesfluttered.Shektsteppedback,bloodlessbuthappy.Hedabbedathisforeheadwiththe
backofahand.“It’sallright.”
HeturnedtoArbinfirmly.“Hemuststaywithusafewdays,sir.”ThelookofalarmgrewmadlyinArbin’seyes.“But—but—”“No,no,youmustrelyonme,”urgently.“Hewillbesafe;Iwillstakemylife
on it. I am staking my life on it. Leave him to us; no one will see him butourselves. Ifyou takehimwithyounow,hemaynot survive.Whatgoodwillthatdoyou?...Andifhedoesdie,youmayhavetoexplainthecorpsetotheAncients.”Itwasthelastthatdidthetrick.Arbinswallowedandsaid.“Butlook,howam
Itoknowwhentocomeandtakehim?Iwon’tgiveyoumyname!”Butitwassubmission.Shektsaid,“I’mnotaskingyouforyourname.Comea
weekfromtodayattenintheevening.I’llbewaitingforyouatthedoorofthegarage,theonewetookinyourbiwheelat.Youmustbelieveme,man;youhavenothingtofear.”ItwaseveningwhenArbinarrowedoutofChica.Twenty-fourhourshadpassed since the stranger had pounded at his door, and in that time he haddoubledhiscrimesagainsttheCustoms.Wouldheeverbesafeagain?Hecouldnothelpbutglanceoverhisshoulderashisbiwheelspedalongthe
emptyroad.Wouldtherebesomeonetofollow?Someonetotracehimhome?Orwashisfacealreadyrecorded?Werematchingsbeingleisurelymadesomewherein thedistant filesof theBrotherhoodatWashenn,where all livingEarthmen,togetherwiththeirvitalstatistics,werelisted,forpurposesoftheSixty?TheSixty,whichmustcometoallEarthmeneventually.Hehadyetaquarter
ofacenturybeforeitcametohim,yetheliveddailywithitonGrew’saccount,andnowonthestranger’saccount.WhatifheneverreturnedtoChica?No!HeandLoacouldnot longcontinueproducingfor three,andonce they
failed, their firstcrime, thatofconcealingGrew,wouldbediscovered.AndsocrimesagainsttheCustoms,oncebegun,mustbecompounded.Arbinknewthathewouldbeback,despiteanyrisk.
It was past midnight before Shekt thought of retiring, and then onlybecausethetroubledPolainsisted.Eventhenhedidnotsleep.Hispillowwasasubtle smothering device, his sheets a pair ofmaddening snarls.He arose andtookhisseatbythewindow.Thecitywasdarknow,butthereonthehorizon,onthesideoppositethelake,wasthefainttraceofthatblueglowofdeaththatheldswayoverallbutafewpatchesofEarth.Theactivitiesof thehecticday justpastdancedmadlybeforehismind.His
first action after having persuaded the frightened farmer to leave had been totelevisetheStateHouse.Enniusmusthavebeenwaitingforhim,forhehimselfhad answered. He was still encased in the heaviness of the lead-impregnatedclothing.“Ah,Shekt,goodevening.Yourexperimentisover?”“Andnearlymyvolunteeraswell,poorman.”Ennius looked ill. “I thoughtwellwhen I thought it better not to stay.You
scientistsarescarcelyremovedfrommurderers,itseemstome.”“Heisnotyetdead,Procurator,anditmaybethatwewillsavehim,but—”
Andheshruggedhisshoulders.“I’dsticktoratsexclusivelyhenceforward,Shekt. . . .Butyoudon’tlookat
allyourusualself,friend.Surelyyou,atleast,mustbehardenedtothis,evenifIamnot.”“Iamgettingold,myLord,”saidShektsimply.“AdangerouspastimeonEarth,”wasthedryreply.“Getyoutobed,Shekt.”AndsoShektsatthere,lookingoutatthedarkcityofadyingworld.FortwoyearsnowtheSynapsifierhadbeenundertest,andfortwoyearshe
hadbeentheslaveandsportoftheSocietyofAncients,ortheBrotherhood,astheycalledthemselves.He had seven or eight papers thatmight have been published in theSirian
Journal of Neurophysiology, that might have given that Galaxy-wide fame tohimthathesowanted.Thesepapersmolderedinhisdesk.Insteadtherewasthatobscure and deliberately misleading paper inPhysical Reviews. That was thewayoftheBrotherhood.Betterahalf-truththanalie.AndstillEnniuswasinquiring.Why?Diditfitinwithotherthingshehadlearned?WastheEmpiresuspectingwhat
hehimselfsuspected?Three times in two hundred years Earth had risen. Three times, under the
banner of a claimed ancient greatness,Earth had rebelled against the Imperialgarrisons. Three times they had failed—of course—and had not the Empirebeen, essentially, enlightened, and the Galactic Councils, by and large,statesmanlike,Earthwouldhavebeenbloodilyerasedfromtherollofinhabitedplanets.Butnow thingsmightbedifferent. . . .Orcould theybedifferent?Howfar
couldhetrustthewordsofadyingmadman,threequartersincoherent?Whatwastheuse?Inanycase,hedareddonothing.Hecouldonlywait.He
wasgettingold,and,asEnniushadsaid,thatwasadangerouspastimeonEarth.TheSixtywasalmostuponhim,andtherewerefewexceptionstoitsinevitablegrasp.
Andevenonthismiserable,burningmudballofEarth,hewantedtolive.He went to bed once more at that point, and just before falling asleep he
wonderedfeeblyifhiscall toEnniusmighthavebeentappedbytheAncients.HedidnotknowatthetimethattheAncientshadothersourcesofinformation.ItwasmorningbeforeShekt’syoungtechnicianhadcompletelymadeuphismind.He admired Shekt, but he knew well that the secret treatment of a non-
authorizedvolunteerwasagainst thedirectorderof theBrotherhood.And thatorderhadbeengiventhestatusofaCustom,whichmadedisobedienceacapitaloffense.He reasoned itout.After all,whowas thismanwhohadbeen treated?The
campaignforvolunteershadbeencarefullyworkedout.Itwasdesignedtogiveenough information about the Synapsifier to remove suspicion on the part ofpossible Imperial spies without giving any real encouragement to volunteers.TheSocietyofAncientssenttheirownmenfortreatment,andthatwasenough.Whohadsentthisman,then?TheSocietyofAncientsinsecret?Inorderto
testShekt’sreliability?OrwasShektatraitor?Hehadbeenclosetedwithsomeoneearlierintheday
—someone in bulky clothes, such as Outsiders wore in fear of radioactivepoisoning.IneithercaseShektmightgodownindoom,andwhyshouldhehimselfbe
dragged down aswell?Hewas a youngmanwith nearly four decades of lifebeforehim.WhyshouldheanticipatetheSixty?Besides,itwouldmeanpromotionforhim....AndShektwassoold,thenext
Censuswouldprobablygethimanyway,soitwouldinvolveverylittleharmforhim.Practicallynoneatall.The technicianhaddecided.Hishandreachedfor thecommunicator,andhe
punched the combination that would lead directly to the private room of theHighMinister of all Earth, who, under the Emperor and Procurator, held thepoweroflifeanddeathovereverymanonEarth.ItwaseveningagainbeforethemistyimpressionswithinSchwartz’sskullsharpened through thepinkpain.He remembered the trip to the low,huddlingstructuresbythelakeside,thelongcrouchingwaitintherearofthecar.Andthen—what?What?Hismindyankedawayatthesluggishthoughts....
Yes,theyhadcomeforhim.Therewasaroom,withinstrumentsanddials,andtwo pills. . . . Thatwas it. They had given him pills, and he had taken them
cheerfully.Whathadhetolose?Poisoningwouldhavebeenafavor.Andthen—nothing.Wait!Therehadbeenflashesofconsciousness. . .Peoplebendingoverhim
...Suddenlyherememberedthecoldmotionofastethoscopeoverhischest....Agirlhadbeenfeedinghim.Itflasheduponhimthathehadbeenoperateduponand,inpanic,heflungthe
bedsheetsfromhimandsatup.A girl was upon him, hands on his shoulders, forcing him back onto the
pillows.Shespokesoothingly,buthedidnotunderstandher.Hetensedhimselfagainsttheslimarms,butuselessly.Hehadnostrength.Heheldhishandsbeforehis face.Theyseemednormal.Hemovedhis legs
andheardthembrushagainstthesheets.Theycouldn’thavebeenamputated.Heturnedtothegirlandsaid,withoutmuchhope,“Canyouunderstandme?
DoyouknowwhereIam?”Hescarcelyrecognizedhisownvoice.The girl smiled and suddenly poured out a rapid patter of liquid sound.
Schwartzgroaned.Thenanoldermanentered, theonewhohadgivenhimthepills.Themanandthegirlspoketogether,thegirlturningtohimafterawhile,pointingtohislipsandmakinglittlegesturesofinvitationtohim.“What?”hesaid.She nodded eagerly, her pretty face glowing with pleasure, until, despite
himself,Schwartzfeltgladtolookatit.“Youwantmetotalk?”heasked.Themansatdownuponhisbedandmotionedhimtoopenhismouth.Hesaid,
“Ah-h-h,” and Schwartz repeated “Ah-h-h”while theman’s fingersmassagedSchwartz’sAdam’sapple.“What’s the matter?” said Schwartz peevishly, when the pressure was
removed.“AreyousurprisedIcantalk?WhatdoyouthinkIam?”Thedayspassed,andSchwartzlearnedafewthings.ThemanwasDr.Shekt—the firsthumanbeingheknewbynamesincehehadsteppedover therag doll. The girl was his daughter, Pola. Schwartz found that he no longerneededtoshave.Thehaironhisfacenevergrew.Itfrightenedhim.Diditevergrow?His strength came back quickly. They were letting him put on clothes and
walkaboutnow,andwerefeedinghimsomethingmorethanmush.Washis troubleamnesia, then?Weretheytreatinghimfor that?Wasall this
worldnormalandnatural,whiletheworldhethoughtherememberedwasonlythefantasyofanamnesicbrain?
Andtheyneverlethimstepoutoftheroom,notevenintothecorridor.Washeaprisoner,then?Hadhecommittedacrime?Therenevercanbeamansolostasonewhoislostinthevastandintricate
corridors of his own lonelymind,where nonemay reach and nonemay save.Thereneverwasamansohelplessasonewhocannotremember.Polaamusedherselfbyteachinghimwords.Hewasnotatallamazedatthe
easewithwhich he picked themup and remembered.He remembered that hehadhada trickmemory in thepast; thatmemory,at least,seemedaccurate. Intwodayshecouldunderstandsimplesentences.Inthreehecouldmakehimselfunderstood.Onthethirdday,however,hedidbecomeamazed.Shekttaughthimnumbers
andsethimproblems.Schwartzwouldgiveanswers,andShektwouldlookatatiming device and record with rapid strokes of his stylus. But then Shektexplainedtheterm“logarithm”tohimandaskedforthelogarithmoftwo.Schwartzpickedhiswordscarefully.Hisvocabularywasstillminuteandhe
reinforceditwithgestures.“I—not—say.Answer—not—number.”Shektnoddedhisheadexcitedlyandsaid,“Notnumber.Notthis,notthat;part
this,partthat.”Schwartz understoodquitewell thatShekt had confirmedhis statement that
the answer was not an even number but a fraction and therefore said, “Pointthreezeroonezerothree—and—more—numbers.”“Enough!”Thencametheamazement.Howhadheknowntheanswertothat?Schwartz
was certain that he had never heard of logarithms before, yet in hismind theanswerhadcomeassoonasthequestionwasput.Hehadnoideaoftheprocessbywhichithadbeencalculated.Itwasasifhismindwereanindependententity,usinghimonlyasitsmouthpiece.Orhadheoncebeenamathematician,inthedaysbeforehisamnesia?Hefounditexceedinglydifficulttowaitthedaysout.Increasinglyhefelthe
mustventureoutintotheworldandforceananswerfromitsomehow.Hecouldneverlearnintheprisonofthisroom,where(thethoughtsuddenlycametohim)hewasbutamedicalspecimen.The chance came on the sixth day. They were beginning to trust him too
much,andonetimewhenShektlefthedidnotlockthedoor.Whereusuallythedoor so neatly closed itself that the very crack of its joining thewall becameinvisible,thistimeaquarterinchofspaceshowed.He waited to make sure Shekt was not returning on the instant, and then
slowlyputhishandoverthelittlegleaminglightashehadseenthemoftendo.Smoothlyandsilentlythedoorslidopen....Thecorridorwasempty.
AndsoSchwartz“escaped.”HowwashetoknowthatforthesixdaysofhisresidencetheretheSocietyof
Ancientshaditsagentswatchingthehospital,hisroom,himself?
6
ApprehensionintheNight
The Procurator’s palace was scarcely less a fairyland at night. Theevening flowers (none native to Earth) opened their fat white blossoms infestoons that extended their delicate fragrance to the verywalls of the palace.Under the polarized light of the moon, the artificial silicate strands wovencleverlyintothestainlessaluminumalloyofthepalacestructuresparkedafaintvioletagainstthemetallicsheenoftheirsurroundings.Enniuslookedatthestars.Theyweretherealbeautytohim,sincetheywere
theEmpire.Earth’sskywasofanintermediatetype.Ithadnottheunbearablegloryofthe
skies of the Central Worlds, where star elbowed star in such blindingcompetition that theblackofnightwasnearly lost inacoruscantexplosionoflight.NordiditpossessthelonelygrandeuroftheskiesofthePeriphery,wherethe unrelieved blackness was broken at great intervals by the dimness of anorphaned star—with themilky lens shape of the Galaxy spreading across thesky,theindividualstarsthereoflostindiamonddust.OnEarthtwothousandstarswerevisibleatonetime.EnniuscouldseeSirius,
roundwhichcircledoneofthetenmostpopulousplanetsoftheEmpire.TherewasArcturus,capitalofthesectorofhisbirth.ThesunofTrantor,theEmpire’scapitalworld,waslostsomewhereintheMilkyWay.Evenunderatelescopeitwasjustpartofageneralblaze.Hefeltasofthandonhisshoulder,andhisownwentuptomeetit.
“Flora?”hewhispered.“Ithadbetterbe,”camehiswife’shalf-amusedvoice.“Doyouknowthatyou
haven’t slept since you returned from Chica? Do you know further that it isalmostdawn?...ShallIhavebreakfastsentouthere?”“Whynot?”Hesmiledfondlyupatherandfeltinthedarknessforthebrown
ringletthathoverednexthercheek.Hetuggedatit.“AndmustyouwaitupwithmeandshadowthemostbeautifuleyesintheGalaxy?”Shefreedherhairandrepliedgently,“Youaretryingtoshadowthemyourself
withyoursugarsyrup,butI’veseenyouthiswaybeforeandamnotinthetiniesthoodwinked.Whatworriesyoutonight,dear?”“Why, thatwhichalwaysworriesme.ThatIhaveburiedyouhereuselessly,
whenthere’snotaviceregalsocietyintheGalaxyyoucouldnotgrace.”“Besidesthat!Come,Ennius,Iwillnotbeplayedwith.”Ennius shook his head in the shadows and said, “I don’t know. I think an
accumulationoflittlepuzzlingthingshasfinallysickenedme.There’sthematterofShektandhisSynapsifier.And there’s thisarchaeologist,Arvardan,andhistheories.Andotherthings,otherthings.Oh,what’stheuse,Flora—I’mdoingnogoodhereatall.”“Surely this time of the morning isn’t quite the moment for putting your
moraletothetest.”But Ennius was speaking through clenched teeth. “These Earthmen! Why
shouldsofewbesuchaburdentotheEmpire?Doyouremember,Flora,whenIwasfirstappointedtotheProcuracy,thewarningsIreceivedfromoldFaroul,thelast Procurator, as to the difficulties of the position? . . . He was right. Ifanything,hedidnotgofarenoughinhiswarnings.YetIlaughedathimatthetime and privately thought him the victim of his own senile incapacity. Iwasyoung, active, daring. Iwoulddobetter . . .”Hepaused, lost in himself, thencontinued,apparentlyatadisconnectedpoint.“YetsomanyindependentpiecesofevidenceseemtoshowthattheseEarthmenareonceagainbeingmisledintodreamsofrebellion.”Helookedupathiswife.“DoyouknowthatitisthedoctrineoftheSociety
ofAncientsthatEarthwasatonetimethesolehomeofHumanity,thatitistheappointedcenteroftherace,thetruerepresentationofMan?”“Why,soArvardantoldustwoeveningsago,didn’the?”Itwasalwaysbestat
thesetimestolethimtalkhimselfout.“Yes, so he did,” said Ennius gloomily, “but even so, he spoke only of the
past. The Society ofAncients speaks of the future aswell. Earth, oncemore,they say, will be the center of the race. They even claim that this mythicalSecond Kingdom of Earth is at hand; they warn that the Empire will be
destroyed in a general catastrophewhichwill leaveEarth triumphant in all itspristine glory”—and his voice shook—“as a backward, barbarous, soil-sickworld. Three times before, this same nonsense has raised rebellion, and thedestructionbroughtdownuponEarthhasneverservedintheleasttoshaketheirstupidfaith.”“Theyarebutpoorcreatures,”saidFlora,“thesemenofEarth.Whatshould
theyhave,ifnottheirFaith?Theyarecertainlyrobbedofeverythingelse—ofadecentworld,ofadecentlife.Theyareevenrobbedofthedignityofacceptanceonabasisofequalityby therestof theGalaxy.So theyretire to theirdreams.Canyoublamethem?”“Yes,Icanblamethem,”criedEnniuswithenergy.“Letthemturnfromtheir
dreams and fight for assimilation. They don’t deny they are different. Theysimplywish to replace‘worse’by‘better,’andyoucan’texpect therestof theGalaxyto let themdothat.Let themabandontheircliquishness, theiroutdatedandoffensive‘Customs.’Letthembemen,andtheywillbeconsideredmen.LetthembeEarthmenandtheywillbeconsideredonlyassuch.“But never mind that. For instance, what’s going on with the Synapsifier?
Now there’s a little thing that is keeping me from sleep.” Ennius frownedthoughtfullyatthedullnesswhichwasovercomingthepolisheddarknessoftheeasternsky.“TheSynapsifier?...Why,isn’tthattheinstrumentDr.Arvardanspokeofat
dinner?DidyougotoChicatoseeaboutthat?”Enniusnodded.“Andwhatdidyoufindoutthere?”“Whynothingatall,”saidEnnius.“IknowShekt.Iknowhimwell.Icantell
whenhe’satease;Icantellwhenheisn’t.Itellyou,Flora,thatmanwasdyingofapprehensionall the timehewasspeaking tome.AndwhenI lefthebrokeintoasweatofthankfulness.Itisanunhappymystery,Flora.”“Butwillthemachinework?”“AmIaneurophysicist?Shektsaysitwillnot.Hecalledmeuptotellmethat
avolunteerwasnearlykilledbyit.ButIdon’tbelievethat.Hewasexcited!Hewas more than that. He was triumphant! His volunteer had lived and theexperimenthadbeensuccessful,orI’veneverseenahappymaninmylife....Now why do you suppose he lied to me, then? Do you suppose that theSynapsifier is in operation?Do you suppose that it can be creating a race ofgeniuses?”“Butthenwhykeepitsecret?”“Ah!Why? It isn’t obvious to you?Why hasEarth failed in its rebellions?
There are fairly tremendous odds against it, aren’t there? Increase the average
intelligenceoftheEarthman.Doubleit.Tripleit.Andwheremayyouroddsbethen?”“Oh,Ennius.”“We may be in the position of apes attacking human beings. What price
numericalodds?”“You’rereallyjumpingatshadows.Theycouldn’thideathinglikethat.You
canalwayshavetheBureauofOuterProvincessendinafewpsychologistsandkeep testing random samples of Earthmen. Surely any abnormal rise in I.Q.couldbedetectedinstantly.”“Yes.Isupposeso....Butthatmaynotbeit.I’mnotsureofanything,Flora,
exceptthatarebellionisinthecards.SomethingliketheUprisingof750,exceptthatitwillprobablybeworse.”“Arewepreparedforit?Imean,ifyou’resocertain—”“Prepared?”Ennius’slaughterwasabark.“Iam.Thegarrisonisinreadiness
andfullysupplied.Whatevercanpossiblybedonewith thematerialathand, Ihave done. But, Flora, I don’t want to have a rebellion. I don’t want myProcuracytogodowninhistoryastheProcuracyoftheRebellion.Idon’twantmynamelinkedwithdeathandslaughter.I’llbedecoratedforit,butacenturyfromnowthehistorybookswillcallmeabloodytyrant.WhatabouttheViceroyofSantanniinthesixthcentury?Couldhehavedoneotherthanhedid,thoughmillionsdied?Hewashonoredthen,butwhohasagoodwordforhimnow?Iwould rather be known as the man who prevented a rebellion and saved theworthlesslivesoftwentymillionfools.”Hesoundedquitehopelessaboutit.“Areyousosureyoucan’t,Ennius—evenyet?”Shesatdownbesidehimand
brushedherfingertipsalongthelineofhisjaw.Hecaughtthemandheldthemtightly.“HowcanI?Everythingworksagainst
me.TheBureauitselfrushesintothestruggleonthesideofthefanaticsofEarthbysendingthisArvardanhere.”“But,dear, Idon’t see that this archaeologistwilldoanything soawful. I’ll
admithesoundslikeafaddist,butwhatharmcanhedo?”“Why,isn’titplain?HewantstobeallowedtoprovethatEarthistheoriginal
home of Humanity. He wants to bring scientific authority to the aid ofsubversion.”“Thenstophim.”“Ican’t.Thereyouhaveit,frankly.There’sa theoryaboutthatviceroyscan
doanything,butthatjustisn’tso.Thatman,Arvardan,hasawritofpermissionfrom the Bureau of Outer Provinces. It is approved by the Emperor. Thatsupersedesmecompletely. Icoulddonothingwithoutappealing to theCentralCouncil,and thatwould takemonths. . . .Andwhat reasonscould Igive? If I
triedtostophimbyforce,ontheotherhand,itwouldbeanactofrebellion;andyouknowhowreadytheCentralCouncilistoremoveanyexecutivetheythinkisoversteppingtheline,eversincetheCivilWaroftheeighties.Andthenwhat?I’dbereplacedbysomeonewhowouldn’tbeawareof thesituationatall,andArvardanwouldgoaheadanyway.“Andthatstillisn’ttheworst,Flora.Doyouknowhowheintendstoprovethe
antiquityofEarth?Supposeyouguess.”Floralaughedgently.“You’remakingfunofme,Ennius.HowshouldIguess?
I’mnoarchaeologist.Isupposehe’lltrytodigupoldstatuesorbonesanddatethembytheirradioactivityorsomethinglikethat.”“Iwishitwerelikethat.WhatArvardanintendstodo,hetoldmeyesterday,is
toentertheradioactiveareasonEarth.Heintendstofindhumanartifactsthere,showthat theyexist froma timeprevious to thatatwhichEarth’ssoilbecameradioactive—sincehe insists theradioactivity isman-made—anddate it in thatfashion.”“Butthat’salmostwhatIsaid.”“Do you know what it means to enter the radioactive areas? They’re
Forbidden.It’soneof thestrongestCustomstheseEarthmenhave.NoonecanentertheForbiddenAreas,andallradioactiveareasareForbidden.”“But then that’s good. Arvardan will be stopped by the men of Earth
themselves.”“Oh,fine.He’llbestoppedbytheHighMinister!Andthenhowwillweever
convince him that all this was not a Government-sponsored project, that theEmpireisnotconnivingatdeliberatesacrilege?”“TheHighMinistercan’tbethattouchy.”“Can’the?”Enniusrearedbackandstaredathiswife.Thenighthadlightened
toaslatinessinwhichshewasjustvisible.“Youhavethemosttouchingnaïveté.Hecertainlycanbe that touchy.Doyouknowwhathappened—oh,aboutfiftyyearsago?I’lltellyou,andthenyoucanjudgeforyourself.“Earth, itsohappens,willallownooutwardsignofImperialdominationon
their world because of their insistence that Earth is the rightful ruler of theGalaxy.But it sohappened thatyoungStannell II—theboyemperorwhowassomewhat insane andwhowas removed by assassination after a reign of twoyears; you remember!—ordered that the Emperor’s insignia be raised in theirCouncil Chamber at Washenn. In itself the order was reasonable, since theinsignia is present in every planetary Council Chamber in the Galaxy as asymbol of the Imperial unity. But what happened in this case? The day theinsigniawasraised,thetownbecameamassofriots.“ThelunaticsofWashenntoredowntheinsigniaandtookuparmsagainstthe
garrison.StannellIIwassufficientlymadtodemandthathisorderbecompliedwithif itmeanttheslaughterofeveryEarthmanalive,buthewasassassinatedbefore that could be put into effect, and Edard, his successor, canceled theoriginalorder.Allwaspeaceagain.”“You mean,” said Flora incredulously, “that the Imperial insignia was not
replaced?”“Imean thatexactly.By theStars,Earth is theonlyoneof themillionsand
millionsof planets in theEmpire that hasno insignia in itsCouncilChamber.Thismiserableplanetweareonnow.And ifeven todaywewere to tryagain,theywouldfighttothelastmantopreventus.Andyouaskmeifthey’retouchy.Itellyouthey’remad.”There was silence in the slowly graying light of dawn, until Flora’s voice
soundedagain,littleandunsureofitself.“Ennius?”“Yes.”“You’renotjustconcernedabouttherebellionthatyou’reexpectingbecause
of itseffectonyour reputation. Iwouldn’tbeyourwife if Icouldn’thalf readyourthoughts,anditseemstomethatyouexpectsomethingactuallydangeroustotheEmpire....Youshouldn’thideanythingfromme,Ennius.You’reafraidtheseEarthmenwillwin.”“Flora, I can’t talk about it.” Therewas something tortured in his eyes. “It
isn’tevenahunch....Maybefouryearsonthisworldistoolongforanysaneman.ButwhyaretheseEarthmensoconfident?”“Howdoyouknowtheyare?”“Oh, theyare. Ihavemy sourcesof information too.Afterall, they’vebeen
crushed three times.Theycan’t have illusions left.Yet they face two hundredmillionworlds,eachonesinglystrongerthanthey,andtheyareconfident.CantheyreallybesofirmintheirfaithinsomeDestinyorsomesupernaturalForce—somethingthathasmeaningonlytothem?Maybe—maybe—maybe—”“Maybewhat,Ennius?”“Maybetheyhavetheirweapons.”“Weaponsthatwillallowoneworldtodefeattwohundredmillions?Youare
panicky.Noweaponcoulddothat.”“IhavealreadymentionedtheSynapsifier.”“AndIhavetoldyouhowtotakecareofthat.Doyouknowofanyothertype
ofweapontheycoulduse?”Reluctantly,“No.”“Exactly.Thereisn’tanysuchweaponpossible.NowI’lltellyouwhattodo,
dear.Whydon’tyougetintouchwiththeHighMinisterand,inearnestofyour
good faith, warn him of Arvardan’s plans? Urge, unofficially, that he not begranted permission. This will remove any suspicion—or should—that theImperialGovernmenthasanyhandinthissillyviolationoftheircustoms.AtthesametimeyouwillhavestoppedArvardanwithouthavingappearedinthemessyourself.ThenhavetheBureausendouttwogoodpsychologists—or,better,askfor four, so they’ll be sure to send at least two—and have them check on theSynapsifier possibility. . . . And anything else can be taken care of by oursoldiers,whileweallowposteritytotakecareofitself.“Nowwhydon’tyousleeprighthere?Wecanputthechairbackdown,you
can usemy fur piece as a blanket, and I’ll have a breakfast traywheeled outwhenyouawake.Thingswillseemdifferentinthesun.”And so it was that Ennius, after waking the night through, fell asleep five
minutesbeforesunrise.Thus it was eight hours later that the High Minister first learned of Bel
ArvardanandhismissionfromtheProcuratorhimself.
7
ConversationwithMadmen?
AsforArvardan,hewasconcernedonlywithmakingholiday.Hisship,theOphiuchus,wasnot tobeexpectedforat leastamonth, thereforehehadamonthtospendaslavishlyashemightwish.Soitwas thatonthesixthdayafterhisarrivalatEverest,BelArvardanleft
hishostandtookpassageontheTerrestrialAirTransportCompany’slargestjetStratospheric,travelingbetweenEverestandtheTerrestrialcapital,Washenn.If he took a commercial liner, rather than the speedy cruiser placed at his
servicebyEnnius,itwasdonedeliberately,outofthereasonablecuriosityofastrangerandanarchaeologisttowardtheordinarylifeofmeninhabitingsuchaplanetasEarth.Andforanotherreasontoo.ArvardanwasfromtheSirianSector,notoriouslythesectoraboveallothersin
theGalaxywhereanti-Terrestrianprejudicewasstrong.Yethehadalwayslikedto think he had not succumbed to that prejudice himself.As a scientist, as anarchaeologist, he couldn’t afford to.Of course he had grown into the habit ofthinking of Earthmen in certain set caricature types, and even now the word“Earthman”seemedanuglyonetohim.Buthewasn’treallyprejudiced.Atleasthedidn’tthinkso.Forinstance,ifanEarthmaneverwishedtojoinan
expeditionofhisorworkforhiminanycapacity—andhadthetrainingandtheability—hewouldbeaccepted.Iftherewereanopeningforhim,thatwas.Andiftheothermembersoftheexpeditiondidn’tmindtoomuch.Thatwastherub.
Usuallythefellowworkersobjected,andthenwhatcouldyoudo?Heponderedthematter.Nowcertainlyhewouldhavenoobjectiontoeating
with an Earthman, or even bunking with one in case of need—assuming theEarthmanwerereasonablyclean,andhealthy.Infact,hewouldinallwaystreathimashewouldtreatanyoneelse,hethought.Yettherewasnodenyingthathewouldalwaysbeconsciousof the fact thatanEarthmanwasanEarthman.Hecouldn’thelpthat.Thatwastheresultofachildhoodimmersedinanatmosphereofbigotrysocompletethatitwasalmostinvisible,soentirethatyouaccepteditsaxiomsassecondnature.Thenyouleft itandsawitforwhatitwaswhenyoulookedback.Butherewashischancetotesthimself.HewasinaplanewithonlyEarthmen
abouthim,andhefeltperfectlynatural,almost.Well,justalittleself-conscious.Arvardanlookedaboutattheundistinguishedandnormalfacesofhisfellow
passengers.Theywere supposed to be different, theseEarthmen, but could hehavetoldthesefromordinarymenifhehadmetthemcasuallyinacrowd?Hedidn’tthinkso.Thewomenweren’tbad-looking...Hisbrowsknit.Ofcourseeven tolerancemustdraw the linesomewhere. Intermarriage, for instance,wasquiteunthinkable.Theplane itselfwas, inhis eyes, a small affairof imperfect construction. It
was,ofcourse,atomic-powered,buttheapplicationoftheprinciplewasfarfromefficient.Foronething,thepowerunitwasnotwellshielded.ThenitoccurredtoArvardanthatthepresenceofstraygammaraysandahighneutrondensityintheatmosphere might well strike Earthmen as less important than it might strikeothers.Then the view caught his eyes. From the dark wine-purple of the extreme
stratosphere,Earthpresenteda fabulousappearance.Beneathhim thevast andmistedlandareasinsight(obscuredhereandtherebythepatchesofsun-brightclouds)showedadesertorange.Behindthem,slowlyrecedingfromthefleeingstratoliner,was the soft and fuzzy night line,withinwhose dark shadow therewasthesparkingoftheradioactiveareas.Hisattentionwasdrawnfromthewindowbythelaughteramongtheothers.It
seemedtocenteraboutanelderlycouple,comfortablystoutandallsmiles.Arvardannudgedhisneighbor.“What’sgoingon?”Hisneighborpaused to say, “They’vebeenmarried fortyyears, and they’re
makingtheGrandTour.”“TheGrandTour?”“Youknow.AllaroundtheEarth.”Theelderlyman,flushedwithpleasure,wasrecountinginvolublefashionhis
experiences and impressions. His wife joined in periodically, with meticulous
corrections involving completely unimportant points; these being given andtaken in the best of humor. To all this the audience listenedwith the greatestattention,sothattoArvardanitseemedthatEarthmenwereaswarmandhumanasanypeopleintheGalaxy.And then someone asked, “And when is it that you’re scheduled for the
Sixty?”“Inaboutamonth,”cametheready,cheerfulanswer.“SixteenthNovember.”“Well,” said the questioner, “I hope you have a nice day for it.My father
reachedhisSixtyinadamnedpouringrain.I’veneverseenonelikeitsince.Iwasgoingwithhim—youknow,afellowlikescompanyonadaylikethat—andhecomplainedabout the rainevery stepof theway.Wehadanopenbiwheel,yousee,andwegotsoaked. ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘whatareyoucomplainingabout,Dad?I’vegottocomeback.’”Therewasageneralhowloflaughterwhichtheanniversarycouplewerenot
backwardinjoining.Arvardan,however,feltplungedinhorrorasadistinctanduncomfortablesuspicionenteredhismind.Hesaidtothemansharinghisseat,“ThisSixty,thissubjectofconversation
here—Itakeitthey’rereferringtoeuthanasia.Imean,you’reputoutofthewaywhenyoureachyoursixtiethbirthday,aren’tyou?”Arvardan’svoice faded somewhat ashisneighbor chokedoff the lastofhis
chucklestoturninhisseatandfavorthequestionerwithalongandsuspiciousstare.Finallyhesaid,“Well,whatdoyouthinkhemeant?”Arvardanmadeanindefinitegesturewithhishandandsmiledratherfoolishly.
He had known of the custom, but only academically. Something in a book.Somethingdiscussedinascientificpaper.Butitwasnowborneinuponhimthatit actually applied to living beings, that themen andwomen surrounding himcould,bycustom,liveonlytosixty.Theman next to himwas still staring. “Hey, fella,where you from?Don’t
theyknowabouttheSixtyinyourhometown?”“We call it the ‘Time,’ ” said Arvardan feebly. “I’m from back there.” He
jerkedhisthumbhardoverhisshoulder,andafteranadditionalquarterminutetheotherwithdrewthathard,questioningstare.Arvardan’s lips quirked. These people were suspicious. That facet of the
caricature,atleast,wasauthentic.Theelderlymanwastalkingagain.“She’scomingwithme,”hesaid,nodding
toward his genial wife. “She’s not due for about three months after that, butthere’s no point in herwaiting, she thinks, andwemight aswell go together.Isn’tthatit,Chubby?”“Ohyes,”shesaid,andgiggledrosily.“Ourchildrenareallmarriedandhave
homesof theirown.I’d justbeabother to them.Besides, Icouldn’tenjoy thetimeanywaywithouttheoldfellow—sowe’lljustleaveofftogether.”Whereupon the entire list of passengers seemed to engage themselves in a
simultaneousarithmeticalcalculationof the timeremainingtoeach—aprocessinvolving conversion factors from months to days that occasioned severaldisputesamongthemarriedcouplesinvolved.Onesmallfellowwithtightclothesandadeterminedexpressionsaidfiercely,
“I’vegotexactly twelveyears, threemonths,and fourdays left.Twelveyears,threemonths,andfourdays.Notadaymore,notadayless.”Which someone qualified by saying, reasonably, “Unless you die first, of
course.”“Nonsense,”wastheimmediatereply.“Ihavenointentionofdyingfirst.DoI
look like the sort ofmanwhowould die first? I’m living twelve years, threemonths,andfourdays,andthere’snotamanherewiththehardihoodtodenyit.”Andhelookedveryfierceindeed.Aslimyoungmantookalong,dandyishcigarettefrombetweenhislipstosay
darkly,“It’swellforthemthatcancalculateitouttoaday.There’smanyamanlivingpasthistime.”“Ah,surely,”saidanother,andtherewasageneralnodandaratherinchoate
airofindignationarose.“Not,” continued the young man, interspersing his cigarette puffs with a
complicatedflourish intendedtoremovetheash,“that Iseeanyobjection toaman—orwoman—wishingtocontinueonpasttheirbirthdaytothenextCouncilday, particularly if they have somebusiness to clean up. It’s these sneaks andparasites that try to go past to the next Census, eating the food of the nextgeneration—”Heseemedtohaveapersonalgrievancethere.Arvardaninterposedgently,“Butaren’ttheagesofeveryoneregistered?They
can’tverywellpasstheirbirthdaytoofar,canthey?”A general silence followed, admixtured not a little with contempt at the
foolish idealism expressed. Someone said at last, in diplomatic fashion, asthoughattempting toconclude thesubject,“Well, there isn’tmuchpoint livingpasttheSixty,Isuppose.”“Not if you’re a farmer,” shot back another vigorously. “After you’ve been
workinginthefieldsforhalfacentury,you’dbecrazynottobegladtocallitoff.Howabouttheadministrators,though,andthebusinessmen?”Finally the elderlyman,whose fortiethwedding anniversary had begun the
conversation,venturedhisownopinion,emboldenedperhapsbythefactthat,asacurrentvictimoftheSixty,hehadnothingtolose.“Astothat,”hesaid,“itdependsonwhoyouknow.”Andhewinkedwitha
slyinnuendo.“Iknewamanoncewhowassixtytheyearafterthe810Censusand lived till the820Censuscaughthim.Hewassixty-ninebeforehe leftoff.Sixty-nine!Thinkofthat!”“Howdidhemanagethat?”“Hehada littlemoney,andhisbrotherwasoneof theSocietyofAncients.
There’snothingyoucan’tdoifyou’vegotthatcombination.”Therewasgeneralapprovalofthatsentiment.“Listen,”saidtheyoungmanwiththecigaretteemphatically,“Ihadanuncle
who livedayearpast—just ayear.Hewas justoneof these selfishguyswhodon’tfeellikegoing,youknow.Alothecaredfortherestofus....AndIdidn’tknowaboutit,yousee,orIwouldhavereportedhim,believeme,becauseaguyshouldgowhenit’shistime.It’sonlyfairtothenextgeneration.Anyway,hegotcaughtallright,andthefirstthingIknew,theBrotherhoodcallsonmeandmybrotherandwantstoknowhowcomewedidn’treporthim.Isaid,hell,Ididn’tknowanythingaboutit;nobodyinmyfamilyknewanythingaboutit.Isaidwehadn’tseenhimintenyears.Myoldmanbackedusup.Butwegotfinedfivehundredcreditsjustthesame.That’swhenyoudon’thaveanypull.”The look of discomposure on Arvardan’s face was growing. Were these
people madmen to accept death so—to resent their friends and relatives whotried to escapedeath?Couldhe,byaccident,beona shipcarryinga cargooflunaticstoasylum—oreuthanasia?OrwerethesesimplyEarthmen?Hisneighborwasscowlingathimagain,andhisvoicebrokeinonArvardan’s
thoughts.“Heyfella,where’s‘backthere’?”“Pardonme?”“I said—where are you from? You said ‘back there.’What’s ‘back there’?
Hey?”Arvardanfoundtheeyesofalluponhimnow,eachwithitsownsuddenspark
ofsuspicion in it.Did they thinkhimamemberof thisSocietyofAncientsoftheirs?Hadhisquestioningseemedthecajoleryofanagentprovocateur?Sohemetthatbysaying,inaburstoffrankness,“I’mnotfromanywhereon
Earth. I’mBelArvardanfromBaronn,SiriusSector.What’syourname?”Andheheldouthishand.Hemightaswellhavedroppedanatomicexplosivecapsuleintothemiddleof
theplane.Thefirstsilenthorroroneveryfaceturnedrapidlyintoangry,bitterhostility
that flamedathim.Themanwhohadsharedhis seat rosestifflyandcrowdedinto another, where the pair of occupants squeezed closely together to makeroomforhim.Facesturnedaway.Shoulderssurroundedhim,hemmedhimin.Foramoment
Arvardanburnedwithindignation.Earthmentotreathimso.Earthmen!Hehadheldoutthehandoffriendshiptothem.He,aSirian,hadcondescendedtotreatwiththemandtheyhadrebuffedhim.Andthen,withaneffort,herelaxed.Itwasobviousthatbigotrywasnevera
one-wayoperation,thathatredbredhatred!He was conscious of a presence beside him, and he turned toward it
resentfully.“Yes?”Itwas the youngmanwith the cigarette.Hewas lighting a new one as he
spoke.“Hello,”hesaid.“Myname’sCreen....Don’tletthosejerksgetyou.”“Noone’sgettingme,”saidArvardanshortly.Hewasnottoopleasedwiththe
company,norwasheinthemoodforpatronizingadvicefromanEarthman.ButCreenwasnot trained to thedetectionof themoredelicatenuances.He
puffedhiscigarettetolifeinman-sizeddragsandtappeditsashesoverthearmoftheseatintothemiddleaisle.“Provincials!” he whispered with contempt. “Just a bunch of farmers. . . .
TheylacktheGalacticview.Don’tbotherwiththem....Nowyoutakeme.Igotadifferentphilosophy.Liveandletlive,Isay.IgotnothingagainstOutsiders.Iftheywant to be friendlywithme, I’ll be friendlywith them.What the hell—Theycan’thelpbeinganOutsiderjustlikeIcan’thelpbeinganEarthman.Don’tyouthinkI’mright?”AndhetappedArvardanfamiliarlyonthewrist.Arvardan nodded and felt a crawling sensation at the other’s touch. Social
contactwith amanwho felt resentful over losing a chance to bring about hisuncle’sdeathwasnotpleasant,quiteregardlessofplanetaryorigin.Creen leanedback.“Heading forChica?Whatdidyousayyournamewas?
Albadan?”“Arvardan.Yes,I’mgoingtoChica.”“That’smyhometown.BestdamnedcityonEarth.Goingtostaytherelong?”“Maybe.Ihaven’tmadeanyplans.”“Umm....Say,Ihopeyoudon’tobjecttomysayingthatI’vebeennoticing
yourshirt.MindifItakeacloselook?MadeinSirius,huh?”“Yes,itis.”“It’sverygoodmaterial.Can’tgetanythinglikethatonEarth.. . .Say,bud,
youwouldn’thaveaspareshirtlikethatinyourluggage,wouldyou?I’dpayforitifyouwantedtosellit.It’sasnappynumber.”Arvardan shook his head emphatically. “Sorry, but I don’t havemuch of a
wardrobe.IamplanningtobuyclotheshereonEarthasIgoalong.”“I’llpayyoufiftycredits,”saidCreen....Silence.Headded,withatouchof
resentment,“That’sagoodprice.”“Averygoodprice,” saidArvardan, “but, as I told you, I haveno shirts to
sell.”“Well . . .” Creen shrugged. “Expect to stay on Earth quite a while, I
suppose?”“Maybe.”“What’syourlineofbusiness?”Thearchaeologistallowedirritationtorisetothesurface.“Look,Mr.Creen,if
youdon’tmind, I’ma little tiredandwould like to takeanap. Is thatall rightwithyou?”Creen frowned. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t your kind believe in
beingciviltopeople?I’mjustaskingyouapolitequestion;noneedtobitemyearoff.”Theconversation,hithertoconductedinalowvoice,hadsuddenlyamplified
itself into a near shout. Hostile expressions turned Arvardan’s way, and thearchaeologist’slipscompressedthemselvesintoathinline.Hehadasked for it, hedecidedbitterly.Hewouldnothavegotten into this
mess ifhehadheldalooffromthebeginning, ifhehadn’tfelt thenecessityofvauntinghisdamnedtoleranceandforcingitonpeoplewhodidn’twantit.Hesaid levelly,“Mr.Creen, Ididn’taskyou to joinme,andIhaven’tbeen
uncivil.Irepeat,Iamtiredandwouldliketorest.Ithinkthere’snothingunusualinthat.”“Listen”—theyoungmanrosefromhisseat,threwhiscigaretteawaywitha
violentgesture,andpointedafinger—“youdon’thavetotreatmelikeI’madogor something. You stinking Outsiders come here with your fine talk andstandoffishnessand think itgivesyou the right to stampalloverus.Wedon’thave to stand for it, see. Ifyoudon’t like ithere,youcangobackwhereyoucamefrom,anditwon’ttakemuchmoreofyourliptomakemelightintoyou,either.YouthinkI’mafraidofyou?”Arvardanturnedhisheadawayandstaredstonilyoutthewindow.Creen said no more, but took his original seat once again. There was an
excitedbuzzofconversationroundandabouttheplanewhichArvardanignored.Hefelt,ratherthansaw,thesharpenedandenvenomedglancesbeingcastathim.Until,gradually,itpassed,asallthingsdid.Hecompletedthejourney,silentandalone.
The landing at the Chica airport was welcome. Arvardan smiled tohimself at the first sight from the air of the “best damned city onEarth,” butfound it, nevertheless, an immense improvement over the thick, unfriendlyatmosphereoftheplane.
He supervised the unloading of his luggage and had it transferred into abiwheelcab.Atleasthewouldbetheonlypassengerhere,sothatifhetookcarenottospeakunnecessarilytothedriver,hecouldscarcelygetintotrouble.“StateHouse,”hetoldthecabby,andtheywereoff.ArvardanthusenteredChicaforthefirsttime,andhedidsoonthedaythat
JosephSchwartzescapedfromhisroomattheInstituteforNuclearResearch.CreenwatchedArvardanleavewithabitterhalf-smile.Hetookouthislittlebookandstudieditcloselybetweenpuffsathiscigarette.Hehadn’tgottenmuchoutofthepassengers,despitehisstoryabouthisuncle(whichhehadusedoftenbeforetogoodeffect).Tobesure,theoldguyhadcomplainedaboutamanlivingpasthistimeandhadblamediton“pull”withtheAncients.ThatwouldcomeundertheheadingofslanderagainsttheBrotherhood.ButthenthegeezerwasheadingfortheSixtyinamonth,anyway.Nouseputtinghisnamedown.But thisOutsider, thatwasdifferent.Hesurveyed the itemwitha feelingof
pleasure: “Bel Arvardan, Baronn, Sirius Sector—curious about the Sixty—secretiveaboutownaffairs—enteredChicabycommercialplane11a.m.Chicatime,12October—anti-Terrestrianattitudeverymarked.”This time maybe he had a real haul. Picking up these little squealers who
madeincautiousremarkswasdullwork,butthingslikethismadeitpayoff.TheBrotherhoodwouldhavehisreportbeforehalfanhourwasup.Hemade
hiswayleisurelyoffthefield.
8
ConvergenceatChica
For the twentieth timeDr. Shekt leafed through his latest volume ofresearch notes, then looked up as Pola entered his office. She frowned as sheslippedonherlabcoat.“Now,Father,haven’tyoueatenyet?”“Eh?CertainlyIhave....Oh,what’sthis?”“Thisislunch.Oritwas,once.Whatyouatemusthavebeenbreakfast.Now
there’snosenseinmybuyingmealsandbringingthemhereifyou’renotgoingtoeatthem.I’mjustgoingtomakeyougohomeforthem.”“Don’tget excited. I’ll eat it. I can’t interruptavital experimentevery time
youthinkIoughttoeat,youknow.”He grew cheerful again over the dessert. “You have no idea,” he said, “the
kindofmanthisSchwartzis.DidIevertellyouabouthisskullsutures?”“They’reprimitive.Youtoldme.”“But that’snotall.He’sgot thirty-two teeth: threemolarsupanddown, left
and right, counting one false one thatmust be homemade.At least I’ve neverseen a bridge that hasmetal prongs hooking it onto adjacent teeth instead ofbeinggraftedtothejawbone....Buthaveyoueverseenanyonewiththirty-twoteeth?”“Idon’tgoaboutcountingpeople’steeth,Father.What’stherightnumber—
twenty-eight?”“It sure asSpace is. . . . I’m still not finished, though.We took an internal
analysisyesterday.Whatdoyousupposewefound?...Guess!”“Intestines?”“Pola,you’rebeingdeliberatelyannoying,butIdon’tcare.Youneedn’tguess;
I’ll tellyou.Schwartzhasavermiformappendix, threeandahalf inches long,andit’sopen.GreatGalaxy,it’scompletelyunprecedented!Ihavecheckedwiththe Medical School—cautiously, of course—and appendixes are practicallyneverlongerthanhalfaninch,andthey’reneveropen.”“Andjustwhatdoesthatmean?”“Why,he’sacompletethrowback,alivingfossil.”Hehadrisenfromhischair
andpaced thedistance to thewallandbackwithhastysteps.“I tellyouwhat,Pola,Idon’tthinkweoughttogiveSchwartzup.He’stoovaluableaspecimen.”“No, no, Father,” said Pola quickly, “you can’t do that. You promised that
farmer to return Schwartz, and you must for Schwartz’s own sake. He’sunhappy.”“Unhappy!Why,we’retreatinghimlikearichOutsider.”“Whatdifferencedoesthatmake?Thepoorfellowisusedtohisfarmandhis
people.He’slivedthereallhislife.Andnowhe’shadafrighteningexperience—apainfulone,forallIknow—andhismindworksdifferentlynow.Hecan’tbeexpectedtounderstand.We’vegottoconsiderhishumanrightsandreturnhimtohisfamily.”“But,Pola,thecauseofscience—”“Oh,shush!Whatisthecauseofscienceworthtome?Whatdoyousuppose
theBrotherhoodwillsaywhentheyhearofyourunauthorizedexperiments?Doyouthinktheycareaboutthecauseofscience?Imean,consideryourselfifyoudon’t wish to consider Schwartz. The longer you keep him, the greater thechance of being caught. You send him home tomorrow night, the way youoriginallyplannedto,doyouhear?...I’llgodownandseeifSchwartzwantsanythingbeforedinner.”But shewas back in less than fiveminutes, face damp and chalky. “Father,
he’sgone!”“Who’sgone?”heasked,startled.“Schwartz!”shecried,halfintears.“Youmusthaveforgottentolockthedoor
whenyoulefthim.”Shektwasonhisfeet,throwingahandouttosteadyhimself.“Howlong?”“Idon’tknow.Butitcan’tbeverylong.Whenwereyoulastthere?”“Notfifteenminutes.Ihadjustbeenhereaminuteortwowhenyoucamein.”“Well,then,”withsuddendecision,“I’llrunout.Hemaysimplybewandering
about the neighborhood. You stay here. If someone else picks him up, theymustn’tconnecthimwithyou.Understand?”
Shektcouldonlynod.Joseph Schwartz felt no lifting of the heart when he exchanged theconfinesofhisprisonhospital for theexpansesof thecityoutside.Hedidnotdelude himself to the effect that he had a plan of action.He knew, and knewwell,thathewassimplyimprovising.If any rational impulse guided him (as distinct from mere blind desire to
exchange inaction for action of any sort), it was the hope that by chanceencountersomefacetof lifewouldbringbackhiswanderingmemory.Thathewasanamnesiachewasnowfullyconvinced.Thefirstglimpseofthecity,however,wasdisheartening.Itwaslateafternoon
and, in the sunlight,Chicawas amilkywhite.Thebuildingsmighthavebeenconstructedofporcelain,likethatfarmhousehehadfirststumbledupon.Stirringsdeepwithintoldhimthatcitiesshouldbebrownandred.Andthey
shouldbemuchdirtier.Hewassureofthat.Hewalkedslowly.Hefelt,somehow,thattherewouldbenoorganizedsearch
forhim.Heknewthat,withoutknowinghowheknew.Tobesure,inthelastfewdays he had found himself growing increasingly sensitive to “atmosphere,” tothe“feel”ofthingsabouthim.Itwaspartofthestrangenessinhismind,since—since...Histhoughttrailedaway.In any case, the “atmosphere” at the hospital prisonwas one of secrecy; a
frightenedsecrecy,itseemed.Sotheycouldnotpursuehimwithloudoutcry.Heknew that.Nowwhyshouldheknowthat?Wasthisqueeractivityofhismindpartofwhatwentonincasesofamnesia?He crossed another intersection. Wheeled vehicles were relatively few.
Pedestrians were—well, pedestrians. Their clothes were rather laughable:seamless,buttonless,colorful.Butthensowerehisown.Hewonderedwherehisoldclotheswere,thenwonderedifhehadeverreallyownedsuchclothesasheremembered.Itisverydifficulttobesureofanything,onceyoubegindoubtingyourmemoryonprinciple.Butherememberedhiswifesoclearly;hischildren.Theycouldn’tbefictions.
He stopped in the middle of the walk to regain a composure suddenly lost.Perhaps theywere distorted versions of real people, in this so unreal-seemingreallife,whomhemustfind.Peoplewerebrushingpasthimandseveralmutteredunamiably.Hemovedon.
The thought occurred to him, suddenly and forcibly, that he was hungry, orwouldbesoon,andthathehadnomoney.
Helookedabout.Nothinglikearestaurantinsight.Well,howdidheknow?Hecouldn’treadthesigns.Hegazedintoeachstorefronthepassed. . . .Andthenhefoundaninterior
whichconsistedinpartofsmallalcovedtables,atoneofwhichtwomensatandanotheratwhichasinglemansat.Andthemenwereeating.Atleastthathadn’tchanged.Menwhoatestillchewedandswallowed.He stepped in and, for a moment, stopped in considerable bewilderment.
Therewasnocounter,nocookinggoingon,nosignsofanykitchen.Ithadbeenhisideatooffertowashthedishesforameal,but—towhomcouldhemaketheoffer?Diffidently, he stepped up to the two diners. He pointed, and said
painstakingly,“Food!Where?Please.”They looked up at him, rather startled. One spoke fluently, and quite
incomprehensibly,pattingasmallstructureatthewallendofthetable.Theotherjoinedin,impatiently.Schwartz’seyesfell.Heturnedtoleave,andtherewasahanduponhissleeve
—Granz had seen Schwartzwhile the latter was still only a plump andwistfulfaceatthewindow.Hesaid,“What’shewant?”Messter, sitting across the little table, with his back to the street, turned,
looked,shruggedhisshoulders,andsaidnothing.Granzsaid,“He’scomingin,”andMessterreplied,“Sowhat?”“Nothing.Justmentioningit.”But a few moments later the newcomer, after looking about helplessly,
approached and pointed to their beef stew, saying in a queer accent, “Food!Where?Please.”Granzlookedup.“Foodrighthere,bud.Justpullupachairatanytableyou
wantandusetheFoodomat.. . .Foodomat!Don’tyouknowwhataFoodomatis? . . . Look at the poor jerk, Messter. He’s looking at me as if he doesn’tunderstandawordIsay.Hey,fella—thisthing,see.Justputacoininandletmeeat,willyou?”“Leavehimalone,”gruntedMesster.“He’sjustabum,lookingforahandout.”“Hey,holdon.”GranzseizedSchwartz’ssleeveasthelatterturnedtogo.He
addedinanasidetoMesster,“Space,lettheguyeat.He’sprobablygettingtheSixtysoon.It’stheleastIcandotogivehimabreak....Hey,bud,yougotanymoney? . . .Well, I’ll bedamned,he still doesn’tunderstandme.Money,pal,
money! This—” And he drew a shining half-credit piece out of his pocket,flippingitsothatitsparkledintheair.“Gotany?”heasked.SlowlySchwartzshookhishead.“Well,then,havethisonme!”Hereplacedthehalf-creditpieceinhispocket
andtossedoveraconsiderablysmallercoin.Schwartzheldituncertainly.“Allright.Don’tjuststandthere.StickitintheFoodomat.Thisthinghere.”Schwartzsuddenlyfoundhimselfunderstanding.TheFoodomathadaseries
of slits for coins of different sizes and a series of knobs opposite littlemilkyrectangles, thewritinguponwhichhe couldnot read.Schwartz pointed to thefood on the table and ran a forefinger up and down the knobs, raising hiseyebrowsinquestion.Messter said in annoyance, “A sandwich isn’t good enough for him.We’re
getting classy bums in this burg nowadays. It doesn’t pay to humor them,Granz.”“Allright,soIlosepointeightfivecredits.Tomorrow’spayday,anyway....
Here,”hesaidtoSchwartz.HeplacedcoinsofhisownintotheFoodomatandwithdrewthewidemetalcontainerfromtherecessinthewall.“Nowtakeit toanothertable....Nah,keepthattenthpiece.Buyyourselfacupofcoffeewithit.”Schwartz carried the container gingerly to the next table. It had a spoon
attachedtothesidebymeansofatransparent,filmymaterial,whichbrokewitha slight pop under the pressure of a fingernail. As it did so, the top of thecontainerpartedataseamandcurledbackuponitself.Thefood,unlikethatwhichhesawtheotherseating,wascold;butthatwasa
detail. It was only after a minute or so that he realized the food was gettingwarmerandthatthecontainerhadgrownhottothetouch.Hestopped,inalarm,andwaited.Thegravy first steamed, thenbubbledgently for amoment. It cooled again
andSchwartzcompletedthemeal.Granz andMesster were still there when he left. So was the third man, to
whom,throughout,Schwartzhadpaidnoattention.NorhadSchwartznoticed,atanytimesincehehadlefttheInstitute,thethin,
little man who, without seeming to, had managed to remain always withineyeshot.Bel Arvardan, having showered and changed his clothes, promptly
followedhisoriginalintentionofobservingthehumananimal,subspeciesEarth,in its native habitat. The weather was mild, the light breeze refreshing, thevillageitself—pardon,thecity—bright,quiet,andclean.Notsobad.Chica first stop, he thought. Largest collection of Earthmen on the planet.
Washenn next; local capital. Senloo! Senfran! Bonair! . . . He had plotted anitineraryalloverthewesterncontinents(wheremostofthemeagerscatteringofEarth’spopulation lived)and,allowingtwoor threedaysateach,hewouldbebackinChicajustaboutthetimehisexpeditionaryshipwasdue.Itwouldbeeducational.As afternoon began to decline he stepped into a Foodomat and, as he ate,
observedthesmalldramathatplayeditselfoutbetweenthetwoEarthmenwhohadenteredshortlyafterhimselfandtheplump,elderlymanwhocameinlastofall.Buthisobservationwasdetachedandcasual,simplynotingitasanitemtoset against his unpleasant experience on the jet transport. The twomen at thetable were obviously air-cab drivers and not wealthy, yet they could becharitable.Thebeggarleft,andtwominuteslaterArvardanleftaswell.Thestreetswerenoticeablyfuller,astheworkdaywasapproachingitsend.Hesteppedhastilyasidetoavoidcollidingwithayounggirl.“Pardonme,”hesaid.Shewasdressed inwhite, in clothingwhichbore the stereotyped lines of a
uniform.Sheseemedquiteobliviousofthenearcollision.Theanxiouslookonherface,thesharpturningofherheadfromsidetoside,herutterpreoccupation,madethesituationquiteobvious.He laid a light finger on her shoulder. “May I help you,miss?Are you in
trouble?”She stopped and turned startled eyes upon him. Arvardan found himself
judging her age at nineteen to twenty-one, observing carefully her brown hairanddarkeyes,herhighcheekbonesandlittlechin,herslimwaistandgracefulcarriage.Hediscovered,suddenly,thatthethoughtofthislittlefemalecreaturebeinganEarthwomanlentasortofperversepiquancytoherattractiveness.Butshewasstillstaring,andalmostatthemomentofspeakingsheseemedto
breakdown.“Oh,it’snouse.Pleasedon’tbotheraboutme.It’ssillytoexpecttofindsomeonewhenyoudon’thavetheslightestideawherehecouldhavegone.”Shewasdrooping indiscouragement,hereyeswet.Then she straightenedandbreatheddeeply.“Haveyouseenaplumpmanaboutfive-four,dressedingreenandwhite,nohat,ratherbald?”Arvardanlookedatherinastonishment.“What?Greenandwhite?...Oh,I
don’tbelievethis. . . .Look, thismanyou’rereferringto—doeshespeakwithdifficulty?”“Yes,yes.Ohyes.Youhaveseenhim,then?”“Notfiveminutesagohewasinthereeatingwithtwomen....Heretheyare.
...Say,youtwo.”Hebeckonedthemover.Granzreachedthemfirst.“Cab,sir?”“No,butifyoutelltheyoungladywhathappenedtothemanyouwereeating
with,you’llstandtomakethefare,anyway.”Granzpausedand lookedchagrined.“Well, I’d like tohelpyou,but Inever
sawhimbeforeinmylife.”Arvardan turned to the girl. “Now look, miss, he can’t have gone in the
direction you came from or you’d have seen him. And he can’t be far away.Supposewemovenorthabit.I’llrecognizehimifIseehim.”His offer of help was an impulse, yet Arvardan was not, ordinarily, an
impulsiveman.Hefoundhimselfsmilingather.Granzinterruptedsuddenly.“What’shedone,lady?Hehasn’tbrokenanyof
theCustoms,hashe?”“No,no,”sherepliedhastily.“He’sonlyalittlesick,that’sall.”Messterlookedafterthemastheyleft.“Alittlesick?”Heshovedhisvisored
capbackuponhishead,thenpinchedbalefullyathischin.“Howd’yalikethat,Granz?Alittlesick.”Hiseyeslookedaskanceattheotherforamoment.“What’sgotintoyou?”askedGranzuneasily.“Somethingthat’smakingmealittlesick.Thatguymust’vebeenstraightout
of thehospital.Thatwasanurse looking forhim,andaplentyworriednurse,too.Whyshouldshebeworriedifhewasjusta littlesick?Hecouldn’thardlytalk,andhedidn’thardlyunderstand.Younoticedthat,didn’tyou?”There was a sudden panicky light in Granz’s eyes. “You don’t think it’s
Fever?”“Isuredothinkit’sRadiationFever—andhe’sfargone.Hewaswithinafoot
ofus,too.It’sneveranygood—”Therewasalittlethinmannexttothem.Alittlethinmanwithbright,sharp
eyes and a twittering voice, who had stepped out of nowhere. “What’s that,gents?Who’sgotRadiationFever?”Hewasregardedwithdisfavor.“Whoareyou?”“Ho,”saidthesharplittleman,“youwanttoknow,doyou?Itsohappensthat
I’m amessenger of the Brotherhood, to be sure.” He flashed a little glowingbadge on the inner lapel of his jacket. “Now, in the name of the Society ofAncients,what’sallthisaboutRadiationFever?”
Messter spoke in cowed and sullen tones. “I don’t knownothing.There’s anurselookingforsomebodywho’ssick,andIwaswonderingifitwasRadiationFever.That’snotagainsttheCustoms,isit?”“Ho!You’retellingmeabouttheCustoms,areyou?Youbettergoaboutyour
businessandletmeworryabouttheCustoms.”The little man rubbed his hands together, gazed quickly about him, and
hurriednorthward.“Thereheis!”andPolaclutchedfeverishlyathercompanion’selbow.Ithadhappenedquickly,easily,andaccidentally.Throughthedespairingblanknesshe had suddenlymaterialized justwithin themain entrance of the self-servicedepartmentstore,notthreeblocksfromtheFoodomat.“Iseehim,”whisperedArvardan.“Nowstaybackandletmefollowhim.If
heseesyouanddashesintothemob,we’llneverlocatehim.”Casually theyfollowed inasortofnightmarechase.Thehumancontentsof
thestorewasaquicksandwhichcouldabsorbitspreyslowly—orquickly—keepithiddenimpenetrably,spewitforthunexpectedly,setupbarriersthatsomehowwouldnotyield.Themobmightalmosthavehadamalevolentconsciousmindofitsown.AndthenArvardancircledacounterwatchfully,playingSchwartzasthough
hewereattheendofafishingline.Hishugehandreachedoutandclosedontheother’sshoulder.Schwartz burst into incomprehensible prose and jerked away in panic.
Arvardan’sgrip,however,wasunbreakable tomenfarstronger thanSchwartz,and he contented himself with smiling and saying, in normal tones, for thebenefitof thecurious spectator, “Hello,oldchap,haven’t seenyou inmonths.Howareyou?”Apalpable fraud,hesupposed, in the faceof theother’sgibberish,butPola
hadjoinedthem.“Schwartz,”shewhispered,“comebackwithus.”ForamomentSchwartzstiffenedinrebellion,thenhedrooped.Hesaidwearily,“I—go—along—you,”butthestatementwasdrownedinthe
suddenblareofthestore’sloud-speakersystem.“Attention!Attention!Attention!Themanagementrequeststhatallpatronsof
thestoreleavebytheFifthStreetexitinorderlyfashion.Youwillpresentyourregistration cards to the guards at the door. It is essential that this be donerapidly.Attention!Attention!Attention!”The message was repeated three times, the last time over the sound of
scufflingfeetascrowdswerebeginningtolineupattheexits.Amany-tonguedcrywasmakingitselfheard,askinginvariousfashionstheforever-unanswerablequestionof“What’shappened?What’sgoingon?”Arvardanshruggedandsaid,“Let’sgetonline,miss.We’releavinganyway.”ButPolashookherhead.“Wecan’t.Wecan’t—”“Whynot?”Thearchaeologistfrowned.Thegirlmerelyshrankawayfromhim.HowcouldshetellhimthatSchwartz
hadnoregistrationcard?Whowashe?Whyhadhebeenhelpingher?Shewasinawhirlofsuspicionanddespair.Shesaidhuskily,“You’dbettergo,oryou’llgetintotrouble.”Theywerepouringout the elevators as theupper floors emptied.Arvardan,
Pola,andSchwartzwerealittleislandofsolidityinthehumanriver.Lookingbackonitlater,Arvardanrealizedthatatthispointhecouldhaveleft
thegirl.Lefther!Neverseenheragain!Havenothingtoreproachhimselfwith!. . .Andallwouldhavebeendifferent.ThegreatGalacticEmpirewouldhavedissolvedinchaosanddestruction.Hedidnotleavethegirl.Shewasscarcelyprettyinherfearanddespair.No
onecouldbe.ButArvardanfeltdisturbedatthesightofherhelplessness.Hehadtakenastepaway,andnowheturned.“Areyougoingtostayhere?”Shenodded.“Butwhy?”hedemanded.“Because”—andthetearsnowoverflowed—“Idon’tknowwhatelsetodo.”Shewasjustalittle,frightenedgirl,evenifshewasanEarthie.Arvardansaid,
inasoftervoice,“Ifyou’lltellmewhat’swrong,I’lltrytohelp.”Therewasnoanswer.The three formed a tableau. Schwartz had sunk to the floor in a squatting
posture, toosickatheart to try tofollowtheconversation, tobecuriousat thesuddenemptinessofthestore,todoanythingbutburyhisheadinhishandsinthelastunspokenandunutteredwhimperofdespair.Pola,weeping,knewonlythatshewasmorefrightenedthanshehadeverthoughtitpossibleforanyonetobe.Arvardan,puzzledandwaiting,triedclumsilyandineffectuallytopatPola’sshoulderinencouragingfashion,andwasconsciousonlyofthefactthatforthefirsttimehehadtouchedanEarthgirl.Thelittlemancameuponthemthus.
9
ConflictatChica
LieutenantMarcClaudyoftheChicagarrisonyawnedslowlyandgazedinto the middle distance with an ineffable boredom. He was completing hissecondyearofdutyonEarthandwaitedyearninglyforreplacement.Nowhere in theGalaxywas the problemofmaintaining a garrison quite so
complicated as itwas on this horribleworld.On other planets there existed acertain camaraderie between soldier and civilian, particularly female civilian.Therewasasenseoffreedomandopenness.But here the garrisonwas a prison.Therewere the radiation-proof barracks
and the filtered atmosphere, free of radioactive dust. There was the lead-impregnated clothing, cold and heavy, which could not be removed withoutgrave risk.Asa corollary to that, fraternizationwith thepopulation (assumingthat the desperation of loneliness could drive a soldier to the society of an“Earthie”girl)wasoutofthequestion.Whatwasleft,then,butshortsnorts,longnaps,andslowmadness?LieutenantClaudyshookhisheadinafutileattempttoclearit,yawnedagain,
satupandbegandraggingonhisshoes.Helookedathiswatchanddecideditwasnotyetquitetimeforeveningchow.And thenhe jumped to his feet, onlyone shoeon, acutely consciousof his
uncombedhair,andsaluted.Thecolonel lookedabouthimdisparaginglybutsaidnothingdirectlyon the
subject.Insteadhedirectedcrisply,“Lieutenant,therearereportsofriotinginthe
business district. You will take a decontamination squad to the Dunhamdepartment store and take charge. You will see to it that all your men arethoroughlyprotectedagainstinfectionbyRadiationFever.”“RadiationFever!”criedthelieutenant.“Pardonme,sir,but—”“Youwillbereadytoleaveinfifteenminutes,”saidthecolonelcoldly.
Arvardansawthelittlemanfirst,andstiffenedastheothermadealittlegestureofgreeting.“Hi,guv’ner.Hi,bigfella.Tellthelittleladythereain’tnocallforthewaterworks.”Pola’sheadhadsnappedup,herbreath sucked in.Automatically she leaned
towardtheprotectingbulkofArvardan,who,asautomatically,putaprotectivearm about her. It did not occur to him that that was the second time he hadtouchedanEarthgirl.Hesaidsharply,“Whatdoyouwant?”The little man with the sharp eyes stepped diffidently out from behind a
counterpiledhighwithpackages.Hespoke inamannerwhichmanagedtobebothingratiatingandimpudentsimultaneously.“Here’saweirdgooutside,”hesaid,“but itdon’tneed tobotheryou,miss.
I’llgetyourmanbacktotheInstituteforyou.”“Whatinstitute?”demandedPolafearfully.“Aw,comeoff it,” said the littleman. “I’mNatter, fellawith the fruit stand
rightacross the street from the Institute forNuclearResearch. I seenyouherelotsoftimes.”“Seehere,”saidArvardanabruptly,“what’sallthisabout?”Natter’s little frame shook with merriment. “They think this fella here has
RadiationFever—”“RadiationFever?”ItcamefrombothArvardanandPolaatonce.Natternodded.“That’s right.Twocabbiesatewithhimand that’swhat they
said.Newslikethatkindaspreads,youknow.”“The guards outside,” demanded Pola, “are just looking for someone with
fever?”“That’sright.”“Andjustwhyaren’tyouafraidofthefever?”demandedArvardanabruptly.
“I take it that itwas fearofcontagion thatcaused theauthorities toempty thestore.”“Sure. The authorities are waiting outside, afraid to come in, too. They’re
waitingfortheOutsiders’decontaminationsquadtogethere.”“Andyou’renotafraidofthefever,isthatit?”
“Whyshould Ibe?Thisguydon’thaveno fever.Lookathim.Where’s thesoresonhismouth?Heisn’tflushed.Hiseyesareallright.Iknowwhatfeverlookslike.Comeon,miss,we’llmarchoutofhere,then.”ButPolawasfrightenedagain.“No,no.Wecan’t.He’s—he’s—”Shecouldn’t
goon.Natter said insinuatingly, “I could take him out. No questions asked. No
registrationcardnecessary—”Pola failed to suppress a little cry, and Arvardan said, with considerable
distaste,“Whatmakesyousoimportant?”Natter laughedhoarsely.He flippedhis lapel.“Messenger for theSocietyof
Ancients.Nobody’llaskmequestions.”“Andwhat’sinitforyou?”“Money!You’reanxiousandIcanhelpyou.Thereain’tno fairer than that.
It’sworth,say,ahundredcreditstoyou,andit’sworthahundredcreditstome.Fiftycreditsnow,fiftyondelivery.”ButPolawhisperedinhorror,“You’lltakehimtotheAncients.”“Whatfor?He’snogoodtothem,andhe’sworthahundredcreditstome.If
youwaitfortheOutsiders,they’reliabletokillthefellabeforetheyfindouthe’sfever-free.YouknowOutsiders—theydon’tcareiftheykillanEarthmanornot.They’drather,infact.”Arvardansaid,“Taketheyoungladywithyou.”But Natter’s little eyes were very sharp and very sly. “Oh no. Not that,
guv’ner.Itakewhatyoucallcalculatedrisks.Icangetbywithone,maybenotwith two.And if Ionly takeone, I take theonewhat’sworthmore.Ain’t thatreasonabletoyou?”“What,” said Arvardan, “if I pick you up and pull your legs off? What’ll
happenthen?”Natter flinched, but found his voice, nevertheless, and managed a laugh.
“Why,then,you’readope.They’llgetyouanyway,andthere’llbemurder,too,onthelist....Allright,guv’ner.Keepyourhandsoff.”“Please”—Pola was dragging at Arvardan’s arm—“wemust take a chance.
Lethimdoashesays....You’llbehonestwithus,w-won’tyou,Mr.Natter?”Natter’slipswerecurling.“Yourbigfriendwrenchedmyarm.Hehadnocall
to do that, and I don’t like nobody to pushme around. I’ll just take an extrahundredcreditsforthat.Twohundredinall.”“Myfather’llpayyou—”“Onehundredinadvance,”herepliedobdurately.“ButIdon’thaveahundredcredits,”Polawailed.“That’sallright,miss,”saidArvardanstonily.“Icanswingit.”
Heopenedhiswalletandpluckedoutseveralbills.HethrewthematNatter.“Getgoing!”“Gowithhim,Schwartz,”whisperedPola.Schwartzdid,withoutcomment,withoutcaring.Hewouldhavegonetohell
atthatmomentwithaslittleemotion.And theywere alone, staring at each other blankly. Itwas perhaps the first
timethatPolahadactuallylookedatArvardan,andshewasamazedtofindhimtallandcraggilyhandsome,calmandself-confident.Shehadacceptedhim tillnowasaninchoate,unmotivatedhelper,butnow—Shegrewsuddenlyshy,andall the events of the last hour or two were enmeshed and lost in a scurry ofheartbeating.Theydidn’tevenknoweachother’sname.Shesmiledandsaid,“I’mPolaShekt.”Arvardanhadnot seenher smilebefore,and foundhimself interested in the
phenomenon.Itwasaglowthatenteredherface,aradiance.Itmadehimfeel—Butheputthatthoughtawayroughly.AnEarthgirl!So he said,with perhaps less cordiality than he intended, “Myname isBel
Arvardan.”Heheldoutabronzedhand,intowhichherlittleonewasswallowedupforamoment.Shesaid,“Imustthankyouforallyourhelp.”Arvardanshruggeditaway.“Shallweleave?Imean,nowthatyourfriendis
gone;safely,Itrust.”“Ithinkwewouldhaveheardquiteanoiseiftheyhadcaughthim,don’tyou
thinkso?”Hereyeswerepleadingforconfirmationofherhope,andherefusedthetemptationtowardsoftness.“Shallwego?”Shewassomehowfrozen.“Yes,whynot?”sharply.Buttherewasawhiningintheair,ashrillmoanonthehorizon,andthegirl’s
eyeswerewideandheroutstretchedhandsuddenlywithdrawnagain.“What’sthematternow?”askedArvardan.“It’stheImperials.”“And are you frightened of them too?” It was the self-consciously non-
Earthman Arvardan who spoke—the Sirian archaeologist. Prejudice or not,however the logic might be chopped and minced, the approach of Imperialsoldiers meant a trace of sanity and humanity. There was room forcondescensionhere,andhegrewkind.“Don’tworryabouttheOutsiders,”hesaid,evenstoopingtousetheirtermfor
non-Earthmen.“I’llhandlethem,MissShekt.”Shewassuddenlyconcerned.“Ohno,don’ttryanythinglikethat.Justdon’t
talktothematall.Doastheysay,anddon’tevenlookatthem.”Arvardan’ssmilebroadened.
The guards saw them while they were still a distance from the mainentrance and fell back. They emerged into a little space of emptiness and astrangehush.Thewhineofthearmycarswasalmostuponthem.And then therewere armored cars in the square andgroupsof glass-globe–
headed soldiers springing out therefrom. The crowds scattered before them inpanic,aidedintheirscramblingsbyclippedshoutsandthrustswiththebuttendsoftheneuronicwhips.Lieutenant Claudy, in the lead, approached an Earthman guard at themain
entrance.“Allright,you,who’sgotthefever?”Hisfacewasslightlydistortedwithintheenclosingglass,withitscontentof
pureair.Hisvoicewasslightlymetallicasaresultofradioamplification.The guard bent his head in deep respect. “If it please your honor,we have
isolatedthepatientwithinthestore.Thetwowhowerewiththepatientarenowstandinginthedoorwaybeforeyou.”“Theyare,are they?Good!Let themstand there.Now—in the firstplace, I
wantthismoboutofhere.Sergeant!Clearthesquare!”There was a grim efficiency in the proceedings thereafter. The deepening
twilight gloomed over Chica as the crowdmelted into the darkening air. Thestreetswerebeginningtogleaminsoft,artificiallighting.LieutenantClaudytappedhisheavybootswiththebuttofhisneuronicwhip.
“You’resurethesickEarthieisinside?”“Hehasnotleft,yourhonor.Hemustbe.”“Well, we’ll assume he is and waste no time about it. Sergeant!
Decontaminatethebuilding!”A contingent of soldiers, hermetically sealed away from all contact with
Terrestrialenvironment,chargedinto thebuilding.Aslowquarterhourpassed,whileArvardanwatched all in absorbed fashion. It was a field experiment ininterculturalrelationshipsthathewasprofessionallyreluctanttodisturb.The last of the soldiers were out again, and the store was shrouded in
deepeningnight.“Sealthedoors!”Anotherfewminutesandthenthecansofdisinfectantwhichhadbeenplaced
inseveralspotsoneachfloorweredischargedatlongdistance.Intherecessesofthe building those cans were flung open and the thick vapors rolled out andcurledup thewalls,clinging toeverysquare inchofsurface, reaching through
theair and into the inmost crannies.Noprotoplasm, fromgerm toman, couldremainaliveinitspresence,andchemicalflushingofthemostpainstakingtypewouldberequiredeventuallyfordecontamination.ButnowthelieutenantwasapproachingArvardanandPola.“Whatwashisname?”Therewasnotevencrueltyinhisvoice,merelyutter
indifference.AnEarthman,hethought,hadbeenkilled.Well,hehadkilledaflythatdayalso.Thatmadetwo.Hereceivednoanswer,PolabendingherheadmeeklyandArvardanwatching
curiously. The Imperial officer did not take his eyes off them. He beckonedcurtly.“Checkthemforinfection.”An officer bearing the insignia of the Imperial Medical Corps approached
them, and was not gentle in his investigation. His gloved hands pushed hardunder theirarmpitsandyankedat thecornersof theirmouthsso thathemightinvestigatetheinnersurfacesoftheircheeks.“No infection, Lieutenant. If they had been exposed this afternoon, the
stigmatawouldbeclearlyvisiblebynowifinfectionhadoccurred.”“Umm.” Lieutenant Claudy carefully removed his globe and enjoyed the
touchof“live”air,eventhatofEarth.Hetuckedtheungainlyglassobjectintothecrookofhisleftelbowandsaidharshly,“Yourname,Earthie-squaw?”The term itselfwas richly insulting; the tone inwhich itwas uttered added
disgracetoit,butPolashowednosignofresentment.“PolaShekt,sir,”sherespondedinawhisper.“Yourpapers!”Shereached into thesmallpocketofherwhite jacketand removed thepink
folder.Hetookit,flareditopeninthelightofhispocketflash,andstudiedit.Then
hetosseditback.Itfell,fluttering,tothefloor,andPolabentquicklyforit.“Stand up,” the officer ordered impatiently, and kicked the booklet out of
reach.Pola,white-faced,snatchedherfingersaway.Arvardan frowned and decided itwas time to interfere.He said, “Say, look
here,now.”Thelieutenant turnedonhiminaflash,his lipsdrawnback.“Whatdidyou
say,Earthie?”Polawasbetweenthematonce.“Ifyouplease,sir,thismanhasnothingtodo
withanythingthathashappenedtoday.Ineversawhimbefore—”Thelieutenantyankedheraside.“Isaid,Whatdidyousay,Earthie?”Arvardanreturnedhisstarecoolly.“Isaid,Lookhere,now.AndIwasgoing
tosayfurtherthatIdon’tlikethewayyoutreatwomenandthatI’dadviseyoutoimproveyourmanners.”
Hewasfartooirritatedtocorrectthelieutenant’simpressionofhisplanetaryorigin.LieutenantClaudysmiledwithouthumor.“Andwherehaveyoubeenbrought
up, Earthie?Don’t you believe in saying ‘sir’ when you address aman?Youdon’t know your place, do you? Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had thepleasureofteachingthewayoflifetoanicebigEarthie-buck.Here,how’sthis—”And quickly, like the flick of a snake, his open palm was out and across
Arvardan’sface,backandforth,once,twice.Arvardansteppedbackinsurpriseandthenfelttheroaringinhisears.Hishandshotouttocatchtheextendedarmthatpeckedathim.Hesawtheother’sfacetwistinsurprise—Themusclesinhisshoulderswrithedeasily.The lieutenantwason thepavementwithacrashing thud that sent theglass
globe rolling into shattered fragments. He lay still, andArvardan’s half-smilewasferocious.Hedustedhishandslightly.“Anyotherbastardherethinkhecanplaypatty-cakeonmyface?”But thesergeanthad raisedhisneuronicwhip.Thecontactclosedand there
wasthedimvioletflashthatreachedoutandlickedatthetallarchaeologist.Everymuscle inArvardan’s body stiffened in unbearable pain, and he sank
slowlytohisknees.Then,withtotalparalysisuponhim,heblackedout.WhenArvardanswamoutofthehazehewasconsciousfirstofallofawashofwelcomecoolnessonhisforehead.Hetriedtoopenhiseyesandfoundhislidsreactingasifswingingonrustyhinges.Heletthemremainclosedand,with infinitelyslowjerks (eachfragmentarymuscularmovementshootingpinsthroughhim),liftedhisarmtohisface.Asoft,damptowel,heldbyalittlehand...Heforcedaneyeopenandbattledwiththemist.“Pola,”hesaid.Therewasalittlecryofsuddenjoy.“Yes.Howdoyoufeel?”“As if Iweredead,”hecroaked,“without theadvantageof losingpain. . . .
Whathappened?”“Wewerecartedofftothemilitarybase.Thecolonel’sbeeninhere.They’ve
searched you—and I don’t know what they’re going to do, but—Oh, Mr.Arvardan,you shouldn’t everhave struck the lieutenant. I thinkyoubrokehisarm.”A faint smile wrenched at Arvardan’s face. “Good! I wish I’d broken his
back.”
“But resisting an Imperial officer—it’s a capital offense.” Her voice was ahorrifiedwhisper.“Indeed?We’llseeaboutthat.”“Ssh.They’recomingback.”Arvardanclosedhiseyesandrelaxed.Pola’scrywasfaintandfar-off inhis
ears,andwhenhefelt thehypodermic’s thrusthecouldnotgatherhismusclesintomotion.Andthentherewasthewashofwonderfulsoothingnon-painalonghisveins
andnerves.Hisarmsunknottedandhisbackreleaseditselfslowlyfromitsrigidarch, settling down. He fluttered his eyelids rapidly and, with a thrust of hiselbow,satup.The colonel was regarding him thoughtfully; Pola, apprehensively, yet,
somehow,joyfully.The colonel said, “Well,Dr.Arvardan,we seem to have had an unpleasant
contretempsinthecitythisevening.”Dr. Arvardan. Pola realized the little she knew about him, not even his
occupation....Shehadneverfeltquitelikethis.Arvardan laughed shortly. “Unpleasant, you say. I consider that a rather
inadequateadjective.”“YouhavebrokenthearmofanofficeroftheEmpireabouttheperformance
ofhisduty.”“That officer struckme first.His duty in noway included the necessity for
grosslyinsultingme,bothverballyandphysically.Indoingsoheforfeitedanyclaimhemighthavetotreatmentasanofficerandgentleman.Asafreecitizenof the Empire, I had every right to resent such cavalier, not to say illegal,treatment.”Thecolonelharumphedandseemedatalossforwords.Polastaredatbothof
themwithwide,unbelievingeyes.Finallythecolonelsaidsoftly,“Well,IneednotsaythatIconsiderthewhole
incident to have been unfortunate.Apparently the pain and indignity involvedhavebeenequallyspreadonbothsides.Itmaybebesttoforgetthismatter.”“Forget? I think not. I have been a guest at theProcurator’s palace, and he
maybeinterestedinhearingexactlyinwhatmannerhisgarrisonmaintainsorderonEarth.”“Now,Dr.Arvardan,ifIassureyouthatyouwillreceiveapublicapology—”“Tohellwiththat.WhatdoyouintenddoingwithMissShekt?”“Whatwouldyousuggest?”“That you freeher instantly, returnher papers, and tenderyour apologies—
rightnow.”
Thecolonelreddened,thensaidwithaneffort,“Ofcourse.”HeturnedtoPola.“Iftheyoungladywillacceptmydeepestregrets...”Theyhad left thedarkgarrisonwalls behind them. It hadbeen a shortandsilent ten-minuteair-taxiride to thecityproper,andnowtheystoodat thedesertedblacknessoftheInstitute.Itwaspastmidnight.Pola said, “I don’t think I quite understand.Youmust be very important. It
seemssillyofmenot toknowyourname.Ididn’teverimaginethatOutsiderscouldtreatanEarthmanso.”Arvardanfeltoddlyreluctantandyetcompelledtoendthefiction.“I’mnotan
Earthman,Pola.I’manarchaeologistfromtheSirianSector.”Sheturnedonhimquickly,herfacewhiteinthemoonlight.Forthespaceofa
slowcounttotenshesaidnothing.“Thenyououtfacedthesoldiersbecauseyouweresafe,afterall,andknewit.AndIthought—Ishouldhaveknown.”Therewasanoutragedbitternessabouther.“Ihumblybegyourpardon,sir,if
atanytimetoday,inmyignorance,Iaffectedanydisrespectfulfamiliaritywithyou—”“Pola,” he cried angrily, “what’s thematter?What if I’mnot anEarthman?
HowdoesthatmakemedifferentfromwhatIseemedtoyoutobefiveminutesago?”“Youmighthavetoldme,sir.”“I’mnotaskingyoutocallme‘sir.’Don’tbeliketherestofthem,willyou?”“Like the rest ofwhom, sir?The rest of thedisgusting animals that liveon
Earth?...Ioweyouahundredcredits.”“Forgetit,”saidArvardandisgustedly.“Icannotfollowthatorder.Ifyou’llgivemeyouraddress,Iwillsendyoua
moneyorderfortheamounttomorrow.”Arvardan was suddenly brutal. “You owe me much more than a hundred
credits.”Polabitherlipandsaidinloweredtones,“Itistheonlypartofmygreatdebt,
sir,thatIcanrepay.Youraddress?”“StateHouse,”heflungatheracrosshisshoulder.Hewaslostinthenight.AndPolafoundherselfweeping!
ShektmetPolaatthedoorofhisoffice.“He’sback,”hesaid.“Alittlethinmanbroughthim.”“Good!”Shewashavingdifficultyspeaking.“Heaskedfortwohundredcredits.Igaveittohim.”
“Hewastoaskforonehundred,butnevermind.”She brushed past her father.He saidwistfully, “Iwas terriblyworried. The
commotions in the neighborhood—I dared not ask; I might have endangeredyou.”“It’sallright.Nothing’shappened....Letmesleepheretonight,Father.”Butnotallherwearinesscouldmakehersleep,forsomethinghadhappened.
Shehadmetaman,andhewasanOutsider.Butshehadhisaddress.Shehadhisaddress.
10
InterpretationofEvents
Theypresentedacompletecontrast,thesetwoEarthmen—onewiththegreatestsemblanceofpoweronEarth,andonewiththegreatestreality.Thus the High Minister was the most important Earthman on Earth, the
recognizedruleroftheplanetbydirectanddefinitedecreeoftheEmperorofalltheGalaxy—subject, of course, to theordersof theEmperor’sProcurator.HisSecretary seemed no one at all, really—merely a member of the Society ofAncients, appointed, theoretically,by theHighMinister to takecareof certainunspecifieddetails,anddismissable,theoretically,atwill.TheHighMinisterwasknown to all theEarth andwas lookedup to as the
supremearbiteronmattersofCustom.Itwashewhoannouncedtheexemptionsto the Sixty and it was he who judged the breakers of ritual, the defiers ofrationingandofproductionschedules,theinvadersofrestrictedterritoryandsoon.TheSecretary,ontheotherhand,wasknowntonobody,notevenbyname,excepttotheSocietyofAncientsand,ofcourse,totheHighMinisterhimself.TheHighMinisterhadacommandoflanguageandmadefrequentspeechesto
thepeople, speechesofhighemotionalcontentandcopious flowofsentiment.He had fair hair, worn long, and a delicate and patrician countenance. TheSecretary, snub-nosed andwry-faced, preferred a short word to a long one, agrunttoaword,andsilencetoagrunt—atleastinpublic.It was the HighMinister, of course, who had the semblance of power; the
Secretarywhohadthereality.AndintheprivacyoftheHighMinister’soffice
thatcircumstancewasquiteplain.For the High Minister was pettishly puzzled and the Secretary coolly
indifferent.“What I don’t see,” said the HighMinister, “is the connection of all these
reports you bringme.Reports, reports!”He lifted an arm above his head andstruckviciouslyatanimaginaryheapofpaper.“Idon’thavethetimeforthem.”“Exactly,” said the Secretary coldly. “It is why you hire me. I read them,
digestthem,transmitthem.”“Well, goodBalkis, about your business, then.Andquickly, since these are
minormatters.”“Minor?YourExcellencymayloseagreatdealsomedayifyourjudgmentis
notsharpened....Letusseewhatthesereportsmean,andIshallthenaskyouifyoustillconsiderthemminor.Firstwehavetheoriginalreport,nowsevendaysold,fromShekt’sunderling,anditisthatwhichfirstputmeonthetrail.”“Whattrail?”Balkis’s smile was faintly bitter. “May I recall to Your Excellency certain
importantprojectswhichhavebeennurturedhereonEarthforseveralyears.”“Ssh!”theHighMinister,insuddenlossofdignity,couldnotforbearlooking
abouthastily.“YourExcellency,itisnotnervousnessbutconfidencethatwillwinforus....
You know further that the success of this project has depended upon thejudicioususeofShekt’slittletoy,theSynapsifier.Untilnow,atleastasfarasweknow, it has been utilized under our direction only, and for definite purposes.Andnow,withoutwarning,ShekthasSynapsifiedanunknownman,incompleteviolationofourorders.”“This,”saidtheHighMinister,“isasimplematter.DisciplineShekt,takethe
treatedmanintocustody,andendthematter.”“No,no.Youarefartoostraightforward,YourExcellency.Youmissthepoint.
It isnotwhatShekthasdone,butwhyhehasdoneso.Notethat thereexistsacoincidence about the matter, one of a considerable series of subsequentcoincidences.TheProcuratorofEarthhadvisitedShektthatsameday,andShekthimself reported to us, in loyal and trustworthy fashion, all that had passedbetween them. Ennius had wanted the Synapsifier for Imperial use. Hemadepromise,itseems,ofgreathelpandgraciousassistancefromtheEmperor.”“Hmm,”saidtheHighMinister.“Youareintrigued?Acompromisesuchasthatseemsattractiveascompared
tothedangersattendingourpresentcourse?...Doyourememberthepromisesoffoodtousduringthefaminefiveyearsago?Doyou?ShipmentswererefusedbecausewelackedImperialcredits,andEarth-manufacturedproductswouldnot
beaccepted,asbeingradioactivelycontaminated.Wasthereafreegiftoffoodaspromised?Wasthereevenaloan?Ahundredthousanddiedofstarvation.Don’tputyourtrustinOutsiderpromises.“But that does notmatter.What does is that Shektmade a great display of
loyalty.Surelywecouldneverdoubthimagain.Withcompoundedcertainty,wecouldnotsuspecthimoftreasonthatveryday.Yetsoitcametopass.”“Youmeaninthisunauthorizedexperiment,Balkis?”“Ido,YourExcellency.Whowas theman treated?Wehavephotographsof
himand,withthehelpofShekt’stechnician,retinalpatterns.AcheckwiththePlanetaryRegistry shows no record of him.The conclusionmust therefore bereachedthatheisnoEarthman,butanOutsider.Furthermore,Shektmusthavebeen aware of it, since a registration card cannot be forged or transferred, ifcheckedwithretinalpatterns.So,insimplefashion,theunalterablefactsleadustotheconclusionthatShekthasSynapsified,knowingly,anOutsider.Andwhy?...“The answer to that may be disturbingly simple. Shekt is not an ideal
instrument for our purposes. In his youth he was an Assimilationist; he evenonce stood for election to theWashennCouncil on a platform of conciliationwiththeEmpire.Hewasdefeated,bytheway.”TheHighMinisterinterrupted.“Ididn’tknowthat.”“Thathewasdefeated?”“No, thathe ran.Whywasn’t I informedof this?Shekt isaverydangerous
maninthepositionhenowholds.”Balkis smiled softlyand tolerantly. “Shekt invented theSynapsifier and still
represents theoneman trulyexperienced in itsoperation.Hehas alwaysbeenwatched,andwillnowbewatchedmorecloselythanever.Donotforgetthatatraitorwithin our ranks, known tous, can domore harm to the enemy than aloyalmancandogoodtous.“Now, let us continue to deal with the facts. Shekt has Synapsified an
Outsider.Why?ThereisonlyonereasonwhyaSynapsifiercanpossiblybeused—to improve a mind. And why that? Because only so can the minds of ourscientists, already improvedbySynapsification,beovertaken.Eh?ThismeansthattheEmpirehasatleastafaintsuspicionofwhatisgoingonuponEarth.Isthatminor,YourExcellency?”Therewas a scattereddewon theHighMinister’s forehead. “Doyou really
thinkso?”“The facts are a jigsaw puzzle that can fit only one way. The Outsider so
treatedwas aman of undistinguished, even contemptible, appearance.A goodstroke, too,sinceabaldandfatoldmancanstillbe theEmpire’smostskilled
espionageagent.Ohyes.Yes.Whoelsecouldbe trustedonamissionsuchasthis? . . . But we have followed this stranger, whose alias, by the way, isSchwartz,asfaraswecan.Letustakethissecondfileofreports.”The High Minister cast an eye upon them. “The ones concerning Bel
Arvardan?”“Dr. Bel Arvardan,” assented Balkis, “eminent archaeologist of the gallant
SirianSector,thoseworldsofbraveandchivalrousbigots.”Hespatthelastout.Then, “Well, nevermind. In any case, we have here a queermirror image toSchwartz,analmostpoeticcontrast.Heisnotunknown,but,instead,afamousfigure.Heisnotasecretintruder,butonewhocomesfloatingonatidalwaveofpublicity. We are warned of him not by an obscure technician, but by theProcuratorofEarthhimself.”“Doyouthinkthereisaconnection,Balkis?”“YourExcellencymaysupposeitpossiblethatonemaybedesignedtodistract
ourattentionfromtheother.Orelse,sincetherulingclassesoftheEmpireareskilledenoughinintrigue,wehaveanexampleoftwomethodsofcamouflage.InthecaseofSchwartz,thelightsareputout.InthecaseofArvardan,thelightsare flashed in our eyes. In neither case arewe intended to see anything? . . .Come,ofwhatdidEnniuswarnusconcerningArvardan?”TheHighMinisterrubbedhisnose thoughtfully.“Arvardan,hesaid,wason
anarchaeologicalexpeditionunderImperialsponsorshipandwishedtoentertheForbiddenAreasforscientificpurposes.Nosacrilege,hesaid,wasintended,andifwecouldstophimingentlefashion,hewouldbackouractiontotheImperialCouncil.Somethinglikethat.”“SothenwewillwatchArvardanclosely,butforwhatpurpose?Why,tosee
thathemakesnounauthorizedentryintotheForbiddenAreas.Here’stheheadof an archaeological expedition without men, ships, or equipment. Here’s anOutsiderwhodoesnotremainatEverest,wherehebelongs,butwandersaboutEarth, for some reason—and goes to Chica first. And how is our attentiondistracted from all thesemost curious and suspicious circumstances?Why, byurgingustowatchcarefullysomethingthatisofnoimportance.“Butnotice,YourExcellency, thatSchwartzwaskepthidden in theInstitute
forNuclearResearchforsixdays.Andthenheescaped.Isn’tthatstrange?Thedoor, suddenly, wasn’t locked. The corridor, suddenly, wasn’t guarded. Whatqueernegligence.Andonwhatdaywas it thatheescaped?Why,on thesamedaythatArvardanarrivedatChica.Asecondpeculiarcoincidence.”“Youthink,then...”saidtheHighMinistertensely.“IthinkthatSchwartzistheOutsideragentonEarth,thatShektisthecontact
manwiththeAssimilationisttraitorsamongus,andthatArvardanisthecontact
man with the Empire. Observe the skill with which the meeting betweenSchwartzandArvardanwasarranged.Schwartzisallowedtoescape,andafteran appropriate interval his nurse—Shekt’s daughter, by a not-too-surprisingadditionalcoincidence—isoutafterhim.Ifanythingweretogowrongwiththeirsplit-second timetable, it is obvious that shewould have found him suddenly;that he would have become a poor, sick patient for the benefit of anyone’scuriosity; that hewould have been brought back to safety for another attemptlater.Infact,twoovercuriouscabbiesweretoldthathewasasickman,andthat,ironicallyenough,backfireduponthem.“Follow it closely, now. Schwartz and Arvardan meet first in a Foodomat.
They are, apparently, unaware of each other’s existence. It is a preliminarymeeting,designed,simply,toindicatethatallhasgonewellsofarandthatthenext step may be taken. . . . At least they don’t underestimate us, which isgratifying.“ThenSchwartzleaves;afewminuteslaterArvardanleavesandtheShektgirl
meets him. It is stop-watch timing. Together, after playing a little part for thebenefit of the aforementioned cabbies, they head for the Dunham departmentstore,andnowallthreearetogether.Whereelsebutadepartmentstore?Itisanidealmeetingplace.Ithasasecrecynocavein themountainscouldduplicate.Tooopentobesuspected.Toocrowdedtobestalked.Wonderful—wonderful—Igivecredittomyopponent.”TheHighMinisterwrithed inhischair.“Ifouropponentdeserves toomuch
credit,hewillwin.”“Impossible.Heisalreadydefeated.Andinthatrespectwemustgivecreditto
theexcellentNatter.”“AndwhoisNatter?”“An insignificantagentwhomustbeused to the limitafter this.Hisactions
yesterday couldnot havebeen improvedupon.His long-range assignment hasbeen towatch Shekt. For the purpose, he keeps a fruit stand across the streetfromtheInstitute.ForthelastweekhehasbeenspecificallyinstructedtowatchthedevelopmentoftheSchwartzaffair.“He was on hand when the man, known to him through photographs and
throughaglimpseatthetimehewasfirstbroughttotheInstitute,escaped.Heobserved every action, himself unobserved, and it is his report that detailsyesterday’sevents.Withincredibleintuition,hedecidedthattheentirepurposeofthe‘escape’wastoarrangeameetingwithArvardan.Hefelthimselftobenotinaposition,single-handed,toexploitthatmeeting,sohedecidedtopreventit.The cabbies, to whom the Shekt girl had described Schwartz as being sick,speculatedonRadiationFever.Natterseizedonthatwiththeswiftnessofgenius.
Assoonasheobservedthemeetinginthedepartmentstore,hereportedthecaseof fever and the local authorities at Chica were, praised be Earth, intelligentenoughtoco-operatequickly.“Thestorewasemptied,andthecamouflagewhichtheycountedupontohide
their conversation was stripped from them. They were alone and veryconspicuous in the store.Natterwent further.He approached them and talkedthem into allowing him to escort Schwartz back to the Institute.They agreed.Whatcould theydo? . . .So that thedayendedwithoutasinglewordpassingbetweenArvardanandSchwartz.“Nor did he commit the folly of arresting Schwartz. The two are still in
ignoranceoftheirdetectionandwillyetleadustobiggergame.“AndNatterwent further still.Henotified the Imperialgarrison, and that is
beyondpraise.ItpresentedArvardanwithasituationhecouldnotpossiblyhavecountedupon.Hemusteither revealhimself tobeanOutsideranddestroyhisusefulness, which apparently depends upon conducting himself upon Earth asthoughhewereanEarthman,orhemustkeepthefactsecretandsubjecthimselftowhatever unpleasantnessmight result. He took themore heroic alternative,andevenbrokethearmofanofficerof theEmpire, inhispassionforrealism.That,atleast,mustberememberedinhisfavor.“It is significant that his actions were as they were. Why should he, an
Outsider, exposehimself to theneuronicwhip for anEarthgirl if thematter atstakewasnotsupremelyimportant?”Both fists of theHighMinisterwere on the desk before him.He glowered
savagely,thelong,smoothlinesofhisfacecrumpledindistress.“Itiswellforyou,Balkis,fromsuchmeagerdetails,toconstructthespiderwebyoudo.Itisskillfully done, and I feel that it is as you say. Logic leaves us no otheralternative....Butitmeansthattheyaretooclose,Balkis.Theyaretooclose....Andtheywillhavenomercythistime.”Balkis shrugged. “They cannot be too close, or, in a case of such potential
destructivenessforalltheEmpire,theywouldhavealreadystruck....Andtheirtimeisrunningshort.ArvardanmuststillmeetwithSchwartzifanythingistobeaccomplished,andsoIcanpredictforyouthefuture.”“Doso—doso.”“Schwartzmust be sent away now and events allowed to quiet down from
theircurrenthighpitch.”“Butwherewillhebesent?”“Weknowthattoo.SchwartzwasbroughttotheInstitutebyaman,obviously
afarmer.DescriptionsreachedusfrombothShekt’stechnicianandfromNatter.We went through the registration data of every farmer within sixty miles of
Chica, and Natter identified one Arbin Maren as the man. The techniciansupported that decision independently.We investigated themanquietly, and itseemsthatheissupportingafather-in-law,ahelplesscripple,inevasionoftheSixty.”TheHighMinisterpounded the table. “Suchcasesareentirely too frequent,
Balkis.Thelawsmustbetightened—”“It isnotnow thepoint,YourExcellency.What is important is the fact that
sincethefarmerisviolatingthecustoms,hecanbeblackmailed.”“Oh...”“Shekt,andhisOutsiderallies,needatoolforjustsuchacase—thatis,where
Schwartzmust remain in seclusion for a longerperiod thanhecan safely stayhiddenintheInstitute.Thisfarmer,probablyhelplessandinnocent,isperfectforthepurpose.Well,hewillbewatched.Schwartzwillneverbeoutofsight....Now, eventually another meeting between him and Arvardan will have to bearranged, and that time we will be prepared. Do you understand everythingnow?”“Ido.”“Well,praiseEarth.ThenIwillleaveyounow.”And,withasardonicsmile,
headded,“Withyourpermission,ofcourse.”AndtheHighMinister,completelyoblivioustothesarcasm,wavedahandin
dismissal.TheSecretary,onhiswaytohisownsmalloffice,wasalone,and,whenalone, his thoughts sometimes escaped from beneath his firm control anddisportedthemselvesinthesecrecyofhismind.TheyconcernedthemselvesverylittlewithDr.Shekt,Schwartz,Arvardan—
leastofallwiththeHighMinister.Insteadtherewasthepictureofaplanet,Trantor—fromwhosehuge,planet-
widemetropolisalltheGalaxywasruled.Andtherewasthepictureofapalacewhose spires and sweeping arches he had never seen in reality; that no otherEarthmanhad ever seen.He thought of the invisible lines of power andglorythatsweptfromsuntosuningatheringstrings,ropes,andcablestothatcentralpalaceandtothatabstraction,theEmperor,whowas,afterall,merelyaman.Hismindheld that thought fixedly—the thought of that powerwhich could
alone bestow a divinity during life—concentrated in one who was merelyhuman.Merelyhuman!Likehimself!Hecouldbe—
11
TheMindThatChanged
The coming of the change was dim in Joseph Schwartz’s mind. Manytimes,intheabsolutequietofthenight—howmuchmorequietthenightswerenow; were they ever noisy and bright and clanging with the life of energeticmillions?—inthenewquiet,hetraceditback.Hewouldhavelikedtosaythathere,herewasthemoment.Therewasfirstthatold,shatteringdayoffearwhenhewasaloneinastrange
world—adayasmistyinhismindnowasthememoryofChicagoitself.Therewas the trip toChica, and its strange, complicated ending.He thought of thatoften.Something about a machine—pills he had taken. Days of recuperation and
then the escape, the wandering, the inexplicable events that last hour in thedepartmentstore.Hecouldn’tpossiblyrememberthatpartcorrectly.Yet,inthetwomonthssince,howcleareverythingwas,howunfaultedhismemory.Even then, things had begun to seem strange. He had been sensitive to
atmosphere.Theolddoctorandhisdaughterhadbeenuneasy,evenfrightened.Hadheknownthatthen?Orhaditjustbeenafugitiveimpression,strengthenedbythehindsightofhisthoughtssince?Butthen,inthedepartmentstore,justbeforethatbigmanhadreachedoutand
trappedhim—justbeforethat—hehadbecomeconsciousofthecomingsnatch.The warning had not been soon enough to save him, but it was a definiteindicationofthechange.
And,sincethen, theheadaches.No,notquiteheadaches.Throbbings,rather,as though somehidden dynamo in his brain had startedworking and,with itsunaccustomed action, was vibrating every bone of his skull. There had beennothinglikeitinChicago—supposinghisfantasyofChicagohadmeaning—orevenduringhisfirstfewdayshereinreality.HadtheydonesomethingtohimthatdayinChica?Themachine?Thepills—
thathadbeenanesthetic.Anoperation?Andhis thoughts, having reached thatpointforthehundredthtime,stoppedoncemore.HehadleftChicathedayafterhisabortiveescape,andnowthedayspassed
easily.There had been Grew in his wheel chair, repeating words and pointing, or
makingmotions,justasthegirl,Pola,haddonebeforehim.UntilonedayGrewstopped speaking nonsense and began talkingEnglish.Or no, he himself—he,Joseph Schwartz—had stopped speaking English and had begun talkingnonsense.Exceptthatitwasn’tnonsense,anymore.Itwassoeasy.Helearnedtoreadinfourdays.Hesurprisedhimself.Hehad
hadaphenomenalmemoryonce, inChicago,or it seemed tohim thathehad.Buthehadnotbeencapableofsuchfeats.YetGrewdidnotseemsurprised.Schwartzgaveitup.Then,when the autumn had become really golden, thingswere clear again,
andhewasoutinthefieldsworking.Itwasamazing,thewayhepickeditup.Thereitwasagain—henevermadeamistake.Therewerecomplicatedmachinesthathecouldrunwithouttroubleafterasingleexplanation.Hewaitedforthecoldweatheranditneverquitecame.Thewinterwasspent
inclearingground,infertilizing,inpreparingforthespringplantinginadozenways.HequestionedGrew,triedtoexplainwhatsnowwas,butthelatteronlystared
andsaid,“Frozenwaterfallinglikerain,eh?Oh!Thewordfor that issnow!IunderstanditdoesthatonotherplanetsbutnotonEarth.”Schwartzwatchedthetemperaturethereafterandfoundthatitscarcelyvaried
from day to day—and yet the days shortened, as would be expected from anortherlylocation,sayasnortherlyasChicago.HewonderedifhewasonEarth.HetriedreadingsomeofGrew’sbookfilmsbutgaveup.Peoplewerepeople
still, but the minutiae of daily life, the knowledge of which was taken forgranted, the historical and sociological allusions that meant nothing to him,forcedhimback.The puzzles continued. The uniformlywarm rains, the wild instructions he
receivedtoremainawayfromcertainregions.For instance, therehadbeentheeveningthathehadfinallybecometoointriguedbytheshininghorizon,theblue
glowtothesouth...Hehadslippedoffaftersupper,andwhennotamilehadpassed, thealmost
noiseless whir of the biwheel engine came up behind him and Arbin’s angryshoutrangoutintheeveningair.Hehadstoppedandhadbeentakenback.Arbinhadpacedbackandforthbeforehimandhadsaid,“Youmuststayaway
fromanywherethatitshinesatnight.”Schwartzhadaskedmildly,“Why?”Andtheanswercamewithbitingincision,“Becauseit isforbidden.”A long
pause,then,“Youreallydon’tknowwhatit’slikeoutthere,Schwartz?”Schwartzspreadhishands.Arbinsaid,“Wheredoyoucomefrom?Areyouan—anOutsider?”“What’sanOutsider?”Arbinshruggedandleft.ButthatnighthadhadagreatimportanceforSchwartz,foritwasduringthat
shortmiletowardtheshiningnessthatthestrangenessinhismindhadcoalescedintotheMindTouch.Itwaswhathecalledit,andtheclosesthehadcome,eitherthenorthereafter,todescribingit.He had been alone in the darkling purple. His own footsteps against the
springy pavement were muted. He hadn’t seen anybody. He hadn’t heardanybody.Hehadn’ttouchedanything.Notexactly...Ithadbeensomething likeatouch,butnotanywhereonhis
body. It was in his mind. . . . Not exactly a touch, but a presence—asomethingnesstherelikeavelvetytickle.Thentherehadbeentwo—twotouches,distinct,apart.Andthesecond—how
couldhetellthemapart?—hadgrownlouder(no,thatwasn’ttherightword);ithadgrowndistincter,moredefinite.AndthenheknewitwasArbin.Heknewitfiveminutes,at least,beforehe
caughtthesoundofthebiwheel,tenminutesbeforehelaideyesonArbin.Thereafteritoccurredagainandagainwithincreasingfrequency.ItbegantodawnonhimthathealwaysknewwhenArbin,Loa,orGrewwas
withinahundredfeetofhimself,evenwhenhehadnoreasonforknowing,evenwhenhehadeveryreasontosupposetheopposite.Itwasahardthingtotakeforgranted,yetitbegantoseemsonatural.Heexperimented,andfoundthatheknewexactlywhereanyofthemwere,at
anytime.Hecoulddistinguishbetweenthem,fortheMindTouchdifferedfrompersontoperson.Notoncehadhethenervetomentionittotheothers.Andsometimeshewouldwonderwhat that firstMindTouchon theroad to
theShiningnesshadbeen.IthadbeenneitherArbin,Loa,norGrew.Well?Diditmakeadifference?
It did later. He had come across the Touch again, the same one, when hebroughtinthecattleoneevening.HecametoArbinthenandsaid:“WhataboutthatpatchofwoodspasttheSouthHills,Arbin?”“Nothingaboutit,”wasthegruffanswer.“It’sMinisterialGround.”“What’sthat?”Arbin seemed annoyed. “It’s of no importance to you, is it? They call it
MinisterialGroundbecauseitisthepropertyoftheHighMinister.”“Whyisn’titcultivated?”“It’snotintendedforthat.”Arbin’svoicewasshocked.“ItwasagreatCenter.
Inancientdays.Itisverysacredandmustnotbedisturbed.Look,Schwartz,ifyouwanttoremainheresafely,curbyourcuriosityandtendtoyourjob.”“Butifit’ssosacred,thennobodycanlivethere?”“Exactly.You’reright.”“Areyousure?”“I’msure....Andyou’renottotrespass.Itwillmeantheendforyou.”“Iwon’t.”Schwartzwalkedaway,wonderingandoddlyuneasy.Itwasfromthatwooded
ground that the Mind Touch came, quite powerfully, and now somethingadditional had been added to the sensation. It was an unfriendly Touch, athreateningTouch.Why?Why?And still he dared not speak. They would not have believed him, and
somethingunpleasantwouldhappentohimasaconsequence.Heknewthattoo.Heknewtoomuch,infact.Hewas younger these days, also.Not somuch in the physical sense, to be
sure.Hewas thinner inhisstomachandbroader inhisshoulders.Hismuscleswere harder and springier and his digestionwas better. Thatwas the result ofworkintheopen.Butitwassomethingelsehewaschieflyconsciousof.Itwashiswayofthinking.Oldmentend toforgetwhat thoughtwas like in theiryouth; theyforget the
quicknessofthementaljump,thedaringoftheyouthfulintuition,theagilityofthe fresh insight. They become accustomed to the more plodding varieties ofreason, and because this is more than made up by the accumulation ofexperience,oldmenthinkthemselveswiserthantheyoung.ButtoSchwartzexperienceremained,anditwaswithasharpdelightthathe
foundhecouldunderstandthingsatabound,thathegraduallyprogressedfromfollowingArbin’sexplanations toanticipating them, to leapingonahead.Asaresult, he felt young in a far more subtle way than any amount of physicalexcellencecouldaccountfor.
Twomonthspassed,anditallcameout—overagameofchesswithGrewinthearbor.Chess,somehow,hadn’tchanged,exceptforthenamesofthepieces.Itwasas
herememberedit,andthereforeitwasalwaysacomforttohim.Atleast,inthisonerespect,hispoormemorydidnotplayhimfalse.Grewtoldhimofvariationsofchess.Therewasfour-handedchess,inwhich
eachplayerhadaboard, touchingeachotherat thecorners,witha fifthboardfillingthehollowinthecenterasacommonNoMan’sLand.Therewerethree-dimensionalchessgamesinwhicheighttransparentboardswereplacedoneovertheotherand inwhicheachpiecemovedin threedimensionsas theyformerlymovedintwo,andinwhichthenumberofpiecesandpawnsweredoubled,thewin coming only when a simultaneous check of both enemy kings occurred.There were even the popular varieties, in which the original position of thechessmenweredecidedbythrowsofthedice,orwherecertainsquaresconferredadvantagesordisadvantagestothepiecesuponthem,orwherenewpieceswithstrangepropertieswereintroduced.But chess itself, the original and unchangeable, was the same—and the
tournamentbetweenSchwartzandGrewhadcompleteditsfirstfiftygames.Schwartzhadabareknowledgeofthemoveswhenhebegan,sothathelost
constantly in the first games. But that had changed and losing games werebecoming rarer. Gradually Grew had grown slow and cautious, had taken tosmokinghispipeintoglowingembersintheintervalsbetweenmoves,andhadfinallysubsidedintorebelliousandquerulouslosses.GrewwasWhiteandhispawnwasalreadyonKing4.“Let’sgo,”heurgedsourly.Histeethwereclampedhardonhispipeandhis
eyeswerealreadysearchingtheboardtensely.Schwartztookhisseatinthegatheringtwilightandsighed.Thegameswere
reallybecominguninterestingasmoreandmorehebecameawareofthenatureof Grew’s moves before they could be made. It was as if Grew had a mistywindowinhisskull.Andthefactthathehimselfknew,almostinstinctively,theproper courseof chess play to takewas simplyof a piecewith the rest of hisproblem.They used a “night-board,” one that glowed in the darkness in a checkered
blue-and-orangeglimmer.Thepieces,ordinarylumpishfiguresofareddishclayin the sunlight, were metamorphosed at night. Half were bathed in a creamywhiteness that lent themthe lookofcoldandshiningporcelain,and theotherssparkedintinyglittersofred.The first moves were rapid. Schwartz’s own King’s Pawn met the enemy
advance head on.Grew brought out hisKing’sKnight toBishop 3; Schwartz
counteredwithQueen’sKnight toBishop3.Then theWhiteBishop leaped toQueen’sKnight5,andSchwartz’sQueen’sRook’sPawnslidaheadasquaretodriveitbacktoRook4.HethenadvancedhisotherKnighttoBishop3.Theshiningpiecesslidacrosstheboardwithaneeryvolitionoftheirownas
thegraspingfingerslostthemselvesinthenight.Schwartzwasfrightened.Hemightberevealinginsanity,buthehadtoknow.
Hesaidabruptly,“WhereamI?”Grew lookedup in themidstofadeliberatemoveofhisQueen’sKnight to
Bishop3andsaid,“What?”Schwartz didn’t know theword for “country,” or “nation.” He said, “What
worldisthis?”andmovedhisBishoptoKing2.“Earth,”was theshort reply,andGrewcastledwithgreatemphasis, first the
tall figurine thatwas theKing,moving, and then the lumpishRook topping itandrestingontheotherside.That was a thoroughly unsatisfactory answer. The word Grew had used
Schwartztranslatedinhismindas“Earth.”Butwhatwas“Earth”?Anyplanetis“Earth” to those that live on it. He advanced hisQueen’sKnight’s Pawn twospaces, and again Grew’s Bishop had to retreat, to Knight 3 this time. ThenSchwartzandGrew,each in turn,advanced theQueen’sPawnonespace,eachfreeinghisBishopforthebattleinthecenterthatwassoontobegin.Schwartzasked,ascalmlyandcasuallyashecould,“Whatyearisthis?”He
castled.Grew paused. He might have been startled. “What is it you’re harping on
today?Don’tyouwanttoplay?Ifitwillmakeyouhappy,thisis827.”Headdedsarcastically, “G.E.” He stared frowningly at the board, then slammed hisQueen’sKnighttoQueen5,whereitmadeitsfirstassault.Schwartz dodged quickly, moving his own Queen’s Knight to Rook 4 in
counterattack.Theskirmishwasoninearnest.Grew’sKnightseizedtheBishop,whichleapedupwardinabathofredfiretobedroppedwithasharpclickintotheboxwhere itmight lie,aburiedwarrior,until thenextgame.Andthen theconquering Knight fell instantly to Schwartz’s Queen. In a moment ofovercaution,Grew’sattackfalteredandhemovedhisremainingKnightbacktothehavenofKing1,whereitwasrelativelyuseless.Schwartz’sQueen’sKnightnowrepeatedthefirstexchange,takingtheBishopandfallingpreyinitsturntotheRook’sPawn.Nowanotherpause,andSchwartzaskedmildly,“What’sG.E.?”“What?” demanded Grew bad-humoredly. “Oh—you mean you’re still
wonderingwhat year this is?Of all the fool—Well, I keep forgettingyou justlearnedtotalkamonthorsoago.Butyou’reintelligent.Don’tyoureallyknow?
Well,it’s827oftheGalacticEra.GalacticEra:G.E.—see?It’s827yearssincethe foundation of the Galactic Empire; 827 years since the coronation ofFrankenntheFirst.Now,please,it’syourmove.”ButtheKnightthatSchwartzheldwasswallowedupinthegripofhishand
forthemoment.Hewasinafuryoffrustration.Hesaid,“Justoneminute,”andput the Knight down on Queen 2. “Do you recognize any of these names?America, Asia, the United States, Russia, Europe—” He groped foridentification.InthedarknessGrew’spipewasasullenredglowandthedimshadowofhim
hunched over the shining chessboard as if it had the less life of the two. Hemight have shakenhis head curtly, butSchwartz couldnot see that.Hedidn’thaveto.Hesensedtheother’snegationasclearlyasthoughaspeechhadbeendelivered.Schwartztriedagain.“DoyouknowwhereIcangetamap?”“Nomaps,”growledGrew,“unlessyouwanttoriskyourneckinChica.I’m
nogeographer.Ineverheardofthenamesyoumention,either.Whatarethey?People?”Risk his neck? Why that? Schwartz felt the coldness gather. Had he
committedacrime?DidGrewknowaboutit?Heaskeddoubtfully,“Thesunhasnineplanets,hasn’tit?”“Ten,”wastheuncompromisinganswer.Schwartzhesitated.Well, theymight havediscoveredanother thathehadn’t
heardabout.ButthenwhyshouldGrewhaveheardaboutit?Hecountedonhisfingers,andthen,“Howaboutthesixthplanet?Hasitgotrings?”GrewwasslowlymovingtheKing’sBishop’sPawnforwardtwosquares,and
Schwartzinstantlydidthesame.Grew said, “Saturn, youmean?Of course it has rings.”Hewas calculating
now.HehadthechoiceoftakingeithertheBishop’sPawnortheKing’sPawn,andtheconsequencesofthechoicewerenottooclear.“And is there an asteroid belt—little planets—betweenMars and Jupiter? I
meanbetweenthefourthandfifthplanets?”“Yes,” mumbled Grew. He was relighting his pipe and thinking feverishy.
Schwartzcaughtthatagonizeduncertaintyandwasannoyedatit.Tohim,nowthat he was sure of Earth’s identity, the chess game was less than a trifle.Questionsquiveredalongtheinnersurfaceofhisskull,andoneslippedout.“Yourbookfilmsarereal,then?Thereareotherworlds?Withpeople?”And now Grew looked up from the board, eyes probing uselessly in the
darkness.“Areyouserious?”“Arethere?”
“BytheGalaxy!Ibelieveyoureallydon’tknow.”Schwartzfelthumiliatedinhisignorance.“Please—”“Ofcoursethereareworlds.Millionsofthem!Everystaryouseehasworlds,
andmostofthoseyoudon’tsee.It’sallpartoftheEmpire.”Delicately, inside, Schwartz felt the faint echo of each of Grew’s intense
words as they sparked directly from mind to mind. Schwartz felt the mentalcontactsgrowingstrongerwiththedays.Maybe,soon,hecouldhearthosetinywordsinhismindevenwhenthepersonthinkingthemwasn’ttalking.And now, for the first time, he finally thought of an alternative to insanity.
Hadhepassedthroughtime,somehow?Sleptthrough,perhaps?Hesaidhuskily,“Howlongsinceit’sallhappened,Grew?Howlongsincethe
timewhentherewasonlyoneplanet?”“Whatdoyoumean?”Hewassuddenlycautious.“Areyouamemberofthe
Ancients?”“Ofthewhat?I’mnotamemberofanything,butwasn’tEarthoncetheonly
planet?...Well,wasn’tit?”“The Ancients say so,” said Grew grimly, “but who knows? Who really
knows? The worlds up there have been existing all history long as far as Iknow.”“Buthowlongisthat?”“Thousandsofyears,Isuppose.Fiftythousand,ahundred—Ican’tsay.”Thousandsofyears!Schwartzfeltagurgleinhisthroatandpresseditdownin
panic.Allthatbetweentwosteps?Abreath,amoment,aflickeroftime—andhehadjumpedthousandsofyears?Hefelthimselfshrinkingbacktoamnesia.Hisidentification of the Solar System must have been the result of imperfectmemoriespenetratingthemist.But now Grew was making his next move—he was taking the other’s
Bishop’sPawn,anditwasalmostmechanicallythatSchwartznotedmentallythefact that itwas thewrongchoice.Movefitted tomovenowwithnoconsciouseffort. His King’s Rook swooped forward to take the foremost of the now-doubledWhitePawns.White’sKnightadvancedagaintoBishop3.Schwartz’sBishop moved to Knight 2, freeing itself for action. Grew followed suit bymovinghisownBishoptoQueen2.Schwartz paused before launching the final attack. He said, “Earth is boss,
isn’tit?”“Bossofwhat?”“OftheEmp—”ButGrewlookedupwitharoaratwhichthechessmenquivered.“Listen,you,
I’mtiredofyourquestions.Areyouacompletefool?DoesEarthlookasifit’s
bossofanything?”TherewasasmoothwhirasGrew’swheelchaircircledthetable.Schwartzfeltgraspingfingersonhisarm.“Look! Look there!” Grew’s voice was a whispered rasp. “You see the
horizon?Youseeitshine?”“Yes.”“ThatisEarth—allEarth.Excepthereandthere,whereafewpatcheslikethis
oneexist.”“Idon’tunderstand.”“Earth’s crust is radioactive. The soil glows, always glowed, will glow
forever.Nothingcangrow.Noonecanlive—Youreallydidn’tknowthat?WhydoyousupposewehavetheSixty?”Theparalytic subsided.Hecircledhischairabout the tableagain.“It’syour
move.”The Sixty! Again a Mind Touch with an indefinable aura of menace.
Schwartz’schesspiecesplayed themselves,whilehewonderedabout itwithatight-pressed heart.HisKing’s Pawn took the opposingBishop’s Pawn.GrewmovedhisKnight toQueen4 andSchwartz’sRook side-stepped the attack toKnight4.AgainGrew’sKnight attacked,moving toBishop3, andSchwartz’sRookavoidedtheissueagaintoKnight5.ButnowGrew’sKing’sRook’sPawnadvancedonetimoroussquareandSchwartz’sRookslashedforward.IttooktheKnight’sPawn,checkingtheenemyKing.Grew’sKingpromptlytooktheRook,but Schwartz’s Queen plugged the hole instantly, moving to Knight 4 andchecking.Grew’sKingscurriedtoRook1,andSchwartzbroughtuphisKnight,placing itonKing4.GrewmovedhisQueen toKing2 ina strongattempt tomobilizehisdefenses,andSchwartzcounteredbymarchinghisQueenforwardtwosquarestoKnight6,sothatthefightwasnowinclosequarters.Grewhadnochoice;hemovedhisQueentoKnight2,andthetwofemalemajestieswerenowfacetoface.Schwartz’sKnightpressedhome,takingtheopposingKnightonBishop6,andwhenthenow-attackedWhiteBishopmovedquicklytoBishop3, the Knight followed to Queen 5. Grew hesitated for slow minutes, thenadvancedhisoutflankedQueenupthelongdiagonaltotakeSchwartz’sBishop.Thenhepausedanddrewarelievedbreath.HisslyopponenthadaRookin
dangerwithacheckintheoffingandhisownQueenreadytowreakhavoc.AndhewasaheadaRooktoaPawn.“Yourmove,”hesaidwithsatisfaction.Schwartzsaidfinally,“What—whatistheSixty?”There was a sharp unfriendliness to Grew’s voice. “Why do you ask that?
Whatareyouafter?”“Please,”humbly.Hehadlittlespiritleftinhim.“Iamamanwithnoharmin
me. I don’t knowwho I amorwhat happened tome.Maybe I’m an amnesiacase.”“Verylikely,”wasthecontemptuousreply.“AreyouescapingfromtheSixty?
Answertruthfully.”“ButItellyouIdon’tknowwhattheSixtyis!”It carried conviction. Therewas a long silence. To Schwartz, Grew’sMind
Touchwasominous,buthecouldnot,quite,makeoutwords.Grew said slowly, “The Sixty is your sixtieth year. Earth supports twenty
millionpeople,nomore.Tolive,youmustproduce.Ifyoucannotproduce,youcannotlive.PastSixty—youcannotproduce.”“Andso...”Schwartz’smouthremainedopen.“You’reputaway.Itdoesn’thurt.”“You’rekilled?”“It’snotmurder,”stiffly.“Itmustbethatway.Otherworldswon’ttakeus,and
wemustmakeroomforthechildrensomeway.Theoldergenerationmustmakeroomfortheyounger.”“Supposeyoudon’ttellthemyou’resixty?”“Why shouldn’t you?Life after sixty is no joke. . . .And there’s aCensus
every tenyears to catch anyonewho is foolish enough to try to live.Besides,theyhaveyourageonrecord.”“Notmine.”Thewords slippedout.Schwartz couldn’t stop them. “Besides,
I’monlyfifty—nextbirthday.”“Itdoesn’tmatter.Theycancheckbyyourbone structure.Don’tyouknow
that?There’snowayofmaskingit.They’llgetmenexttime....Say,it’syourmove.”Schwartzdisregardedtheurging.“Youmeanthey’ll—”“Sure,I’monlyfifty-five,butlookatmylegs.Ican’twork,canI?Thereare
threeofusregisteredinourfamily,andourquotaisadjustedonabasisofthreeworkers.WhenIhadthestrokeIshouldhavebeenreported,andthenthequotawouldhavebeenreduced.ButIwouldhavegottenaprematureSixty,andArbinandLoawouldn’tdoit.They’refools,becauseithasmeanthardworkforthem—tillyoucamealong.Andthey’llgetmenextyear,anyway....Yourmove.”“IsnextyeartheCensus?”“That’sright....Yourmove.”“Wait!”urgently.“Iseveryoneputawayaftersixty?Noexceptionsatall?”“Notforyouandme.TheHighMinisterlivesafulllife,andmembersofthe
Society ofAncients; certain scientists or those performing somegreat service.Notmanyqualify.Maybeadozenayear....It’syourmove!”“Whodecideswhoqualifies?”
“TheHighMinister,ofcourse.Areyoumoving?”But Schwartz stood up. “Never mind. It’s checkmate in five moves. My
QueenisgoingtotakeyourPawntocheckyou;you’vegottomovetoKnight1;IbringuptheKnighttocheckyouatKing2;youmustmovetoBishop2;myQueen checks you atKing6; youmustmove toKnight 2;myQueengoes toKnight6,andwhenyou’rethenforcedtoRook1,myQueenmatesyouatRook6.“Goodgame,”headdedautomatically.Grewstaredlongattheboard,then,withacry,dasheditfromthetable.The
gleamingpiecesrolleddejectedlyaboutonthelawn.“Youandyourdamneddistractingchatter,”yelledGrew.But Schwartz was conscious of nothing. Nothing except the overwhelming
necessityofescapingtheSixty.ForthoughBrowningsaid:
Growoldalongwithme!Thebestisyettobe...
thatwasinanEarthofteemingbillionsandofunlimitedfood.ThebestthatwasnowtobewastheSixty—anddeath.Schwartzwassixty-two.Sixty-two...
12
TheMindThatKilled
Itworkedoutsoneatly inSchwartz’smethodicalmind.Sincehedidnotwant to die, hewould have to leave the farm. If he stayedwhere hewas, theCensuswouldcome,andwithit,death.Leavethefarm,then.Butwherewouldhego?Therewas the—whatwas it, a hospital?—inChica.Theyhad taken care of
himbefore.Andwhy?Becausehehadbeenamedical“case.”Butwasn’thestilla case?And he could talk now; he could give them the symptoms,which hecouldn’tbefore.HecouldeventellthemabouttheMindTouch.OrdideveryonehavetheMindTouch?Wasthereanywayhecouldtell?...
Noneoftheothershadit.NotArbinorLoaorGrew.Heknewthat.Theyhadnowayoftellingwherehewasunlesstheysaworheardhim.Why,hecouldn’tbeatGrewinchessifGrewcould—Wait,now,chesswasapopulargame.Anditcouldn’tbeplayedifpeoplehad
theMindTouch.Notreally.Sothatmadehimapeculiarity—apsychologicalspecimen.Itmightnotbea
particularlygaylife,beingaspecimen,butitwouldkeephimalive.Andsupposeoneconsideredthenewpossibilitythathadjustarisen.Suppose
hewerenotanamnesiacbutamanwhohadstumbledthroughtime.Why,then,inadditiontotheMindTouch,hewasamanfromthepast.Hewasahistoricalspecimen,anarchaeologicalspecimen;theycouldn’tkillhim.Iftheybelievedhim.
Hmm,iftheybelievedhim.Thatdoctorwouldbelieve.Hehadneededa shave thatmorningArbin took
himtoChica.Herememberedthatverywell.Afterthathishairnevergrew,sotheymusthavedonesomethingtohim.Thatmeantthatthedoctorknewthathe—he,Schwartz—hadhadhaironhis face.Wouldn’t thatbe significant?GrewandArbinnevershaved.Grewhadoncetoldhimthatonlyanimalshadhairontheirface.Sohehadtogettothedoctor.Whatwashisname?Shekt?...Shekt,thatwasright.
But he knew so little of this horrible world. To leave by night or cross-countrywouldhaveentangledhim inmysteries,wouldhaveplungedhim intoradioactivedangerpocketsofwhichheknewnothing.So,withtheboldnessofonewithnochoice,hestruckoutuponthehighwayintheearlyafternoon.Theywouldn’tbeexpectinghimbackbeforesuppertime,andbythattimehe
wouldbewellaway.TheywouldhavenoMindTouchtomiss.For the first half hour he experienced a feeling of elation, the first such
sensationhehadhadsinceallthishadstarted.Hewasfinallydoingsomething;hewasmakinganattempt to fightbackathis environment.Somethingwithapurpose,andnotmereunreasoningflightasthattimeinChica.Ah,foranoldmanhewasn’tbad.He’dshowthem.And then he stopped—He stopped in the middle of the highway, because
somethingobtrudeditselfuponhisnotice,somethinghehadforgotten.TherewasthestrangeMindTouch,theunknownMindTouch;theonehehad
detected first when he had tried to reach the shining horizon and had beenstoppedbyArbin;theonethathadbeenwatchingfromtheMinisterialGround.Itwaswithhimnow—behindhimandwatching.He listened closely—or, at least, he did that which was the equivalent of
listeningwithregardtotheMindTouch.Itcamenocloser,but itwasfasteneduponhimself.Ithadwithinitwatchfulnessandenmity,butnotdesperation.Other thingsbecameclear.Thefollowermustnot losesightofhim,and the
followerwasarmed.Cautiously, almostautomatically,Schwartz turned,pickingapart thehorizon
witheagereyes.AndtheMindTouchchangedinstantly.Itbecamedoubtfulandcautious,dubiousastoitsownsafety,andthesuccess
ofitsownproject,whateverthatwas.Thefactofthefollower’sweaponsbecamemoreprominent,asthoughhewerespeculatinguponusingitiftrapped.
Schwartzknewthathehimselfwasunarmedandhelpless.Heknewthat thefollowerwouldkillhimratherthanallowhimtogetoutofsight;killhimatthefirstfalsemove....Andhesawnoone.SoSchwartzwalkedon,knowingthathisfollowerremainedcloseenoughto
killhim.Hisbackwasstiffintheanticipationofheknewnotwhat.Howdoesdeathfeel?...Howdoesdeathfeel?...Thethoughtjostledhimintimetohissteps,jouncedinhismind,jiggledinhissubconscious,untilitwentnearlypastendurance.Heheldontothefollower’sMindTouchastheonesalvation.Hewoulddetect
that instant’s increase in tension that would mean that a weapon was beingleveled,atriggerbeingpulled,acontactbeingclosed.Atthatinstanthewoulddrop,hewouldrun—Butwhy?IfitweretheSixty,whynotkillhimoutofhand?The time-slip theorywas fading out in hismind; amnesia again. Hewas a
criminal,perhaps—adangerousman,whomustbewatched.Maybehehadoncebeenahighofficial,whocouldnotbesimplykilledbutmustbetried.Perhapshisamnesiawasthemethodusedbyhisunconscioustoescapetherealizationofsometremendousguilt.And so now he was walking down an empty highway toward a doubtful
destination,withdeathwalkingathisback.Itwas growingdark, and the wind had a dying chill to it. As usual, itdidn’t seem right. Schwartz judged it to beDecember, and certainly sunset atfour-thirty was right for it, but the wind’s chill was not the iciness of amidwesternwinter.Schwartzhadlongdecidedthatthereasonfortheprevalentmildnesswasthat
the planet (Earth?) did not depend on the sun entirely for its heat. Theradioactive soil itself gave off heat, small by the square foot but huge by themillionsquaremiles.And in the darkness the follower’sMindTouch grewnearer. Still attentive,
and keyed up to a gamble. In the darkness, following was harder. He hadfollowedhimthatfirstnight—towardtheshiningness.Washeafraidtotaketheriskagain?“Hey!Hey,fella—”Itwasanasal,high-pitchedvoice.Schwartzfroze.Slowly, in onepiece, he turned around.The small figure comingup to him
waveditshand,butinthesunlesstimeofdayhecouldnotmakeitoutclearly.Itapproached,unhurrying.Hewaited.
“Hey, there. Glad to see you. It ain’t much fun beating it along the roadwithoutcompany.MindifIgoalongwithyou?”“Hello,” said Schwartz dully. It was the correct Mind Touch. It was the
follower.Andthefacewasfamiliar.Itbelongedtothathazytime,inChica.Andthenthefollowergaveeverysignofrecognition.“Say,Iknowyou.Sure!
...Don’tyourememberme?”Itwas impossible forSchwartz tosaywhetherunderordinaryconditions, in
another time,hemightormightnothavebelieved theother tobesincere.Butnowhowcouldheavoidseeingthat thin,raggedlayerofsyntheticrecognitionthatoverlay thedeepcurrentsof aTouch that toldhim—shoutedathim—thatthelittlemanwiththeverysharpeyeshadknownhimfromthestart?Knewhimandhadadeathweaponreadyforhim,ifnecessary.Schwartzshookhishead.“Sure,”insistedthelittleman.“Itwasinthedepartmentstore.Igotyouaway
from thatmob.”He seemed to double up in artificial laughter. “They thoughtyouhadRadiationFever.Youremember.”Schwartzdid,too,vaguely—dimly.Amanlikethis,forafewminutes,anda
crowd,whichhadfirststoppedthemandthenpartedforthem.“Yes,”he said. “Pleased tomeet you.” Itwasn’t verybrilliant conversation,
butSchwartzcoulddonobetter,andthelittlemandidnotseemtomind.“Myname’sNatter,”hesaid,shovingouta limphandat theother.“Ididn’t
getachancetotalkmuchwithyouthatfirsttime—overlookeditinthecrisisofthings,youmightsay—butI’msuregladtogetasecondchance....Let’shavethemitt.”“I’mSchwartz.”Andhetouchedpalmswiththeother,briefly.“Howcomeyou’rewalking?”askedNatter.“Goingsomewheres?”Schwartzshrugged.“Justwalking.”“Ahiker,huh?That’sformetoo.AllyearroundI’montheroad—putstheold
kiboshonthegrummlies.”“What?”“You know.Makes you full of life.You get to breathe that air and feel the
bloodpumping,hey?...Walkedtoofarthistime.Hatetogetbackafternightbymylonesome.Alwaysgladforthecompany.Whereyougoing?”Itwas the second timeNatter had asked the question, and theMindTouch
madeplaintheimportanceattachedtoit.Schwartzwonderedhowlonghecouldevadetheissue.Therewasaquestinganxietyinthefollower’smind.Andnoliewoulddo.Schwartzdidn’tknowenoughaboutthisnewworldtolie.Hesaid,“I’mgoingtothehospital.”“Thehospital?Whathospital?”
“IwastherewhenIwasinChica.”“Youmean the Institute.Ain’t that it? That’swhere I took you before, that
timeinthedepartmentstore,Imean.”Anxietyandincreasingtension.“ToDr.Shekt,”saidSchwartz.“Doyouknowhim?”“I’veheardofhim.He’sabigshot.Areyousick?”“No,butI’msupposedtoreportonceinawhile.”Didthatsoundreasonable?“Walking?”saidNatter.“Doesn’thesendacarforyou?”Apparentlyitdidnot
seemreasonable.Schwartzsaidnothingnow—aclammysilence.Natter, however, was buoyant. “Look here, chum, soon’s I pass a public
Communi-wave,I’llorderataxifromthecity.It’llmeetusontheroad.”“ACommuni-wave?”“Sure.Theyhave’emallalongthehighway.See,there’sone.”HetookastepawayfromSchwartz,andthelatterfoundhimselfinasudden
shriek.“Stop!Don’tmove.”Natter stopped. Therewas a queer coldness in his expression as he turned.
“What’seatingyou,bud?”Schwartz found the new language almost inadequate for the rapidity with
whichhehurledwordsattheother.“I’mtiredofthisacting.Iknowyou,andIknowwhatyou’regoingtodo.You’regoingtocallsomebodytotellthemI’mgoingtoDr.Shekt.They’llbereadyformeinthecityandthey’llsendoutacartopickmeup.Andyou’llkillmeifItrytogetaway.”Therewasa frownonNatter’s face.Hemuttered, “You’re sure righton the
gizzbowiththatlast—”ItwasnotintendedforSchwartz’sears,nordiditreachthem,butthewordsrestedlightlyontheverysurfaceofhisMindTouch.Aloudhe said, “Mister, you’ve gotme confused.You’re shoving a fast one
rightpastmynose.”Buthewasmakingroom,andhishandwasdriftingtowardhiship.And Schwartz lost control of himself. He waved his arms in a wild fury.
“Leavemealone,whydon’tyou?WhathaveIdonetoyou?...Goaway!Goaway!”Heendedinavoice-crackedshriek,hisforeheadridgedwithhateandfearof
thecreaturewhostalkedhimandwhosemindwassoalivewithenmity.Hisownemotions heaved and thrust at the Mind Touch, attempting to evade theclingingnessofit,riditselfofthebreathofit—And it was gone. Suddenly and completely gone. There had been the
momentary consciousness of overwhelming pain—not in himself, but in theother—thennothing.NoMindTouch.Ithaddroppedawaylikethegripofafistgrowinglaxanddead.
Natter was a crumpled smear on the darkening highway. Schwartz crepttowardhim.Natterwasalittleman,easytoturnover.Thelookofagonyonhisfacemighthavebeen stampedon, deeply, deeply.The lines remained, didnotrelax.Schwartzfeltfortheheartbeatanddidnotfindit.Hestraightenedinadelugeofself-horror.Hehadmurderedaman!Anthenadelugeofamazement—Withouttouchinghim!Hehadkilledthismanjustbyhatinghim,bystriking
somehowattheMindTouch.Whatotherpowersdidhehave?Hemadeaquickdecision.Hesearchedtheother’spocketsandfoundmoney.
Good!Hecouldusethat.Thenhedraggedthecorpseintothefieldsandletthehighgrasscoverit.Hewalkedonfortwohours.NootherMindTouchdisturbedhim.He slept in an open field that night, and the nextmorning, after two hours
more,reachedtheoutskirtsofChica.ChicawasonlyavillagetoSchwartz,andbycomparisonwiththeChicagohe
remembered,themotionofthepopulacewasstillthinandsporadic.Evenso,theMindToucheswereforthefirsttimenumerous.Theyamazedandconfusedhim.Somany!Somedrifting and diffuse; somepointed and intense.Therewere
men who passed with their minds popping in tiny explosions; others withnothinginsidetheirskullsbut,perhaps,agentleruminationonthebreakfastjustcompleted.At first Schwartz turned and jumped with every Touch that passed, taking
eachasapersonalcontact;butwithinthehourhelearnedtoignorethem.Hewashearingwordsnow,evenwhentheywerenotactuallymouthed.This
was something new, and he found himself listening. They were thin, eeryphrases, disconnected andwind-whipped; far off, far off . . . Andwith them,living, crawling emotion and other subtle things that cannot be described—sothatalltheworldwasapanoramaofboilinglifevisibletohimselfonly.Hefoundhecouldpenetratebuildingsashewalked,sendinghismind inas
thoughitweresomethingheheldonaleash,somethingthatcouldsuckitswayinto crannies invisible to the eye and bring out the bones of men’s innerthoughts.It was before a huge stone-fronted building that he halted, and considered.
They(whoevertheywere)wereafterhim.Hehadkilledthefollower,buttheremustbeothers—theothersthatthefollowerhadwantedtocall.Itmightbebestforhimtomakenomoveforafewdays,andhowtodothatbest?...Ajob?...Heprobed thebuildingbeforewhichhehad stopped. In therewasadistant
MindTouchthattohimmightmeanajob.Theywerelookingfortextileworkersinthere—andhehadoncebeenatailor.Hesteppedinside,wherehewaspromptlyignoredbyeveryone.Hetouched
someone’sshoulder.“WheredoIseeaboutajob,please?”“Throughthatdoor!”TheMindTouchthatreachedhimwasfullofannoyance
andsuspicion.Throughthedoor,andthenathin,point-chinfellowfiredquestionsathimand
fingeredtheclassifyingmachineontowhichhepunchedtheanswers.Schwartzstammeredhisliesandtruthswithequaluncertainty.But the personnel man began, at least, with a definite unconcern. The
questionswerefiredrapidly:“Age? . . .Fifty-two?Hmm.Stateofhealth? . . .Married?. . .Experience?. . .Workedwithtextiles?. . .Well,whatkind?. . .Thermoplastic?Elastomeric? . . .Whatdoyoumean,you thinkallkinds? . . .Whomdidyouworkwithlast?...Spellhisname....You’renotfromChica,areyou?...Whereareyourpapers?...You’llhavetobringthemhereifyouwantactiontaken....What’syourregistrationnumber?...”Schwartzwasbackingaway.Hehadn’tforeseenthisendwhenhehadbegun.
And the Mind Touch of the man before him was changing. It had becomesuspicious to the point of single-trackedness, and cautious too. There was asurfacelayerofsweetnessandgood-fellowshipthatwassoshallow,andwhichoverlayanimositysothinly,astobethemostdangerousfeatureofall.“Ithink,”saidSchwartznervously,“thatI’mnotsuitedforthisjob.”“No,no,comeback.”Andthemanbeckonedathim.“Wehavesomethingfor
you. Just let me look through the files a bit.” He was smiling, but hisMindTouchwasclearernowandevenmoreunfriendly.Hehadpunchedabuzzeronhisdesk—Schwartz,inasuddenpanic,rushedforthedoor.“Holdhim!”criedtheotherinstantly,dashingfrombehindhisdesk.SchwartzstruckattheMindTouch,lashingoutviolentlywithhisownmind,
and he heard a groan behind him. He looked quickly over his shoulder. Thepersonnelmanwasseatedonthefloor,facecontortedandtemplesburiedinhispalms. Another man bent over him; then, at an urgent gesture, headed forSchwartz.Schwartzwaitednomore.Hewasoutonthestreet,fullyawarenowthattheremustbeanalarmoutfor
himwith a complete descriptionmade public, and that the personnelman, atleast,hadrecognizedhim.Herananddoubledalongthestreetsblindly.Heattractedattention;moreofit
now,forthestreetswerefillingup—suspicion,suspicioneverywhere—suspicion
becauseheran—suspicionbecausehisclotheswerewrinkledandill-fitting—InthemultiplicityofMindTouchesandintheconfusionofhisownfearand
despair,hecouldnotidentifythetrueenemies,theonesinwhichtherewasnotonly suspicion but certainty, and so he hadn’t the slightest warning of theneuronicwhip.Therewasonlythatawfulpain,whichdescendedlikethewhistleofalashand
remainedlikethecrushofarock.Forsecondshecoasteddowntheslopeofthatdescentintoagonybeforedriftingintotheblack.
13
SpiderWebatWashenn
The grounds of theCollege of Ancients inWashenn are nothing if notsedate. Austerity is the key word, and there is something authentically graveabouttheclusteredknotsofnovicestakingtheireveningstrollamongthetreesof theQuadrangle—wherenonebutAncientsmight trespass.Occasionally thegreen-robed figure of a Senior Ancient might make its way across the lawn,receivingreverencesgraciously.And,onceinalongwhile,theHighMinisterhimselfmightappear.But not as now, at a half run, almost in a perspiration, disregarding the
respectfulraisingofhands,oblivioustothecautiousstaresthatfollowedhim,theblanklooksatoneanother,theslightlyraisedeyebrows.Heburst into theLegislativeHallby theprivateentranceandbroke into an
open run down the empty, step-ringing ramp. The door that he thundered atopenedatthefootpressureoftheonewithin,andtheHighMinisterentered.HisSecretaryscarcelylookedupfrombehindhissmall,plaindesk,wherehe
hunchedoveramidgetField-shieldedTelevisor,listeningintentlyandallowinghiseyestoroveoveraquireorsoofofficial-lookingcommunicationsthatpiledhighbeforehim.TheHighMinisterrappedsharplyonthedesk.“Whatisthis?Whatisgoing
on?”TheSecretary’seyesflickedcoldlyathim,and theTelevisorwasput toone
side.“Greetings,YourExcellency.”
“Greetme no greetings!” retorted theHighMinister impatiently. “Iwant toknowwhatisgoingon.”“Inasentence,ourmanhasescaped.”“You mean the man who was treated by Shekt with the Synapsifier—the
Outsider—thespy—theoneonthefarmoutsideChica—”It is uncertain how many qualifications the High Minister, in his anxiety,
might have rattled out had not the Secretary interrupted with an indifferent“Exactly.”“WhywasInotinformed?WhyamIneverinformed?”“Immediate action was necessary and you were engaged. I substituted,
therefore,tothebestofmyability.”“Yes,youarecarefulaboutmyengagementswhenyouwishtodowithoutme.
Now,I’llnothaveit.Iwillnotpermitmyselftobeby-passedandsidetracked.Iwillnot—”“We delay,” was the reply at ordinary speaking volume, and the High
Minister’shalfshoutfaded.Hecoughed,hovereduncertainlyatfurtherspeech,thensaidmildly:“Whatarethedetails,Balkis?”“Scarcelyany.Aftertwomonthsofpatientwaiting,withnothingtoshowfor
it,thismanSchwartzleft—wasfollowed—andwaslost.”“Howlost?”“Wearenot sure,but there isa further fact.Ouragent,Natter,missed three
reportingperiods lastnight.Hisalternates setoutafterhimalong thehighwaytoward Chica and found him at dawn. He was in a ditch at the side of thehighway—quitedead.”TheHighMinisterpaled.“TheOutsiderhadkilledhim?”“Presumably,thoughwecannotsaycertainly.Therewerenovisiblesignsof
violenceotherthanalookofagonyonthedeadface.Therewillbeanautopsy,ofcourse.Hemighthavediedofastrokejustatthatinconvenientmoment.”“Thatwouldbeanincrediblecoincidence.”“So I think,” was the cool response, “but if Schwartz killed him, it makes
subsequenteventspuzzling.Yousee,YourExcellency,itseemedquiteobviousfromourpreviousanalysisthatSchwartzwouldmakeforChicainordertoseeShekt,andNatterwasfounddeadonthehighwaybetweentheMarenfarmandChica.Wethereforesentoutanalarmtothatcitythreehoursagoandthemanwascaught.”“Schwartz?”incredulously.“Certainly.”“Whydidn’tyousaythatimmediately?”
Balkisshrugged.“YourExcellency,thereismoreimportantworktobedone.IsaidthatSchwartzwasinourhands.Well,hewascaughtquicklyandeasily,andthat factdoesnot seem tome to jibeverywellwith thedeathofNatter.HowcouldhebeatoncesocleverastodetectandkillNatter—amostcapableman—andsostupidastoenterChicatheverynextmorningandopenlyenterafactory,withoutdisguise,tofindajob?”“Isthatwhathedid?”“That’swhathedid....Therearetwopossiblethoughtsthatthisgivesriseto,
therefore.EitherhehasalreadytransmittedsuchinformationashehastoShektorArvardan,andhasnowlethimselfbecaughtinordertodivertoutattention,orelseotheragentsare involved,whomwehavenotdetectedandwhomhe isnowcovering.Ineithercase,wemustnotbeoverconfident.”“Idon’tknow,”saidtheHighMinisterhelplessly,hishandsomefacetwisted
intoanxiouslines.“Itgetstoodeepforme.”Balkissmiledwithmorethanatraceofcontemptandvolunteeredastatement.
“YouhaveanappointmentfourhoursfromnowwithProfessorBelArvardan.”“Ihave?Why?WhatamItosaytohim?Idon’twanttoseehim.”“Relax.Youmustseehim,YourExcellency.Itseemsobvioustomethatsince
thedateofcommencementofhis fictitiousexpedition isapproaching,hemustplay out the game by asking you for permission to investigate the ForbiddenAreas.Enniuswarnedushewould,andEnniusmustknowexactlythedetailsofthis comedy. I suppose that you are able to return him froth for froth in thismatterandtocounterpretensewithpretense.”TheHighMinisterbowedhishead.“Well,Ishalltry.”
BelArvardanarrivedingoodtime,andwasabletolookabouthim.Toaman well acquainted with the architectural triumphs of all the Galaxy, theCollegeofAncients could scarcely seemmore thanabroodingblockof steel-ribbedgranite,fashionedinanarchaicstyle.Toonewhowasanarchaeologistaswell,itmightsignify,initsgloomy,nearlysavageausterity,theproperhomeofagloomy, nearly savage way of life. Its very primitiveness marked the turningbackofeyestothefarpast.AndArvardan’sthoughtsslippedawayonceagain.Histwo-monthtourabout
Earth’swestern continents had proven not quite—amusing. That first day hadruinedthings.HefoundhimselfthinkingbacktothatdayatChica.Hewasinstantlyangrywithhimselfforthinkingaboutitagain.Shehadbeen
rude, egregiously ungrateful, a commonEarthgirl.Why should he feel guilty?Andyet...
HadhemadeallowancesforhershockatdiscoveringhimtobeanOutsider,likethatofficerwhohadinsultedherandwhosearrogantbrutalityhehadrepaidwith a broken arm?After all, how could he knowhowmuch she had alreadysufferedat thehandsofOutsiders?Andthentofindout, likethat,withoutanysofteningoftheblow,thathewasone.If he had beenmore patient . . .Why had he broken it off so brutally?He
didn’t even rememberhername. ItwasPola something.Strange!Hismemorywasordinarilybetterthanthat.Wasitanunconsciousefforttoforget?Well, that made sense. Forget! What was there to remember, anyway? An
Earthgirl.AcommonEarthgirl.Shewasanurse inahospital.Supposehe triedto locate thehospital. Ithad
beenjustavagueblotinthenightwhenhepartedfromher,butitmustbeintheneighborhoodofthatFoodomat.Hesnatchedatthethoughtandbrokeintoathousandangryfragments.Washe
mad?Whatwouldhehavegained?ShewasanEarthgirl.Pretty,sweet,somehowentic—AnEarthgirl!TheHighMinisterwasentering,andArvardanwasglad.Itmeantrelieffrom
thatdayinChica.But,deepinhismind,heknewthattheywouldreturn.They—thethoughts,thatis—alwaysdid.AsfortheHighMinister,hisrobewasnewandglisteninginitsfreshness.His
forehead showed no trace of haste or doubt; perspiration might have been astrangertoit.Andtheconversationwasfriendly,indeed.Arvardanwasatpainstomention
thewell-wishingsofsomeofthegreatmenoftheEmpiretothepeopleofEarth.TheHighMinisterwasascarefultoexpressthethoroughgratificationthatmustbe felt by all Earth at the generosity and enlightenment of the ImperialGovernment.Arvardan expounded on the importance of archaeology to Imperial
philosophy, on its contribution to the great conclusion that all humans ofwhatever world of the Galaxy were brothers—and the High Minister agreedblandlyandpointedoutthatEarthhadlongheldsuchtobethecaseandcouldonlyhopethatthetimewouldshortlycomewhentherestoftheGalaxymightturntheoryintopractice.Arvardan smiled very shortly at that and said, “It is for that very purpose,
YourExcellency,thatIhaveapproachedyou.ThedifferencesbetweenEarthandsomeoftheImperialDominionsneighboringitrestlargely,perhaps,ondifferingwaysof thinking.Still,agooddealoffrictioncouldberemovedif itcouldbeshownthatEarthmenwerenotdifferent,racially,fromotherGalacticcitizens.”
“Andhowwouldyouproposetodothat,sir?”“Thatisnoteasytoexplaininaword.AsYourExcellencymayknow,thetwo
main currents of archaeological thinking are commonly called the MergerTheoryandtheRadiationTheory.”“Iamacquaintedwithalayman’sviewofboth.”“Good. Now the Merger Theory, of course, involves the notion that the
varioustypesofhumanity,evolvingindependently,haveintermarriedintheveryearly,scarcelydocumenteddaysofprimitivespacetravel.Aconceptionlikethatis necessary to account for the fact thatHumans are so alike one to the othernow.”“Yes,” commented the High Minister dryly, “and such a conception also
involves the necessity of having several hundred, or thousand, separatelyevolvedbeingsofamoreorlesshumantypesocloselyrelatedchemicallyandbiologicallythatintermarriageispossible.”“True,” repliedArvardanwith satisfaction.“Youhaveputyour fingeronan
impossiblyweak point.Yetmost archaeologists ignore it and adhere firmly totheMergerTheory,whichwould,ofcourse,implythepossibilitythatinisolatedportions of the Galaxy there might be subspecies of humanity who remaineddifferent,didn’tintermarry—”“YoumeanEarth,”commentedtheHighMinister.“Earthisconsideredanexample.TheRadiationTheory,ontheotherhand—”“Considersusalldescendantsofoneplanetarygroupofhumans.”“Exactly.”“My people,” said theHighMinister, “because of the evidence of our own
history,andofcertainwritingswhicharesacredtousandcannotbeexposedtotheviewofOutsiders,areof thebelief thatEarth itself is theoriginalhomeofhumanity.”“Andso Ibelieveaswell, and I askyourhelp toprove thispoint toall the
Galaxy.”“Youareoptimistic.Justwhatisinvolved?”“It is my conviction, Your Excellency, that many primitive artifacts and
architecturalremainsmaybelocatedinthoseareasofyourworldwhicharenow,unfortunately, masked by radioactivity. The age of the remains could beaccuratelycalculatedfromtheradioactivedecaypresentandcompared—”ButtheHighMinisterwasshakinghishead.“Thatisoutofthequestion.”“Why?”AndArvardanfrownedinthoroughamazement.“For one thing,” said the High Minister, reasoning mildly, “what do you
expecttoaccomplish?Ifyouproveyourpoint,eventothesatisfactionofalltheworlds,whatdoesitmatterthatamillionyearsagoallofyouwereEarthmen?
Afterall,abillionyearsagowewereallapes,yetwedonotadmitpresent-dayapesintotherelationship.”“Come,YourExcellency,theanalogyisunreasonable.”“Not at all, sir. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that Earthmen, in their long
isolation, have so changed from their emigrating cousins, especially under theinfluenceofradioactivity,asnowtoformadifferentrace?”Arvardanbitathislowerlipandansweredreluctantly,“Youarguewellonthe
sideofyourenemy.”“Because I ask myself what my enemy will say. So you will accomplish
nothing,sir,exceptperhapstofurtherexacerbatethehatredagainstus.”“But,”saidArvardan,“thereisstillthematteroftheinterestsofpurescience,
theadvanceofknowledge—”TheHighMinisternoddedgravely.“Iamtrulysorry tohave tostand in the
wayofthat.Ispeaknow,sir,asonegentlemanoftheEmpiretoanother.Imyselfwouldcheerfullyhelpyou,butmypeopleareanobstinateandstiff-neckedrace,who over centuries have withdrawn into themselves because of the—uh—lamentable attitudes toward them in parts of the Galaxy. They have certaintaboos,certainfixedCustoms—whichevenIcouldnotaffordtoviolate.”“Andtheradioactiveareas—”“Are one of the most important taboos. Even if I were to grant you
permission,andcertainlymyeveryimpulseistodoso,itwouldmerelyprovokeriotinganddisturbances,whichwouldnotonlyendangeryourlifeandthoseofthemembers of your expedition butwould, in the long run, bring down uponEarththedisciplinaryactionoftheEmpire.IwouldbetraymypositionandthetrustofmypeopleifIweretoallowthat.”“But I am willing to take all reasonable precautions. If you wish to send
observerswithme—Or,ofcourse,Icanoffer toconsultyoubeforepublishinganyresultsobtained.”TheHighMinister said, “You temptme, sir. It is an interestingproject.But
you overestimate my power, even if we leave the people themselves out ofconsideration.Iamnotanabsoluteruler.Infact,mypowerissharplylimited—andallmattersmustbesubmittedtotheconsiderationoftheSocietyofAncientsbeforefinaldecisionsarepossible.”Arvardanshookhishead.“This ismostunfortunate.TheProcuratorwarned
me of the difficulties, yet I was hoping that—When can you consult yourlegislature,YourExcellency?”“ThePresidiumof theSocietyofAncientswillmeet threedayshence. It is
beyondmypowertoaltertheagenda,soitmaybeafewdaysmorebeforethemattercanbediscussed.Sayaweek.”
Arvardannoddedabstractedly.“Well,itwillhavetodo....Bytheway,YourExcellency—”“Yes?”“ThereisascientistuponyourplanetwhomIwouldliketomeet.ADr.Shekt
atChica.Now, I’vebeen inChica,but leftbefore Icoulddomuchandwouldliketorepairtheomission.SinceIamsureheisabusyman,IwonderifIcouldtroubleyouforaletterofintroduction?”TheHighMinisterhadstiffenedvisiblyandforseveralmomentssaidnothing.
Then,“MayIaskwhatitisyouwanttoseehimabout?”“Certainly. I have readof an instrumenthehasdeveloped,whichhe calls a
Synapsifier, I believe. It concerns the neuro-chemistry of the brain and couldhavesomethingveryinterestingtodowithanotherprojectofmine.Ihavebeendoingsomeworkontheclassificationofhumanityintoencephalographicgroups—brain-currenttypes,youunderstand.”“Umm...Ihaveheardvaguelyaboutthedevice.Iseemtorecallthatitwas
notasuccess.”“Well,maybenot,butheisanexpertinthefieldandcouldprobablybevery
helpfultome.”“I see. In that casea letterof introductionwillbeprepared immediately for
you.Ofcourse theremustbenomentionofyour intentionswith regard to theForbiddenAreas.”“That is understood, Your Excellency.” He rose. “I thank you for your
courtesyandyourkindattitudeandcanonlyhopethattheCouncilofAncientswillbeliberalwithrespecttomyproject.”TheSecretaryenteredafterArvardanleft.Hislipswerespreadinhischaracteristiccold,savagesmile.“Verygood,”hesaid.“Youhandledyourselfwell,YourExcellency.”TheHighMinisterlookedathimsomberlyandsaid,“Whatwasthatlastabout
Shekt?”“Youarepuzzled?Don’tbe.Allthingsareworkingoutwell.Younoticedhis
lack of heatwhenyouvetoed his project.Was that the response of a scientistwhose heart is set upon somethingwithdrawn from his grasp for no apparentreason?Orisit theresponseofonewhoisplayingapartandisrelievedtobewellridofit?“And againwe have a queer coincidence. Schwartz escapes andmakes his
waytoChica.TheverynextdayArvardanappearshereand,aftera lukewarmrigmaroleabouthisexpedition,mentionscasuallythatheisgoingtoChicatosee
Shekt.”“Butwhymentionit,Balkis?Itseemsfoolhardy.”“Becauseyou are straightforward.Put yourself in his position.He imagines
we suspect nothing. In such a case it is audacity thatwins.He’s going to seeShekt.Good!Hementions it frankly.Heevenasksfora letterof introduction.Whatbetterguaranteeofhonestandinnocentintentionscanhepresent?Andthatbrings up another point. Schwartz may have discovered that he was beingwatched.HemayhavekilledNatter.Buthehashadnotimetowarntheothers,orthiscomedycouldnothaveplayeditselfoutinjustthisfashion.”TheSecretary’seyeswerehalfliddedashespunhisspiderweb.“Thereisno
wayoftellinghowlongitwillbebeforeSchwartz’sabsencebecomessuspiciousfor them, but it is at least safe to allow sufficient time for Arvardan tomeetShekt.We’llcatchthemtogether;therewillbethatmuchlesstheycandeny.”“Howmuchtimedowehave?”demandedtheHighMinister.Balkis looked up thoughtfully. “The schedule is fluid, and ever since we
uncovered Shekt’s treason they’ve been on triple shift—and things areproceedingwell.Weawaitonlythemathematicalcomputationsforthenecessaryorbits.Whatholdsusup there is the inadequacyofourcomputers.Well . . . itmaybeonlyamatterofdaysnow.”“Days!”Itwassaidinatonequeerlycompoundedoftriumphandhorror.“Days!”repeatedtheSecretary.“Butremember—onebombeventwoseconds
beforezerotimewillbeenoughtostopus.Andevenafterwardtherewillbeaperiodoffromonetosixmonthswhenreprisalscanbetaken.Sowearenotyetentirelysafe.”Days! And then the most incredibly one-sided battle in the history of the
GalaxywouldbejoinedandEarthwouldattackalltheGalaxy.TheHighMinister’shandsweretremblinggently.
Arvardanwasseatedinastratoplaneagain.His thoughtsweresavageones. There seemed no reason to believe that the High Minister and hispsychopathic subject population would allow an official invasion of theradioactive areas. He was prepared for that. Somehow he wasn’t even sorryaboutit.Hecouldhaveputupabetterfight—ifhehadcaredmore.Asitwas,bytheGalaxy,therewouldbeillegalentry.Hewouldarmhisship
andfightitout,ifnecessary.Hewouldrather.Thebloodyfools!Whothedevildidtheythinktheywere?Yes, yes, he knew. They thought they were the original humans, the
inhabitantsoftheplanet—Theworstofitwasheknewthattheywereright.Well . . .Theshipwas takingoff.Hefelthimselfsinkingback into thesoft
cushionofhisseatandknewthatwithinthehourhe’dbeseeingChica.NotthathewaseagertoseeChica,hetoldhimself,buttheSynapsifierthing
could be important, and there was no use being on Earth if he didn’t takeadvantageofit.Hecertainlyneverintendedtoreturnonceheleft.Rathole!Enniuswasright.ThisDr.Shekt,however...Hefingeredhisletterofintroduction,heavywith
officialformality—Andthenhesatboltupright—ortriedto,strugglingbitterlyagainsttheforces
of inertia thatwerecompressinghimdown intohis seatas theEarthstill sankawayandtheblueoftheskywasdeepenedintoarichpurple.Herememberedthegirl’sname.ItwasPolaShekt.Nowwhyhadheforgotten?Hefeltangryandcheated.Hismindwasplotting
againsthim,holdingbackthelastnametillitwastoolate.But,deepunderneath,somethingwasrathergladofit.
14
SecondMeeting
In the two months that had elapsed from the day that Dr. Shekt’sSynapsifier had been used on Joseph Schwartz, the physicist had changedcompletely. Physically not so much, though perhaps he was a thought morestooped,ashadethinner.Itwashismanner—abstracted,fearful.Helivedinaninnercommunion,withdrawnfromevenhisclosestcolleagues,andfromwhichheemergedwithareluctancethatwasplaintotheblindest.OnlytoPolacouldheunburdenhimself,perhapsbecauseshe,too,hadbeen
strangelywithdrawnthosetwomonths.“They’rewatchingme,”hewouldsay.“Ifeelitsomehow.Doyouknowwhat
thefeelingislike?...There’sbeenaturnoverintheInstituteinthelastmonthorso,andit’stheonesIlikeandfeelIcantrustthatgo....Inevergetaminutetomyself.Alwayssomeoneabout.Theywon’tevenletmewritereports.”And Pola would alternately sympathize with him and laugh at him, saying
overandoveragain,“Butwhatcantheypossiblyhaveagainstyoutodoallthis?EvenifyoudidexperimentonSchwartz,that’snotsuchaterriblecrime.They’dhavejustcalledyouonthecarpetforit.”Buthisfacewasyellowandthinashemuttered,“Theywon’tletmelive.My
Sixtyiscomingandtheywon’tletmelive.”“Afterallyou’vedone.Nonsense!”“Iknowtoomuch,Pola,andtheydon’ttrustme.”“Knowtoomuchaboutwhat?”
Hewas tired thatnight,aching to remove the load.He toldher.At first shewouldn’tbelievehim,andfinally,whenshedid,shecouldonlysitthere,incoldhorror.PolacalleduptheStateHousethenextdayfromapublicCommuni-waveat
theotherendoftown.ShespokethroughahandkerchiefandaskedforDr.BelArvardan.He wasn’t there. They thought he might be in Bonair, six thousand miles
away, but he hadn’t been following his scheduled itinerary very closely. Yes,they did expect him back in Chica eventually, but they didn’t know exactlywhen.Wouldsheleavehername?Theywouldtrytofindout.She broke connections at that and leaned her soft cheek against the glass
enclosure, grateful for the coolness thereof. Her eyes were deep with unshedtearsandliquidwithdisappointment.Fool.Fool!Hehadhelpedherandshehadsenthimawayinbitterness.Hehadriskedthe
neuronic whip and worse to save the dignity of a little Earthgirl against anOutsiderandshehadturnedonhimanyway.The hundred credits she had sent to the StateHouse themorning after that
incidenthadbeenreturnedwithoutcomment.Shehadwantedthentoreachhimandapologize,butshehadbeenafraid.TheStateHousewasforOutsidersonly,andhowcouldsheinvadeit?Shehadneverevenseenit,exceptfromadistance.Andnow—She’dhavegonetothepalaceoftheProcuratorhimselfto—to—Onlyhecouldhelpthemnow.He,anOutsiderwhocouldtalkwithEarthmen
onabasisofequality.ShehadneverguessedhimtobeanOutsideruntilhehadtoldher.Hewassotallandself-confident.Hewouldknowwhattodo.Andsomeonehadtoknow,oritwouldmeantheruinofalltheGalaxy.Ofcourse,somanyOutsidersdeserved it—butdidallof them?Thewomen
andchildrenandsickandold?Thekindandthegood?TheArvardans?TheoneswhohadneverheardofEarth?Andtheywerehumans,afterall.Suchahorriblerevenge would for all time drown whatever justice might be—no, was—inEarth’scauseinanendlessseaofbloodandrottingflesh.Andthen,outofnowhere,camethecallfromArvardan.Dr.Shektshookhis
head.“Ican’ttellhim.”“Youmust,”saidPolasavagely.“Here?Itisimpossible—itwouldmeanruinforboth.”“Thenturnhimaway.I’lltakecareofit.”Herheartwas singingwildly. Itwasonlybecauseof this chance to save so
manycountlessmyriadsofhumans,ofcourse.Sherememberedhiswide,whitesmile. She remembered howhe had calmly forced a colonel of theEmperor’s
ownforcestoturnandbowhisheadtoherinapology—toher,anEarthgirl,whocouldstandthereandforgivehim.BelArvardancoulddoanything!
Arvardancould, of course,knownothing of all this. Hemerely tookShekt’sattitudeforwhatitseemed—anabruptandoddrudeness,ofapiecewitheverythingelsehehadexperiencedonEarth.He felt annoyed, there in the anteroomof the carefully lifeless office, quite
obviouslyanunwelcomeintruder.Hepickedhiswords.“Iwouldneverhavedreamedofimposinguponyouto
theextentofvisitingyou,Doctor,wereitnotthatIwasprofessionallyinterestedinyourSynapsifier.Ihavebeeninformedthat,unlikemanyEarthmen,youarenotunfriendlytomenoftheGalaxy.”It was apparently an unfortunate phrase, for Dr. Shekt jumped at it. “Now,
whoeveryourinformantis,hedoeswrongtoimputeanyespecialfriendlinesstostrangersassuch.Ihavenolikesanddislikes.IamanEarthman—”Arvardan’slipscompressedandhehalfturned.“Youunderstand,Dr.Arvardan”—thewordswerehurriedandwhispered—“I
amsorryifIseemrude,butIreallycannot—”“I quite understand,” the archaeologist said coldly, though he did not
understandatall.“Goodday,sir.”Dr.Shektsmiledfeebly.“Thepressureofmywork—”“Iamverybusytoo,Dr.Shekt.”He turned to the door, raging inwardly at all the tribe of Earthmen, feeling
withinhim,involuntarily,someofthecatchwordsthatwerebandiedsofreelyonhishomeworld.Theproverbs,forinstance:“PolitenessonEarthislikedrynessintheocean”or“AnEarthmanwillgiveyouanythingaslongasitcostsnothingandisworthless.”Hisarmhadalreadybrokenthephotoelectricbeamthatopenedthefrontdoor
whenheheardtheflurryofquickstepsbehindhimandahistofwarninginhisear.Apieceofpaperwasthrustinhishand,andwhenheturned,therewasonlyaflashofredasafiguredisappeared.Hewas in his rentedground car before heunraveled thepaper in his hand.
Wordswerescrawleduponit:“Askyourway to theGreatPlayhouseateight thisevening.Makesureyou
arenotfollowed.”Hefrownedferociouslyatitandreaditoverfivetimes,thenstaredalloverit,
as though expecting invisible ink to bound into visibility. Involuntarily, he
lookedbehindhim.Thestreetwasempty.Hehalfraisedhishandtothrowthesillyscrapoutofthewindow,hesitated,thenstuffeditintohisvestpocket.Undoubtedly,ifhehadhadonesinglethingtodothateveningotherthanwhat
the scrawlhadsuggested, thatwouldhavebeen theendof it, and,perhaps,ofseveraltrillionsofpeople.But,asitturnedout,hehadnothingtodo.And,asitturnedout,hewonderedifthesenderofthenotehadbeen—
Ateighto’clockhewasmaking his slowway as part of a long line ofgroundcarsalongtheserpentinewaythatapparentlyledtotheGreatPlayhouse.Hehadaskedonlyonce,andthepasserbyquestionedhadstaredsuspiciouslyathim(apparentlynoEarthmanwaseverfreeofthatall-pervasivesuspicion)andhadsaidcurtly,“Youjustfollowalltherestofthecars.”ItseemedthatalltherestofthecarswereindeedgoingtothePlayhouse,for
when he got there he found all being swallowed, one by one, into the gapingmawoftheundergroundparkinglot.HeswungoutoflineandcrawledpastthePlayhouse,waitingforheknewnotwhat.A slim figure dashed down from the pedestrian ramp and hung outside his
window.He staredat it, startled,but it had thedooropenandwas inside in asinglegesture.“Pardonme,”hesaid,“but—”“Ssh!”Thefigurewashuncheddownlowintheseat.“Wereyoufollowed?”“ShouldIhavebeen?”“Don’tbefunny.Gostraightahead.TurnwhenItellyou... .Mygoodness,
whatareyouwaitingfor?”Heknewthevoice.Ahoodhadshifteddowntotheshoulders,andlightbrown
hairwasshowing.Darkeyesweregazingathim.“You’dbettermoveon,”shesaidsoftly.He did, and for fifteen minutes, except for an occasional muffled but curt
direction,shesaidnothing.Hestoleglancesatherand thought,withasuddenpleasure, that shewas even prettier than he had remembered her. Strange thatnowhefeltnoresentment.They stopped—orArvardan did, at the girl’s direction—at the corner of an
unpeopledresidentialdistrict.Afteracarefulpausethegirlmotionedhimaheadonce more and they inched down a drive that ended in the gentle ramp of aprivategarage.Thedoorclosedbehindthemandthelight inthecarwastheonlysourceof
illumination.AndnowPolalookedathimgravelyandsaid,“Dr.Arvardan,I’msorrythatI
hadtodothisinordertospeaktoyouprivately.IknowthatIhavenostandinginyourgoodopiniontolose—”“Don’tthinkthat,”hesaidawkwardly.“Imust think that. Iwant you to believe that I fully realize how small and
viciousIwasthatnight.Idon’thavetheproperwordstoapologize—”“Pleasedon’t.”Heglancedaway fromher. “Imighthavebeena littlemore
diplomatic.”“Well . . .” Pola paused a few moments to regain a certain minimal
composure. “It’s notwhat I’vebroughtyouhere for.You’re theonlyOutsiderI’veevermetthatcouldbekindandnoble—andIneedyourhelp.”AcoldpangshotthroughArvardan.Wasthiswhatitwasallabout?Hepacked
thatthoughtintoacold“Oh?”Andshecried,“No,”inreturn.“Itisnotforme,Dr.Arvardan.Itisforallthe
Galaxy.Nothingformyself.Nothing!”“Whatisit?”“First—I don’t think anyone followed us, but if you hear any noise at all,
wouldyou—wouldyou”—hereyesdropped—“putyourarmsaboutme,and—and—youknow.”He nodded his head and said dryly, “I believe I can improvisewithout any
trouble.Isitnecessarytowaitfornoise?”Polareddened.“Pleasedon’tjokeaboutit,ormistakemyintentions.Itwould
betheonlywayofavoidingsuspicionofourrealintentions.Itistheonethingthatwouldbeconvincing.”Arvardansaidsoftly,“Arethingsthatserious?”Helookedathercuriously.Sheseemedsoyoungandsosoft.Inawayhefelt
ittobeunfair.Neverinhislifedidheactunreasoningly.Hetookprideinthat.Hewasamanofstrongemotions,buthefoughtthemandbeatthem.Andhere,justbecauseagirlseemedweak,hefelttheunreasoningurgetoprotecther.She said, “Things are that serious. I’m going to tell you something, and I
knowyouwon’tbelieveitatfirst.ButIwantyoutotrytobelieveit.IwantyoutomakeupyourmindthatI’msincere.AndmostofallIwantyoutodecidethatyouwillstickwithusafterItellyouandseeitthrough.Willyoutry?I’llgiveyoufifteenminutes,andifyouthinkattheendofthattimethatI’mnotworthtrustingorbotheringwith,I’llleave,andthat’stheendofit.”“Fifteenminutes?”Hislipsquirkedinaninvoluntarysmile,andheremoved
hiswristwatchandputitbeforehim.“Allright.”She clasped her hands in her lap and looked firmly ahead through the
windshieldthataffordedaviewonlyoftheblankwallofthegarageahead.Hewatchedher thoughtfully—the smooth, soft lineofher chin,belying the
firmnessintowhichshewasattemptingtoforceit,thestraightandthinlydrawnnose,thepeculiarlyrichovertonetothecomplexion,socharacteristicofEarth.Hecaughtthecornerofhereyeuponhim.Itwashastilywithdrawn.“What’sthematter?”hesaid.Sheturnedtohimandcaughtherunderlipintwoteeth.“Iwaswatchingyou.”“Yes,Icouldseethat.Smudgeonmynose?”“No.” She smiled tinily, the first since she had entered his car. He was
becomingabsurdlyconsciousoflittlethingsabouther:thewayherhairseemedtohoverandfloatgentlyeachtimesheshookherhead.“It’sjustthatI’vebeenwondering ever since—that night—why you don’t wear that lead clothing, ifyou’reanOutsider.That’swhatfooledme.Outsidersgenerallylooklikesacksofpotatoes.”“AndIdon’t?”“Oh no”—and there was a sudden tinge of enthusiasm in her voice—“you
look—youlookquitelikeanancientmarblestatue,exceptthatyou’realiveandwarm....I’msorry.I’mbeingimpertinent.”“Youmeanyou think that it’smyopinion you’re anEarth-girlwhodoesn’t
knowyourplace.You’llhavetostopthinkingthatofme,orwecan’tbefriendly.. . . I don’t believe in the radioactivity superstition. I’ve measured theatmosphericradioactivityofEarthandI’veconductedlaboratoryexperimentsonanimals. I’m quite convinced that under ordinary circumstances the radiationswon’thurtme.I’vebeenheretwomonthsandIdon’tfeelsickyet.Myhairisn’tfallingout”—hepulledatit—“mystomachisn’tinknots.AndIdoubtthatmyfertilityisbeingendangered,thoughIwilladmittotakingslightprecautionsinthatrespect.Butlead-impregnatedshorts,yousee,don’tshow.”He said that gravely, and she was smiling again. “You’re slightly mad, I
think,”shesaid.“Really? You’d be surprised how many very intelligent and famous
archaeologistshavesaidthat—andinlongspeeches,too.”Andshesaidsuddenly,“Willyoulistentomenow?Thefifteenminutesare
up.”“Whatdoyouthink?”“Why, that youmight be. If youweren’t, youwouldn’t still be sitting here.
NotafterwhatI’vedone.”Hesaidsoftly,“AreyouundertheimpressionthatIhavetoforcemyselfvery
hardtositherenexttoyou?Ifyoudo,you’rewrong. . . .Doyouknow,Pola,I’ve never seen, I really believe I’ve never seen, a girl quite as beautiful asyourself.”She lookedupquickly,withfright inhereyes.“Pleasedon’t. I’mnot trying
forthat.Don’tyoubelieveme?”“Yes,Ido,Pola.Tellmewhateveritisyouwantto.I’llbelieveitandI’llhelp
you.”Hebelievedhimself,implicitly.AtthemomentArvardanwouldcheerfullyhaveundertakentounseattheEmperor.Hehadneverbeeninlovebefore,andatthatpointhegroundhisthoughtstoahalt.Hehadnotusedthatwordbefore.Love?WithanEarthgirl?“You’veseenmyfather,Dr.Arvardan?”“Dr.Shektisyourfather?...PleasecallmeBel.I’llcallyouPola.”“Ifyouwantmeto,I’lltry.Isupposeyouwereprettyangrywithhim.”“Hewasn’tverypolite.”“He couldn’t be.He’s beingwatched. In fact, he and I arranged in advance
thathewastogetridofyouandIwastoseeyouhere.Thisisourhouse,youknow.. . .Yousee”—hervoicedroppedtoatightwhisper—“Earthisgoingtorevolt.”Arvardancouldn’tresistamomentofamusement.“No!”hesaid,openinghiseyeswide.“Allofit?”But Pola flared into instant fury. “Don’t laugh at me. You said you would
listenandbelieveme.Earth isgoing to revolt,and it is serious,becauseEarthcandestroyalltheEmpire.”“Earth can do that?” Arvardan struggled successfully against a burst of
laughter.Hesaidgently,“Pola,howwelldoyouknowyourGalactography?”“Aswellasanybody,teacher,andwhathasthattodowithit,anyway?”“Ithas this todowith it.TheGalaxyhasavolumeof severalmillioncubic
light-years. It contains two hundred million inhabited planets and anapproximatepopulationoffivehundredquadrillionpeople.Right?”“Isupposeso,ifyousayso.”“It is, believe me. Now Earth is one planet, with a population of twenty
millions,andnoresourcesbesides.Inotherwords,therearetwenty-fivebillionGalactic citizens for every single Earthman. Now what harm can Earth doagainstoddsoftwenty-fivebilliontoone?”Foramomentthegirlseemedtosinkintodoubt,thensheemerged.“Bel,”she
said firmly, “I can’t answer that, but my father can. He has not told me thecrucialdetails,becauseheclaimsthatthatwouldendangermylife.Buthewillnow,ifyoucomewithme.He’stoldmethatEarthknowsawaybywhichitcanwipe out all life outside Earth, and hemust be right. He’s always been rightbefore.”Hercheekswerepinkwithearnestness,andArvardanlongedtotouchthem.
(Hadheeverbeforetouchedherandfelthorrifiedatit?Whatwashappeningtohim?)
“Isitafterten?”askedPola.“Yes,”hereplied.“Thenhe should be upstairs now—if theyhaven’t caught him.”She looked
aboutwithaninvoluntaryshudder.“Wecangetintothehousedirectlyfromthegaragenow,andifyou’llcomewithme—”Shehadherhandontheknobthatcontrolledthecardoor,whenshefroze.Her
voicewasahuskywhisper:“There’ssomeonecoming...Oh,quick—”The rest was smothered. It was anything but difficult for Arvardan to
rememberheroriginalinjunction.Hisarmssweptaboutherwithaneasymotion,and,inaninstant,shewaswarmandsoftagainsthim.Herlipstrembleduponhisandwerelimitlessseasofsweetness...Forabouttensecondsheswiveledhiseyestotheirextremesinanefforttosee
thatfirstcrackoflightorhearthatfirstfootstep,butthenhewasdrownedandsweptunderby theexcitementof itall.Blindedbystars,deafenedbyhisownheartbeat.Herlipslefthis,buthesoughtthemagain,frankly,andfoundthem.Hisarms
tightened,andshemeltedwithinthemuntilherownheartbeatwasshakinghimintimetohisown.Itwasquite awhilebefore theybrokeapart, and for amoment they rested,
cheekagainstcheek.Arvardanhadneverbeeninlovebefore,andthistimehedidnotstartatthe
word.Whatofit?Earthgirlornot,theGalaxycouldnotproduceherequal.Hesaid,withadreamypleasure,“Itmusthavebeenonlyatrafficnoise.”“Itwasn’t,”shewhispered.“Ididn’thearanynoise.”Heheldheratarm’sdistance,buthereyesdidnotfalter.“Youdevil.Areyou
serious?”Hereyessparkled.“Iwantedyoutokissme.I’mnotsorry.”“DoyouthinkIam?Kissmeagain,then,fornoreasonbutthatIwanttothis
time.”Anotherlong,longmomentandshewassuddenlyawayfromhim,arranging
herhairandadjustingthecollarofherdresswithprimandprecisegestures.“Ithinkwehadbettergointothehousenow.Putoutthecarlight.I’vegotapencilflash.”He stepped out of the car after her, and in the new darkness she was the
vaguestshadowinthelittlepockmarkoflightthatcamefromherpencilflash.Shesaid, “You’dbetterholdmyhand.There’sa flightof stairswemustgo
up.”Hisvoicewasawhisperbehindher.“Iloveyou,Pola.”Itcameoutsoeasily
—anditsoundedsoright.Hesaiditagain.“Iloveyou,Pola.”Shesaidsoftly,“Youhardlyknowme.”“No.Allmylife.Iswear!Allmylife.Pola,fortwomonthsI’vebeenthinking
anddreamingofyou.Iswearit.”“IamanEarthgirl,sir.”“ThenIwillbeanEarthman.Tryme.”Hestoppedherandbentherhandupgentlyuntilthepocketflashrestedupon
herflushed,tear-markedface.“Whyareyoucrying?”“Because when my father tells you what he knows, you’ll know that you
cannotloveanEarthgirl.”“Trymeonthattoo.”
15
TheOddsThatVanished
ArvardanandShektmetinabackroomonthesecondstoryofthehouse,with the windows carefully polarized to complete opaqueness. Pola wasdownstairs, alert and sharp-eyed in the armchair fromwhich shewatched thedarkandemptystreet.Shekt’s stooped figure wore somehow an air different from that which
Arvardanhadobservedsometenhourspreviously.Thephysicist’sfacewasstillhaggard,andinfinitelyweary,butwherepreviouslyithadseemeduncertainandtimorous,itnowboreanalmostdesperatedefiance.“Dr.Arvardan,” he said, and his voicewas firm, “Imust apologize formy
treatmentofyouinthemorning.Ihadhopedyouwouldunderstand—”“ImustadmitIdidn’t,sir,butIbelieveIdonow.”Shekt seated himself at the table and gestured toward the bottle of wine.
Arvardanwavedhishandinadeprecatingmotion.“Ifyoudon’tmind,I’llhavesomeofthefruitinstead....Whatisthis?Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenanythinglikeit.”“It’sakindoforange,”saidShekt.“Idon’tbelieveitgrowsoutsideEarth.The
rind comes off easily.” He demonstrated, and Arvardan, after sniffing at itcuriously,sankhisteethintothewinypulp.Hecameupwithanexclamation.“Why, this is delightful, Dr. Shekt! Has Earth ever tried to export these
objects?”“TheAncients,”saidthebiophysicistgrimly,“arenotfondoftradingwiththe
Outside. Nor are our neighbors in space fond of tradingwith us. It is but anaspectofourdifficultieshere.”Arvardan felt a sudden spasm of annoyance seize him. “That is the most
stupidthingyet.ItellyouthatIcoulddespairofhumanintelligencewhenIseewhatcanexistinmen’sminds.”Shekt shrugged with the tolerance of lifelong use. “It is part of the nearly
insolubleproblemofanti-Terrestrianism,Ifear.”“Butwhatmakesitsonearlyinsoluble,”exclaimedthearchaeologist,“isthat
no one seems to really want a solution! Howmany Earthmen respond to thesituation by hating all Galactic citizens indiscriminately? It is an almostuniversal disease—hate for hate. Do your people reallywant equality,mutualtolerance?No!Mostofthemwantonlytheirownturnastopdog.”“Perhapsthereismuchinwhatyousay,”saidShektsadly.“Icannotdenyit.
Butthatisnotthewholestory.Giveusbutthechance,andanewgenerationofEarthmen would grow to maturity, lacking insularity and believingwholeheartedlyintheonenessofMan.TheAssimilationists,withtheirtoleranceand belief inwholesome compromise, havemore than once been a power onEarth.Iamone.Or,atleast,Iwasoneonce.ButtheZealotsruleallEarthnow.Theyaretheextremenationalists,withtheirdreamsofpastruleandfuturerule.ItisagainstthemthattheEmpiremustbeprotected.”Arvardanfrowned.“YourefertotherevoltPolaspokeof?”“Dr.Arvardan,”Shektsaidgrimly,“it’snottooeasyajobtoconvinceanyone
ofsuchanapparentlyridiculouspossibilityasEarthconqueringtheGalaxy,butit’s true. I am not physically brave, and I am most anxious to live. You canimagine,then,theimmensecrisisthatmustnowexisttoforcemetoruntheriskofcommittingtreasonwiththeeyeofthelocaladministrationalreadyuponme.”“Well,” saidArvardan, “if it is that serious, I had better tell you one thing
immediately.IwillhelpyouallIcan,butonlyinmyowncapacityasaGalacticcitizen.Ihavenoofficialstandinghere,norhaveIanyparticularinfluenceattheCourt or even at theProcurator’sPalace. I am exactlywhat I seem to be—anarchaeologistona scientific expeditionwhich involvesonlymyown interests.Sinceyouarepreparedtorisktreason,hadn’tyoubetterseetheProcuratoraboutthis?Hecouldreallydosomething.”“That is exactlywhat I cannotdo,Dr.Arvardan. It is thatverycontingency
againstwhichtheAncientsguardme.WhenyoucametomyhousethismorningIeventhoughtyoumightbeago-between.IthoughtthatEnniussuspected.”“Hemaysuspect—Icannotanswerforthat.ButIamnotago-between.I’m
sorry.Ifyouinsistonmakingmeyourconfidant, Icanpromise toseehimforyou.”
“Thankyou.ItisallIask.That—andtouseyourgoodofficestointercedeforEarthagainsttoostrongareprisal.”“Ofcourse.”Arvardanwasuneasy.Atthemomenthewasconvincedthathe
was dealing with an elderly and eccentric paranoiac, perhaps harmless, butthoroughlycracked.Yethehadnochoicebuttoremain,tolisten,andtotrytosmoothoverthegentleinsanity—forPola’ssake.Shektsaid,“Dr.Arvardan,youhaveheardoftheSynapsifier?Yousaidsothis
morning.”“Yes, I did. I readyouroriginal article inPhysicalReviews. I discussed the
instrumentwiththeProcuratorandwiththeHighMinister.”“WiththeHighMinister?”“Why, certainly.When I obtained the letter of introduction that you—uh—
refusedtosee,I’mafraid.”“I’m sorry for that. But I wish you had not—What is the extent of your
knowledgeconcerningtheSynapsifier?”“Thatitisaninterestingfailure.Itisdesignedtoimprovelearningcapacity.It
hassucceededtosomeextentonrats,buthasfailedonhumanbeings.”Shektwaschagrined.“Yes,youcouldthinknothingelsefromthatarticle.It
was publicized as a failure, and the eminently successful results have beensuppressed,deliberately.”“Hmp.Aratherunusualdisplayofscientificethics,Dr.Shekt.”“Iadmitit.ButIamfifty-six,sir,andifyouknowanythingofthecustomsof
Earth,youknowthatIhaven’tlongtolive.”“TheSixty.Yes, Ihaveheardof it—more than Iwouldhave liked, in fact.”
Andhe thoughtwrylyof that first triponaTerrestrianstratoliner.“Exceptionsaremadefornotedscientists,amongothers,Ihaveheard.”“Certainly.ButitistheHighMinisterandtheCouncilofAncientswhodecide
onthat,andthereisnoappealfromtheirdecisions,eventotheEmperor.IwastoldthatthepriceoflifewassecrecyconcerningtheSynapsifierandhardworkforitsimprovement.”Theoldermanspreadhishandshelplessly.“CouldIknowthenoftheoutcome,oftheusetowhichthemachinewouldbeput?”“Andtheuse?”Arvardanextractedacigarettefromhisshirt-pocketcaseand
offeredonetotheother,whichwasrefused.“Ifyou’llwaitamoment—Onebyone,aftermyexperimentshadreachedthe
point where I felt the instrument might be safely applied to human beings,certainofEarth’sbiologistsweretreated.IneachcasetheyweremenIknewtobe in sympathy with the Zealots—the extremists, that is. They all survived,thoughsecondaryeffectsmadethemselvesshownafteratime.Oneofthemwasbroughtback for treatment eventually. I couldnot savehim.But, in his dying
delirium,Ifoundout.”Itwascloseuponmidnight.Thedayhadbeenlongandmuchhadhappened.
ButnowsomethingstirredwithinArvardan.Hesaidtightly,“Iwishyou’dgettothepoint.”Shekt said, “I beg your patience. I must explain thoroughly, if you’re to
believe me. You, of course, know of Earth’s peculiar environment—itsradioactivity—”“Yes,Ihaveafairknowledgeofthematter.”“AndoftheeffectofthisradioactivityuponEarthanditseconomy?”“Yes.”“ThenIwon’tbelaborthepoint.Ineedonlysaythattheincidenceofmutation
onEarthisgreaterthanintherestoftheGalaxy.TheideaofourenemiesthatEarthmenaredifferentthushasacertainbasisofphysicaltruth.Tobesure,themutations are minor, and most possess no survival value. If any permanentchange has occurred in Earthmen, it is only in some aspects of their internalchemistry which enables them to display greater resistance to their ownparticular environment. Thus they show greater resistance to radiation effects,morerapidhealingofburnedtissues—”“Dr.Shekt,Iamacquaintedwithallyousay.”“Then has it ever occurred to you that thesemutational processes occur in
livingspeciesonEarthotherthanhuman?”Therewasashortsilence,andthenArvardansaid,“Why,no,ithasn’t,though,
ofcourse,itisquiteinevitable,nowthatyoumentionit.”“Thatisso.Ithappens.Ourdomesticanimalsexistingreatervarietythanon
anyotherinhabitedworld.Theorangeyouateisamutatedvariety,whichexistsnowhere else. It is this, among other things, which makes the orange sounacceptable for export. Outsiders suspect it as they suspect us—and weourselves guard it as a valuable property peculiar to ourselves.And of coursewhatappliestoanimalsandplantsappliesalsotomicroscopiclife.”Andnow,indeed,Arvardanfeltthethinpangoffearenter.Hesaid,“Youmean—bacteria?”“Imeanthewholedomainofprimitive life.Protozoa,bacteria,and theself-
reproducingproteinsthatsomepeoplecallviruses.”“Andwhatareyougettingat?”“I think you have a notion of that, Dr. Arvardan. You seem suddenly
interested. You see, there is a belief among your people that Earthmen arebringersofdeath,thattoassociatewithanEarthmanistodie,thatEarthmenarethebearersofmisfortune,possessasortofevileye—”“Iknowallthat.Itismerelysuperstition.”
“Not entirely. That is the dreadful part. Like all common beliefs, howeversuperstitious, distorted, and perverted, it has a speck of truth at bottom.Sometimes,yousee,anEarthmancarrieswithinhisbodysomemutatedformofmicroscopicparasitewhichisnotquitelikeanyknownelsewhere,andtowhich,sometimes, Outsiders are not particularly resistant. What follows is simplebiology,Dr.Arvardan.”Arvardanwassilent.Shektwenton,“Wearecaughtsometimes, too,ofcourse.Anewspeciesof
germwillmakeitswayoutoftheradioactivemistsandanepidemicwillsweeptheplanet,but,byandlarge,Earthmenhavekeptpace.Foreachvarietyofgermandvirus,webuildourdefenseoverthegenerations,andwesurvive.Outsidersdon’thavetheopportunity.”“Doyoumean,”saidArvardanwithastrangelyfaintsensation,“thatcontact
withyounow—”Hepushedhis chairback.Hewas thinkingof the evening’skisses.Shektshookhishead.“Ofcoursenot.Wedon’tcreatethedisease;wemerely
carry it.Andevensuchcarriageoccursvery rarely. If I livedonyourworld, Iwouldnomorecarrythegermthanyouwould;Ihavenospecialaffinityforit.Even here it is only one out of every quadrillion germs, or one out of everyquadrillionofquadrillions,thatisdangerous.Thechancesofyourinfectionrightnow are less than that of a meteorite penetrating the roof of this house andhittingyou.Unlessthegermsinquestionaredeliberatelysearchedfor,isolated,andconcentrated.”Againa silence, longer this time.Arvardan said in aqueer, strangledvoice,
“HaveEarthmenbeendoingthat?”Hehadstoppedthinkingintermsofparanoia.Hewasreadytobelieve.“Yes. But for innocent reasons, at first. Our biologists are, of course,
particularlyinterestedinthepeculiaritiesofEarthlife,and,recently,isolatedthevirusofCommonFever.”“WhatisCommonFever?”“A mild endemic disease on Earth. That is, it is always with us. Most
Earthmen have it in their childhood, and its symptoms are not very severe.Amild fever, a transitory rash, and inflammation of the joints and of the lips,combinedwithanannoyingthirst.Itrunsitscourseinfourtosixdays,andthesubjectisthereafterimmune.I’vehadit.Polahashadit.Occasionallythereisamore virulent formof this samedisease—a slightly different strain of virus isconcerned,presumably—andthenitiscalledRadiationFever.”“RadiationFever.I’veheardofit,”saidArvardan.“Oh,really?ItiscalledRadiationFeverbecauseofthemistakennotionthatit
is caught after exposure to radioactive areas.Actually, exposure to radioactiveareasisoftenfollowedbyRadiationFever,becauseit is inthoseareasthat thevirus ismost apt tomutate todangerous forms.But it is thevirusandnot theradiationwhichdoesit.InthecaseofRadiationFever,symptomsdevelopinamatteroftwohours.Thelipsaresobadlyaffectedthatthesubjectcanscarcelytalk,andhemaybedeadinamatterofdays.“Now, Dr. Arvardan, this is the crucial point. The Earthman has adapted
himselftoCommonFeverandtheOutsiderhasnot.Occasionallyamemberofthe Imperial garrison is exposed to it, and, in that case, he reacts to it as anEarthmanwouldtoRadiationFever.Usuallyhedieswithintwelvehours.Heisthenburned—byEarthmen—sinceanyothersoldierapproachingalsodies.“Thevirus,as I say,was isolated tenyearsago. It isanucleoprotein,asare
most filtrable viruses, which, however, possesses the remarkable property ofcontaininganunusuallyhighconcentrationof radioactivecarbon, sulphur, andphosphorus.WhenIsayunusuallyhighImeanthatfiftypercentofitscarbon,sulphur, and phosphorus is radioactive. It is supposed that the effects of theorganism on its host is largely that of its radiations, rather than of its toxins.Naturally it would seem logical that Earthmen, who are adapted to gammaradiations, areonly slightly affected.Original research in thevirus centeredatfirstabout themethodwherebyitconcentrated its radioactive isotopes.Asyouknow, no chemicalmeans can separate isotopes except through very long andtediousprocedures.Norisanyorganismotherthanthisvirusknownwhichcandoso.Butthenthedirectionofresearchchanged.“I’ll be short,Dr.Arvardan. I think you see the rest.Experimentsmight be
conductedonanimalsfromoutsideEarth,butnotonOutsidersthemselves.Thenumbers of Outsiders on Earth were too few to allow several to disappearwithoutnotice.Norcouldprematurediscoveryof theirplansbeallowed.So itwas a group of bacteriologists thatwas sent to the Synapsifier, to returnwithinsightsenormouslydeveloped.Itwastheywhodevelopedanewmathematicalattackonproteinchemistryandonimmunology,whichenabledthemfinallytodevelopanartificial strainofvirus thatwasdesigned toaffectGalactichumanbeings—Outsiders—only.Tonsofthecrystallizedvirusnowexist.”Arvardanwashaggard.Hefeltthedropsofperspirationglidesluggishlydown
histempleandcheek.“Then you are tellingme,” he gasped, “that Earth intends to set loose this
virusontheGalaxy;thattheywillinitiateagiganticbacteriologicalwarfare—”“Whichwecannotloseandyoucannotwin.Exactly.Oncetheepidemicstarts,
millionswilldieeachday,andnothingwillstopit.Frightenedrefugeesfleeingacrossspacewillcarrytheviruswiththem,andifyouattempttoblowupentire
planets,thediseasecanbestartedagaininnewcenters.Therewillbenoreasonto connect the matter with Earth. By the time our own survival becomessuspicious, theravageswillhaveprogessedsofar, thedespairof theOutsiderswillbesodeep,thatnothingwillmattertothem.”“Andallwilldie?”Theappallinghorrordidnotpenetrate—couldnot.“Perhapsnot.Ournewscienceofbacteriologyworksbothways.Wehavethe
antitoxinaswell,andthemeansofproductionthereof.Itmightbeusedincaseofearlysurrender.Thentheremaybesomeout-of-the-wayeddiesoftheGalaxythatcouldescape,orevenafewcasesofnaturalimmunity.”In the horrible blankness that followed—during which Arvardan never
thoughtofdoubtingthetruthofwhathehadheard,thehorribletruthwhichatastrokewipedouttheoddsoftwenty-fivebilliontoone—Shekt’svoicewassmallandtired.“It is not Earth that is doing this. A handful of leaders, perverted by the
gigantic pressure that excluded them from theGalaxy, hating thosewho keepthemoutside,wantingtostrikebackatanycost,andwithinsaneintensity—“Oncetheyhavebegun,therestofEarthmustfollow.Whatcanitdo?Inits
tremendousguilt,itwillhavetofinishwhatitstarted.CoulditallowenoughoftheGalaxytosurviveandthusriskalaterpunishment?“YetbeforeIamanEarthman,Iamaman.Musttrillionsdieforthesakeof
millions?MustacivilizationspreadingoveraGalaxycrumbleforthesakeoftheresentment,howeverjustified,ofasingleplanet?Andwillwebebetteroffforall that? The power in the Galaxy will reside still on those worlds with thenecessaryresources—andwehavenone.EarthmenmayevenruleatTrantorfora generation, but their childrenwill becomeTrantorians, and in their turnwilllookdownupontheremnantonEarth.“Andbesides,isthereanadvantagetoHumanitytoexchangethetyrannyofa
GalaxyforthetyrannyofEarth?No—no—Theremustbeawayoutforallmen,awaytojusticeandfreedom.”Hishandsstoletohisface,andbehindtheirgnarledfingersherockedgently
toandfro.Arvardan had heard all this in a numbed haze. Hemumbled, “There is no
treasoninwhatyouhavedone,Dr.Shekt.IwillgotoEverestimmediately.TheProcuratorwillbelieveme.Hemustbelieveme.”Therewasthesoundofrunningfootsteps, theflashofafrightenedfaceinto
theroom,thedoorleftswingingopen.“Father—Menarecomingupthewalk.”Dr. Shekt went gray. “Quickly, Dr. Arvardan, through the garage.” Hewas
pushingviolently.“TakePola,anddon’tworryaboutme.I’llholdthemback.”
But aman in a green robewaited for them as they turned.Hewore a thinsmileandcarried,withacasualease,aneuronicwhip.Therewasathunderoffistsatthemaindoor,acrash,andthesoundofpoundingfeet.“Whoareyou?”demandedArvardaninafeebledefianceofthearmedgreen-
robe.HehadsteppedbeforePola.“I?” said Green-robe harshly. “I am merely the humble Secretary of His
Excellency,theHighMinister.”Headvanced.“Ialmostwaitedtoolong.Butnotquite.Hmm,agirl,too.Injudicious—”Arvardan said evenly, “I am a Galactic citizen, and I dispute your right to
detainme—or,forthatmatter,toenterthishouse—withoutlegalauthority.”“I”—andtheSecretarytappedhischestgentlywithhisfreehand—“amallthe
rightandauthorityonthisplanet.WithinashorttimeIwillbealltherightandauthorityintheGalaxy.Wehaveallofyou,youknow—evenSchwartz.”“Schwartz!”criedDr.ShektandPola,nearlytogether.“Youaresurprised?Come,Iwillbringyoutohim.”ThelastthingArvardanwasconsciousofwasthatsmile,expanding—andthe
flash of the whip. He toppled through a crimson sear of pain intounconsciousness.
16
ChooseYourSide!
ForthemomentSchwartzwasrestinguneasilyonahardbenchinoneofthesmallsub-basementroomsoftheChica“HallofCorrection.”TheHall,asitwascommonlytermed,wasthegreattokenofthelocalpower
of the HighMinister and those surrounding him. It lifted its gloominess in arocky,angularheightthatovershadowedtheImperialbarracksbeyondit,justasitsshadowclutchedattheTerrestrialmalefactorfarmorethandidtheun-exertedauthorityoftheEmpire.Within its walls many an Earthman in past centuries had waited for the
judgmentthatcametoonewhofalsifiedorevadedthequotasofproduction,wholivedpasthis time,or connivedat another’s suchcrime,orwhowasguiltyofattempting subversion of the local government. Occasionally, when the pettyprejudicesofTerrestrialjusticemadeparticularlylittlesensetothesophisticatedand usually blasé Imperial government of the time, a convictionmight be setaside by theProcurator, but thismeant insurrection, or, at the very least,wildriots.Ordinarily,wheretheCouncildemandeddeath, theProcuratoryielded.After
all,itwasonlyEarthmenwhosuffered—Ofallthis,JosephSchwartz,verynaturally,knewnothing.Tohim,immediate
opticalawarenessconsistedofasmallroom,itswallstransfusedwithbutadimlight,itsfurnitureconsistingoftwohardbenchesandatable,plusasmallrecessinthewallthatservedaswashroomandsanitaryconveniencecombined.There
wasnowindowforaglimpseofsky,andthedriftofairintotheroomthroughtheventilatingshaftwasfeeble.Herubbedthehairthatcircledhisbaldspotandsatupruefully.Hisattemptto
escapetonowhere(forwhereonEarthwashesafe?)hadbeenshort,notsweet,andhadendedhere.AtleasttherewastheMindTouchtoplaywith.Butwasthatbadorgood?Atthefarmithadbeenaqueer,disturbinggift,thenatureofwhichhedidnot
know,thepossibilitiesofwhichhedidnotthinkof.Nowitwasaflexiblegifttobeinvestigated.Withnothingtodofortwenty-fourhoursbutbroodonimprisonment,hecould
have been courting madness. As it was, he could Touch the jailers as theypassed, reach out for guardsmen in the adjacent corridors, extend the furthestfibrilsofhismindeventotheCaptainoftheHallinhisdistantoffice.Heturnedthemindsoverdelicatelyandprobedthem.Theyfellapartlikeso
manywalnuts—dryhusksoutofwhich emotions andnotions fell in a sibilantrain.Helearnedmuchin theprocessofEarthandEmpire—more thanhehad,or
couldhave,inalltwomonthsonthefarm.Ofcourseoneoftheitemsthathelearned,overandoveragain,beyondany
chanceofmistaking,wasjustthis:Hewascondemnedtodeath!Therewasnoescape,nodoubt,noreservation.Itmightbetoday;itmightbetomorrow.Buthewoulddie!Somehowitsankinandheaccepteditalmostgratefully.
Thedooropened,andhewasonhisfeet,intensefear.Onemightacceptdeathreasoningly,witheveryaspectoftheconsciousmind,butthebodywasabrutebeastthatknewnothingofreason.Thiswasit!No—itwasn’t.TheenteringMindTouchheldnothingofdeathinit.Itwasa
guardwithametalrodheldreadyinhishand.Schwartzknewwhatitwas.“Comewithme,”hesaidsharply.Schwartzfollowedhim,speculatingonthisoddpowerofhis.Longbeforehis
guardcouldusehisweapon,longbeforehecouldpossiblyknowheshould,hecouldbestruckdownwithoutasound,withoutagiveawaymoment.HisMindwasinSchwartz’smentalhands.Aslightsqueezeanditwouldbeover.Butwhy?Therewouldbeothers.Howmanycouldhehandleatonce?How
manypairsofhandswereinhismind?
Hefollowed,docilely.It was a large, large room that he was brought into. Two men and a girl
occupied it, stretchedoutcorpsewiseonhigh,highbenches.Yetnotcorpses—sincethreeactivemindsweremuchinevidence.Paralyzed!Familiar?...Weretheyfamiliar?Hewasstoppingtolook,buttheguard’shardhandwasonhisshoulder.“Get
on.”Therewasa fourthslab,empty.Therewasnodeath in theguard’smind,so
Schwartzclimbedon.Heknewwhatwascoming.Theguard’ssteelyrodtouchedeachofhislimbs.Theytingledandlefthim,so
thathewasnothingbutahead,floatingonnothingness.Heturnedit.“Pola,”hecried.“You’rePola,aren’tyou?Thegirlwho—”Shewasnodding.Hehadn’trecognizedherTouchassuch.Hehadneverbeen
awareof it that time twomonthsago.At that timehismentalprogressionhadreached only the stage of sensitivity to “atmosphere.” In the brilliance ofhindsight,herememberedthatwell.Butfromthecontentshecouldstilllearnmuch.TheonepastthegirlwasDr.
Shekt;theonefurthestofallwasDr.BelArvardan.Hecouldfilchtheirnames,sense their despair, taste the last dregsof horror and fright in theyounggirl’smind.For amoment he pitied them, and then he rememberedwho theywere and
whattheywere.Andhehardenedhisheart.Letthemdie!
Theotherthreehadbeenthereforthebetterpartofanhour.Theroominwhichtheywereleftwasevidentlyoneusedforassembliesofseveralhundred.The prisonerswere lost and lonely in its size.Norwas there anything to say.Arvardan’sthroatburneddrylyandheturnedhisheadfromsidetosidewithafutilerestlessness.Itwastheonlypartofhisbodythathecouldmove.Shekt’seyeswereclosedandhislipswerecolorlessandpinched.Arvardanwhisperedfiercely,“Shekt.Shekt,Isay!”“What?...What?”Afeeblewhisperatbest.“Whatareyoudoing?Goingtosleep?Think,man,think!”“Why?Whatistheretothinkof?”“WhoisthisJosephSchwartz?”Pola’svoicesounded,thinandweary.“Don’tyouremember,Bel?Thattime
inthedepartmentstore,whenIfirstmetyou—solongago?”
Arvardanwrenchedwildlyandfoundhecouldlifthisheadtwoachinginches.AbitofPola’sfacewasjustvisible.“Pola! Pola!” If he could have moved toward her—as for two months he
mighthaveandhadn’t.Shewaslookingathim,smilingsowanlythatitmightbeastatue’ssmile,andhesaid,“We’llwinoutyet.You’llsee.”Butshewasshakingherhead—andhisneckgaveway,itstendonsinpanging
agony.“Shekt,”hesaidagain.“Listentome.HowdidyoumeetthisSchwartz?Why
washeapatientofyours?”“TheSynapsifier.Hecameasavolunteer.”“Andwastreated?”“Yes.”Arvardanrevolvedthatinhismind.“Whatmadehimcometoyou?”“Idon’tknow.”“Butthen—MaybeheisanImperialagent.”(Schwartzfollowedhisthoughtwellandsmiledtohimself.Hesaidnothing,
andhemeanttokeeponsayingnothing.)Shekt stirred his head. “An Imperial agent? You mean because the High
Priest’sSecretarysaysheis.Oh,nonsense.Andwhatdifferencedoesitmake?He’s as helpless aswe. . . . Listen,Arvardan,maybe, ifwe tell some sort ofconcertedstory,theymightwait.Eventuallywemight—”Thearchaeologistlaughedhollowly,andhisthroatburnedatthefriction.“We
might live,youmean.With theGalaxydeadandcivilization in ruins?Live? Imightaswelldie!”“I’mthinkingofPola,”mutteredShekt.“Iamtoo,”saidtheother.“Askher....Pola,shallwesurrender?Shallwetry
tolive?”Pola’svoicewasfirm.“Ihavechosenmyside.Idon’twanttodie,butifmy
sidedies,I’llgowithit.”Arvardanfeltsomehowtriumphant.WhenhebroughthertoSirius,theymight
call her anEarthgirl, but shewas their equal, and hewould,with a great andgoodpleasure,smashteethintothethroatofany—And he remembered that he wasn’t likely to bring her to Sirius—to bring
anyonetoSirius.Therewasn’tlikelytobeaSirius.Then,asthoughtoescapefromthethought,toescapeanywhere,heshouted,
“You!Whatchername!Schwartz!”Schwartz raised his head for a moment and allowed a glance to ooze out
towardtheother.Hestillsaidnothing.“Who are you?” demandedArvardan. “How did you getmixed up in this?
What’syourpartinit?”Andatthequestion,alltheinjusticeofeverythingdescendedonSchwartz.All
theharmlessnessofhispast,all the infinitehorrorof thepresentburst inuponhim,so thathesaid ina fury,“I?Howdid Igetmixedup in it?Listen. Iwasonceanobody.Anhonestman,ahard-workingtailor.Ihurtnobody,Ibotherednobody, I took care ofmy family. And then, for no reason, for no reason—Icamehere.”“ToChica?”askedArvardan,whodidnotquitefollow.“No,nottoChica!”shoutedSchwartzinwildderision.“Icametothiswhole
madworld....Oh,whatdoIcareifyoubelievemeornot?Myworldisinthepast.Myworldhad landand foodand twobillionpeople, and itwas theonlyworld.”Arvardan fell silentbefore theverbal assault.He turned toShekt. “Canyou
understandhim?”“Do you realize,” said Shekt in feeble wonder, “that he has a vermiform
appendix,whichisthreeandahalfincheslong?Doyouremember,Pola?Andwisdomteeth.Andhaironhisface.”“Yes,yes,”shoutedSchwartzdefiantly.“AndIwishIhadatailIcouldshow
you. I’mfromthepast. I traveled through time.Only Idon’tknowhow,and Idon’tknowwhy.Nowleavemealone.”Headdedsuddenly,“Theywillsoonbehereforus.Thiswaitisjusttobreakus.”Arvardansaidsuddenly,“Doyouknowthat?Whotoldyou?”Schwartzdidnotanswer.“WasittheSecretary?Stockymanwithapugnose?”SchwartzhadnowayoftellingthephysicalappearanceofthoseheTouched
only by mind, but—secretary? There had been just a glimpse of a Touch, apowerfuloneofamanofpower,anditseemedhehadbeenasecretary.“Balkis?”heaskedincuriosity.“What?” said Arvardan, but Shekt interrupted, “That’s the name of the
Secretary.”“Oh—Whatdidhesay?”“Hedidn’tsayanything,”saidSchwartz.“Iknow.It’sdeathforallofus,and
there’snowayout.”Arvardanloweredhisvoice.“He’smad,wouldn’tyousay?”“Iwonder....Hisskullsutures,now.Theywereprimitive,veryprimitive.”Arvardanwasamazed.“Youmean—Oh,come,it’simpossible.”“I’ve always supposed so.” For the moment Shekt’s voice was a feeble
imitation of normality, as though the presence of a scientific problem hadswitched his mind to that detached and objective groove in which personal
mattersdisappeared.“They’vecalculatedtheenergyrequiredtodisplacematteralongthetimeaxisandavaluegreaterthaninfinitywasarrivedat,sotheprojecthas always been looked upon as impossible. But others have talked of thepossibilityof‘timefaults,’analogoustogeologicalfaults,youknow.Spaceshipshavedisappeared,foronething,almostinfullview.There’sthefamouscaseofHorDevallow inancient times,whostepped intohishouseonedayandnevercameout,andwasn’tinside,either....Andthenthere’stheplanet,whichyou’llfindintheGalactographybooksofthelastcentury,whichwasvisitedbythreeexpeditionsthatbroughtbackfulldescriptions—andthenwasneverseenagain.“Thentherearecertaindevelopmentsinnuclearchemistrythatseemtodeny
the law of conservation of mass-energy. They’ve tried to explain that bypostulating the escape of somemass along the time axis.Uranium nuclei, forinstance,whenmixedwithcopperandbariuminminutebutdefiniteproportions,undertheinfluenceoflightgammairradiation,setuparesonatingsystem—”“Father,”saidPola,“don’t!There’snouse—”ButArvardan’s interruptionwas peremptory. “Wait, now.Letme think. I’m
theonewhocansettle this.Whobetter?Letmeaskhima fewquestions. . . .Look,Schwartz.”Schwartzlookedupagain.“YourswastheonlyworldintheGalaxy?”Schwartznodded,thensaiddully,“Yes.”“But you only thought that. I mean you didn’t have space travel, so you
couldn’tcheckup.Theremighthavebeenmanyotherinhabitedworlds.”“Ihavenowayoftellingthat.”“Yes,ofcourse.Apity.Whataboutatomicpower?”“We had an atomic bomb. Uranium—and plutonium—I guess that’s what
madethisworldradioactive.Theremusthavebeenanotherwarafterall—afterIleft....Atomicbombs.”SomehowSchwartzwasbackinChicago,backinhisoldworld, before the bombs.And hewas sorry.Not for himself, but for thatbeautifulworld....ButArvardanwasmutteringtohimself.Then,“Allright.Youhadalanguage,
ofcourse.”“Earth?Lotsofthem.”“Howaboutyou?”“English—afterIwasagrownman.”“Well,saysomethinginit.”FortwomonthsormoreSchwartzhadsaidnothinginEnglish.Butnow,with
lovingness,hesaidslowly,“Iwanttogohomeandbewithmyownpeople.”Arvardan spoke to Shekt. “Is that the language he used when he was
Synapsified,Shekt?”“I can’t tell,” said Shekt, in mystification. “Queer sounds then and queer
soundsnow.HowcanIrelatethem?”“Well, never mind. . . . What’s your word for ‘mother’ in your language,
Schwartz?”Schwartztoldhim.“Uh-huh.Howabout‘father’...‘brother’...‘one’—thenumeral,thatis...
‘two’...‘three’...‘house’...‘man’...‘wife’...”Thiswentonandon,andwhenArvardanpausedforbreathhisexpressionwas
oneofawedbewilderment.“Shekt,” he said, “either thisman is genuineor I’m thevictimof aswild a
nightmareascanbeconceived.He’sspeakingalanguagepracticallyequivalenttotheinscriptionsfoundinthefifty-thousand-year-oldstrataonSirius,Arcturus,AlphaCentauri, and twenty others.He speaks it. The language has only beendeciphered in the last generation, and there aren’t a dozenmen in theGalaxybesidesmyselfwhocanunderstandit.”“Areyousureofthis?”“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. I’m an archaeologist. It’smy business to
know.”ForaninstantSchwartzfelthisarmorofaloofnesscracking.Forthefirsttime
hefelthimselfregainingtheindividualityhehadlost.Thesecretwasout;hewasamanfromthepast,andtheyacceptedit.Itprovedhimsane,stilledforeverthathauntingdoubt,andhewasgrateful.Andyetheheldaloof.“I’vegot tohavehim.”ItwasArvardanagain,burning in theholyflameof
hisprofession.“Shekt,youhavenoideawhatthismeanstoarchaeology.Shekt—it’saman from thepast.Oh,GreatSpace! . . .Listen,wecanmakeadeal.ThisistheproofEarthislookingfor.Theycanhavehim.Theycan—”Schwartz interrupted sardonically. “I knowwhat you’re thinking.You think
thatEarthwillprove itself tobe thesourceofcivilization throughmeand thattheywill begrateful for it. I tell you,no! I’ve thoughtof it and Iwouldhavebarteredformyownlife.Buttheywon’tbelieveme—oryou.”“There’sabsoluteproof.”“They won’t listen. Do you know why? Because they have certain fixed
notionsaboutthepast.Anychangewouldbeblasphemyintheireyes,evenifitwerethetruth.Theydon’twantthetruth;theywanttheirtraditions.”“Bel,”saidPola,“Ithinkhe’sright.”Arvardangroundhisteeth.“Wecouldtry.”“Wewouldfail,”insistedSchwartz.“Howcanyouknow?”
“Iknow!”AndthewordsfellwithsuchoracularinsistencethatArvardanwassilentbeforethem.Itwas Shektwhowas looking at him nowwith a strange light in his tired
eyes.Heaskedsoftly,“HaveyoufeltanybadeffectsasaresultoftheSynapsifier?”Schwartzdidn’tknowthewordbutcaught themeaning.Theyhadoperated,
andonhismind.Howmuchhewaslearning!Hesaid,“Nobadeffects.”“ButIseeyoulearnedour languagerapidly.Youspeakitverywell. Infact,
youmightbeanative.Doesn’titsurpriseyou?”“Ialwayshadaverygoodmemory,”wasthecoldresponse.“Andsoyoufeelnodifferentnowthanbeforeyouweretreated?”“That’sright.”Dr.Shekt’seyeswerehardnow,andhesaid,“Whydoyoubother?Youknow
thatI’mcertainyouknowwhatI’mthinking.”Schwartzlaughedshortly.“ThatIcanreadminds?Well,whatofit?”But Shekt had dropped him. He had turned his white, helpless face to
Arvardan.“Hecansenseminds,Arvardan.HowmuchIcoulddowithhim.Andtobehere—tobehelpless...”“What—what—what—”Arvardanpoppedwildly.AndevenPola’sfacesomehowgainedinterest.“Canyoureally?”sheasked
Schwartz.Henoddedather.Shehadtakencareofhim,andnowtheywouldkillher.Yet
shewasatraitor.Shekt was saying, “Arvardan, you remember the bacteriologist I told you
about,theonewhodiedasaresultoftheeffectsoftheSynapsifier?Oneofthefirst symptoms ofmental breakdownwas his claim that he could readminds.Andhecould.Ifoundthatoutbeforehedied,andit’sbeenmysecret.I’vetoldnoone—butit’spossible,Arvardan,it’spossible.Yousee,withtheloweringofbrain-cell resistance, the brain may be able to pick up the magnetic fieldsinduced by themicrocurrents of others’ thoughts and reconvert it into similarvibrations in itself. It’s the same principle as that of any ordinary recorder. Itwouldbetelepathyineverysenseoftheword—”SchwartzmaintainedastubbornandhostilesilenceasArvardanturnedslowly
in his direction. “If this is so, Shekt, we might be able to use him.” Thearchaeologist’smindwas spinningwildly,working out impossibilities. “Theremaybeawayoutnow.Theremustbeawayout.ForusandtheGalaxy.”ButSchwartzwascoldtothetumultintheMindTouchhesensedsoclearly.
He said, “You mean by my reading their minds? How would that help? Of
courseIcandomorethanreadminds.How’sthat,forinstance?”Itwasalightpush,butArvardanyelpedatthesuddenpainofit.“Ididthat,”saidSchwartz.“Wantmore?”Arvardangasped,“Youcandothattotheguards?TotheSecretary?Whydid
youletthembringyouhere?GreatGalaxy,Shekt, there’llbenotrouble.Now,listen,Schwartz—”“No,”saidSchwartz,“youlisten.WhydoIwanttogetout?WherewillIbe?
Still on this deadworld. Iwant to go home, and I can’t go home. Iwantmypeopleandmyworld,andIcan’thavethem.AndIwanttodie.”“Butit’saquestionofalltheGalaxy,Schwartz.Youcan’tthinkofyourself.”“Can’tI?Whynot?MustIworryaboutyourGalaxynow?IhopeyourGalaxy
rotsanddies. IknowwhatEarth isplanning todo, and I amglad.Theyoungladysaidbeforeshehadchosenherside.Well,I’vechosenmyside,andmysideisEarth.”“What?”“Whynot?I’manEarthman!”
17
ChangeYourSide!
An hour had passed since Arvardan had first waded thickly out ofunconsciousnesstofindhimselfslabbedlikeasideofbeefawaitingthecleaver.And nothing had happened. Nothing but this feverish, inconclusive talk thatunbearablypassedtheunbearabletime.Noneofitlackedpurpose.Heknewthatmuch.Tolieprone,helpless,without
eventhedignityofaguard,withouteventhatmuchconcessiontoaconceivabledanger,wastobecomeconsciousofoverwhelmingweakness.Astubbornspiritcould not survive it, and when the inquisitor did arrive there would be littledefiance,ornone,forhimtobepresentedwith.Arvardanneededabreakinthesilence.Hesaid,“IsupposethisplaceisSpy-
waved.Weshouldhavetalkedless.”“Itisn’t,”cameSchwartz’svoiceflatly.“There’snobodylistening.”The archaeologist was ready with an automatic “How do you know?” but
neversaidit.Forapowerlikethattoexist!Andnotforhim,butforamanofthepastwho
calledhimselfanEarthmanandwantedtodie!Within optical sweep was only a patch of ceiling. Turning, he could see
Shekt’sangularprofile;theotherway,ablankwall.Ifheliftedhisheadhecouldmakeout,foramoment,Pola’spale,wornexpression.OccasionallytherewastheburningthoughtthathewasamanoftheEmpire
—of the Empire, by the Stars; a Galactic citizen—and that there was a
particularlyvileinjusticeinhisimprisonment,aparticularlydeepimpurityinthefactthathehadallowedEarthmentodothistohim.Andthatfadedtoo.TheymighthaveputhimnexttoPola...No,itwasbetterthisway.Hewas
notaninspiringsight.“Bel?”Theword trembled intosoundandwasstrangelysweet toArvardan,
comingasitdidinthisvortexofcomingdeath.“Yes,Pola?”“Doyouthinkthey’llbemuchlonger?”“Maybenot,darling....It’stoobad.Wewastedtwomonths,didn’twe?”“My fault,” she whispered. “My fault. We might have had these last few
minutes,though.It’sso—unnecessary.”Arvardancouldnotanswer.Hismindwhirredincirclesofthought,lostona
greasedwheel.Wasithisimagination,ordidhefeelthehardplasticonwhichhewassostifflylaid?Howlongwouldtheparalysislast?Schwartzmustbemadetohelp.Hetriedguardinghisthoughts—knewittobe
ineffective.Hesaid,“Schwartz—”
Schwartz lay there as helpless, and with an added, un-calculatedrefinementtohissuffering.Hewasfourmindsinone.By himself he might have maintained his own shrinking eagerness for the
infinitepeaceandquietofdeath,foughtdownthelastremnantsofthatloveoflife which even as recently as two days previously—three?—had sent himreelingawayfromthefarm.Buthowcouldhe?With thepoor,weakhorrorofdeaththathunglikeapalloverShekt;withthestrongchagrinandrebellionofArvardan’s hard, vitalmind;with the deep and pathetic disappointment of theyounggirl.He should have closed his own mind. What did he need to know of the
sufferingsofothers?Hehadhisownlifetolive,hisowndeathtodie.Buttheybatteredathim,softly,incessantly—probingandsiftingthroughthe
crannies.AndArvardan said, “Schwartz,” then, andSchwartz knew that theywanted
himtosavethem.Whyshouldhe?Whyshouldhe?“Schwartz,”repeatedArvardaninsinuatingly,“youcanliveahero.Youhave
nothingtodieforhere—notforthosemenoutthere.”ButSchwartzwasgathering thememoriesofhisownyouth,clutching them
desperately to his wavering mind. It was a queer amalgamation of past and
presentthatfinallybroughtforthhisindignation.Buthespokecalmly,restrainedly.“Yes,Icanliveahero—andatraitor.They
wanttokillme,thosemenoutthere.Youcallthemmen,butthatwaswithyourtongue;yourmindcalledthemsomethingIdidn’tget,but itwasvile.Andnotbecausetheywerevile,butbecausetheywereEarthmen.”“That’salie,”hotly.“Thatisnotalie,”ashotly,“andeveryonehereknowsthat.Theywanttokill
me,yes—butthatisbecausetheythinkI’moneofyourkindofpeople,whocancondemnanentireplanetatastrokeanddrenchitwithyourcontempt,chokeitslowly with your insufferable superiority.Well, protect yourself against theseworms and vermin who are somehow managing to threaten their Godlikeoverlords.Don’taskforthehelpofoneofthem.”“You talk like a Zealot,” saidArvardanwith amazement. “Why?Have you
suffered?Youwereamemberofa largeand independentplanet,yousay.YouwereanEarthmanwhenEarthwasthesolerepositoryoflife.You’reoneofus,man;oneoftherulers.Whyassociateyourselfwithadesperateremnant?Thisisnot theplanetyouremember.Myplanet ismore like theoldEarth than is thisdiseasedworld.”Schwartz laughed. “I’mone of the rulers, you say?Well,wewon’t go into
that.Itisn’tworthexplaining.Let’stakeyouinstead.You’reafinesampleoftheproductsentusbytheGalaxy.Youaretolerantandwonderfullybighearted,andadmire yourself because you treatDr. Shekt as an equal.But underneath—yetnot so far underneath that I can’t see it plainly in your mind—you areuncomfortablewithhim.Youdon’tlikethewayhetalksorthewayhelooks.Infact,youdon’tlikehim,eventhoughheisofferingtobetrayEarth....Yes,andyoukissedagirlofEarthrecentlyandlookbackuponitasaweakness.You’reashamedofit—”“BytheStars,I’mnot....Pola,”desperately,“don’tbelievehim.Don’tlisten
tohim.”Pola spokequietly. “Don’t deny it, ormakeyourself unhappy about it,Bel.
He’slookingbelowthesurfacetotheresidueofyourchildhood.Hewouldseethesame ifhe looked intomine.Hewouldsee things similar ifhecould lookintohisowninasungentlemanlyafashionasheprobesours.”Schwartzfelthimselfreddening.Pola’s voice did not rise in pitch or intensity as she addressedhimdirectly.
“Schwartz,ifyoucansenseminds,investigatemine.TellmeifIintendtreason.Lookatmyfather.SeeifitisnottruethathecouldhaveavoidedtheSixtyeasilyenoughifhehadco-operatedwiththemadmenwhowillruintheGalaxy.Whathashegainedbyhistreason?...Andlookagain,seeifanyofuswishtoharm
EarthorEarthmen.“You say you have caught a glimpse of Balkis’s mind. I don’t knowwhat
chanceyouhavehad topoke through itsdregs.Butwhenhe’sback,when it’stoolate,siftit,strainhisthoughts.Findoutthathe’samadman—Then,die!”Schwartzwassilent.Arvardanbrokeinhurriedly,“Allright,Schwartz,tacklemymindnow.Goas
deepasyouwant.IwasbornonBaronnintheSiriusSector.Ilivedmylifeinanatmosphere of anti-Terrestrialism in the formative years, so I can’t help whatflawsandfollieslieattherootsofmysubconscious.Butlookonthesurfaceandtellmeif,inmyadultyears,Ihavenotfoughtbigotryinmyself.Notinothers;thatwouldbeeasy.Butinmyself,andashardasIcould.“Schwartz,youdon’tknowourhistory!Youdon’tknowofthethousandsand
tensofthousandsofyearsinwhichManspreadthroughtheGalaxy—ofthewarsandmisery.Youdon’tknowofthefirstcenturiesoftheEmpire,whenstilltherewasmerelyaconfusionofalternatingdespotismandchaos.Itisonlyinthelasttwo hundred years, now, that our Galactic government has become arepresentative one. Under it the various worlds are allowed their culturalautonomy—havebeenallowedtogovernthemselves—havebeenallowedvoicesinthecommonruleofall.“At no time in history hasHumanity been as free fromwar and poverty as
now;atnotimehasGalacticeconomybeensowiselyadjusted;atnotimehaveprospectsforthefuturebeenasbright.Wouldyoudestroyitandbeginallover?And with what? A despotic theocracy with only the unhealthy elements ofsuspicionandhatredinit.“Earth’s grievance is legitimate and will be solved someday, if the Galaxy
lives. But what they will do is no solution. Do you know what they intenddoing?”IfArvardan had had the ability that had come to Schwartz, hewould have
detectedthestruggleinSchwartz’smind.Intuitively,however,heknewthetimehadcometohaltforamoment.Schwartz was moved. All those worlds to die—to fester and dissolve in
horribledisease...WasheanEarthmanafterall?SimplyanEarthman?Inhisyouth he had leftEurope and gone toAmerica, butwas he not the samemandespite that?And if after himmen had left a torn andwounded earth for theworldsbeyond the sky,were they lessEarthmen?Wasnot all theGalaxyhis?Werenottheyall—all—descendedfromhimselfandhisbrothers?Hesaidheavily,“Allright,I’mwithyou.HowcanIhelp?”“How far out can you reach for minds?” asked Arvardan eagerly, with a
hasteningquicknessasthoughafraidstillofalastchangeofmind.
“Idon’tknow.Therearemindsoutside.Guards,Isuppose.IthinkIcanreachoutintothestreeteven,butthefartherIgo,thelesssharpitbecomes.”“Naturally,”saidArvardan.“ButhowabouttheSecretary?Couldyouidentify
hismind?”“Idon’tknow,”mumbledSchwartz.Apause...Theminutesstretchedbyunbearably.Schwartz said, “Your minds are in the way. Don’t watch me. Think of
somethingelse.”Theytriedto.Anotherpause.Then,“No—Ican’t—Ican’t.”Arvardansaidwithasuddenintensity,“Icanmoveabit—GreatGalaxy,Ican
wigglemyfeet....Ouch!”Eachmotionwasasavagetwinge.Hesaid,“Howhardcanyouhurt someone,Schwartz?Canyoudo itharder
thanthewayyouhurtmeawhileback,Imean?”“I’vekilledaman.”“Youhave?Howdidyoudothat?”“I don’t know. It just gets done. It’s—it’s—” Schwartz looked almost
comicallyhelplessinhisefforttoputthewordlessintowords.“Well,canyouhandlemorethanoneatatime?”“I’venevertried,butIdon’tthinkso.Ican’treadtwomindsatonetime.”Polainterrupted.“Youcan’thavehimkilltheSecretary,Bel.Itwon’twork.”“Whynot?”“Howwillwegetout?EvenifwecaughttheSecretaryaloneandkilledhim,
therewouldbehundredswaitingforusoutside.Don’tyouseethat?”ButSchwartzbrokein,huskily,“I’vegothim.”“Whom?”Itcamefromallthree.EvenShektwasstaringwildlyathim.“TheSecretary.Ithinkit’shisMindTouch.”“Don’tlethimgo.”Arvardanalmostrolledoverinhisattemptsatexhortation,
and tumbled off the slab, thumping to the floor with one half-paralyzed legworkingfutilelytowedgeunderneathhisbodyandlift.Pola cried, “You’re hurt!” and suddenly found the hinges of her arm
uncreakingasshetriedtoliftherelbow.“No,it’sallright.Suckhimdry,Schwartz.Getalltheinformationyoucan.”Schwartzreachedoutuntilhisheadached.Heclutchedandclawedwith the
tendrilsofhisownmind,blindly,clumsily—likeaninfantthrustingoutfingersitcan’t quite handle for an object it can’t quite reach. Until now he had takenwhateverhecouldfind,butnowhewaslooking—looking—Painfully,hecaughtwisps.“Triumph!He’ssureoftheresults....Something
aboutspacebullets.He’sstartedthem....No,notstarted.Somethingelse....He’sgoingtostartthem.”
Shekt groaned. “They’re automatically guided missiles to carry the virus,Arvardan.Aimedatthevariousplanets.”“Butwherearetheykept,Schwartz?”insistedArvardan.“Look,man,look—”“There’s abuilding I—can’t—quite—see. . . .Fivepoints—a star—aname;
Sloo,maybe—”Shektbrokeinagain.“That’s it.Byall thestars in theGalaxy, that’s it.The
TempleofSenloo. It’s surroundedby radioactivepocketson all sides.NoonewouldevergotherebuttheAncients.Isitnearthemeetingoftwolargerivers,Schwartz?”“Ican’t—Yes—yes—yes.”“When,Schwartz,when?Whenwilltheybesetoff?”“Ican’tseetheday,butsoon—soon.Hismindisburstingwiththat—Itwillbe
verysoon.”Hisownheadseemedburstingwiththeeffort.Arvardanwasdryand feverishashe raisedhimself finally tohishandsand
knees,thoughtheywobbledandgaveunderhim.“Ishecoming?”“Yes.He’satthedoor.”Hisvoicesankandstoppedasthedooropened.Balkis’svoicewasoneofcoldderisionashefilledtheroomwithsuccessand
triumph.“Dr.Arvardan!Hadyounotbetterreturntoyourseat?”Arvardan looked up at him, conscious of the cruel indignity of his own
position, but there was no answer to make, and he made none. Slowly heallowedhisachinglimbstolowerhimtotheground.Hewaitedthere,breathingheavily.Ifhislimbscouldreturnabitmore,ifhecouldmakealastlunge,ifhecouldsomehowseizetheother’sweapons—That was no neuronic whip that dangled so gently from the smoothly
gleamingFlexiplastbeltthatheldtheSecretary’srobeinplace.Itwasafull-sizeblasterthatcouldshredamantoatomsinaninstantaneouspointoftime.TheSecretarywatchedthefourbeforehimwithasavagesenseofsatisfaction.
Thegirlhetendedtoignore,butotherwiseitwasacleansweep.TherewastheEarthmantraitor;theretheImperialagent;andtherethemysteriouscreaturetheyhadbeenwatchingfortwomonths.Werethereanyothers?Tobesure,therewasstillEnnius,andtheEmpire.Theirarms,inthepersonof
these spies and traitors, were pinioned, but there remained an active brainsomewhere—perhapstosendoutotherarms.TheSecretary stood easily, hands clasped in contemptuousdisregardof any
possiblenecessityofquicklyreachinghisweapon.Hespokequietlyandgently.“Nowitisnecessarytomakethingsabsolutelyclear.ThereiswarbetweenEarthandtheGalaxy—undeclaredasyet,but,nevertheless,war.Youareourprisonersandwillbe treatedaswillbenecessaryunder thecircumstances.Naturally the
recognizedpunishmentforspiesandtraitorsisdeath—”“Onlyinthecaseoflegalanddeclaredwar,”brokeinArvardanfiercely.“Legal war?” questioned the Secretary with more than a trace of a sneer.
“Whatislegalwar?EarthhasalwaysbeenatwarwiththeGalaxy,whetherwemadepolitementionofthefactornot.”“Don’tbotherwithhim,”saidPolatoArvardansoftly.“Lethimhavehissay
andfinishwithit.”Arvardansmiledinherdirection.Aqueer,spasmodicsmile,foritwaswitha
vaststrainthathestaggeredtohisfeetandremainedthere,gasping.Balkislaughedsoftly.Withunhurriedstepsheshortenedthedistancebetween
himself and the Sirian archaeologist to nothing. With an equally unhurriedgestureherestedasofthanduponthebroadchestoftheotherandshoved.With splintering arms that would not respond to Arvardan’s demand for a
wardingmotion,with stagnant trunkmuscles that could not adjust the body’sbalanceatmorethansnailspeed,Arvardantoppled.Polagasped.Lashingherownrebelliousfleshandbone,shedescendedfrom
herparticularbenchslowly—soslowly.BalkislethercrawltowardArvardan.“Yourlover,”hesaid.“YourstrongOutsiderlover.Runtohim,girl!Whydo
youwait?Claspyourhero tightlyand forget inhis arms thathe steams in thesweat and blood of a billionmartyred Earthmen. And there he lies, bold andvaliant—broughttoEarthbythegentlepushofanEarthman’shand.”Polawasonherkneesbesidehimnow,her fingersprobingbeneath thehair
forbloodorthedeadlysoftnessofcrushedbone.Arvardan’seyesopenedslowlyandhislipsformeda“Nevermind!”“He’sacoward,”saidPola,“whowouldfightaparalyzedmanandboasthis
victory.Believeme,darling,fewEarthmenarelikethat.”“Iknowit,oryouwouldnotbeanEarthwoman.”TheSecretarystiffened.“AsIsaid,allliveshereareforfeit,but,nevertheless,
canbebought.Areyouinterestedintheprice?”Polasaidproudly,“Inourcase,youwouldbe.ThatIknow.”“Ssh,Pola.”Arvardanhadnotyetrecoveredhisbreathentirely.“Whatareyou
proposing?”“Oh,” said Balkis, “you are willing to sell yourself? As I would be, for
instance?I,avileEarthman?”“Youknowbestwhatyouare,”retortedArvardan.“Asfortherest,Iamnot
sellingmyself;Iambuyingher.”“Irefusetobebought,”saidPola.“Touching,” grated the Secretary. “He stoops to our females, our Earthie-
squaws—andcanstillplay-actatsacrifice.”“Whatareyouproposing?”demandedArvardan.“This.Obviously,wordofourplanshasleakedout.HowitgottoDr.Shektis
notdifficult tosee,buthowitgot to theEmpire ispuzzling.Wewouldlike toknow, therefore, justwhat theEmpiredoesknow.Notwhatyouhave learned,Arvardan,butwhattheEmpirenowknows.”“I am an archaeologist and not a spy,” bit out Arvardan. “I don’t know
anythingatallaboutwhattheEmpireknows—butIhopetheyknowadamnedlot.”“SoIimagine.Well,youmaychangeyourmind.Think,allofyou.”Throughout,Schwartzhadcontributednothing;norhadheraisedhiseyes.TheSecretarywaited, then said,perhapsa trifle savagely, “Then I’lloutline
thepricetoyouofyournon-co-operation.Itwillnotbesimplydeath,sinceIamquite certain that all of you are prepared for that unpleasant and inevitableeventuality.Dr.Shektandthegirl,hisdaughter,who,unfortunatelyforherself,isimplicatedtoadeadlyextent,arecitizensofEarth.Underthecircumstances,itwill be most appropriate to have both subjected to the Synapsifier. Youunderstand,Dr.Shekt?”Thephysicist’seyeswerepoolsofpurehorror.“Yes, I see you do,” said Balkis. “It is, of course, possible to allow the
Synapsifiertodamagebraintissuejustsufficientlytoallowtheproductionofanacerebralimbecile.Itisamostdisgustingstate:oneinwhichyouwillhavetobefed,orstarve;becleaned,orliveindung;beshutup,orremainastudyinhorrortoallwhosee.Itmaybealessontoothersinthegreatdaythatiscoming.“As for you”—and the Secretary turned to Arvardan—“and your friend
Schwartz, you are Imperial citizens, and therefore suitable for an interestingexperiment.Wehavenever tried our concentrated fever virus onyouGalacticdogs.Itwouldbeinterestingtoshowourcalculationscorrect.Asmalldose,yousee,sothatdeathisnotquick.Thediseasemightworkitswaytotheinevitableover a period of aweek, ifwe dilute the injection sufficiently. Itwill be verypainful.”Andnowhepausedandwatchedthemthroughslittedeyes.“Allthat,”hesaid,
“is the alternative to a fewwell-chosenwords at the present time.Howmuchdoes theEmpireknow?Have theyother agents active at thepresentmoment?Whataretheirplans,ifany,forcounteraction?”Dr.Shektmuttered,“Howdoweknowthatyouwon’thaveuskilledanyway,
onceyouhavewhatyouwantofus?”“Youhavemyassurancethatyouwilldiehorriblyifyourefuse.Youwillhave
togambleonthealternative.Whatdoyousay?”
“Can’twehavetime?”“Isn’tthatwhatI’mgivingyounow?TenminuteshavepassedsinceIentered,
andIamstilllistening....Well,haveyouanythingtosay?What,nothing?Timewillnotendureforever,youmustrealize.Arvardan,youstillknotyourmuscles.YouthinkperhapsyoucanreachmebeforeIcandrawmyblaster.Well,whatifyoucan?There arehundredsoutside, andmyplanswill continuewithoutme.Evenyourseparatemodesofpunishmentwillcontinuewithoutme.“Or perhaps you, Schwartz. You killed our agent. It was you, was it not?
Perhapsyouthinkyoucankillme?”For the first time Schwartz looked at Balkis. He said coldly, “I can, but I
won’t.”“Thatiskindofyou.”“Notatall.Itisverycruelofme.Yousayyourselfthattherearethingsworse
thansimpledeath.”ArvardanfoundhimselfsuddenlystaringatSchwartzinavasthope.
18
Duel!
Schwartz’smindwaswhirling. In a queer, hectic way he felt at ease.Therewasapieceofhim that seemed inabsolutecontrolof thesituation,andmoreofhimthatcouldnotbelievethat.Paralysishadbeenappliedlatertohimthan to the others.EvenDr. Shektwas sitting up,while he himself could justbudgeanarmandlittlemore.And, staring up at the leering mind of the Secretary, infinitely foul and
infinitelyevil,hebeganhisduel.Hesaid,“Iwasonyoursideoriginally,forallthatyouwerepreparingtokill
me.IthoughtIunderstoodyourfeelingsandyourintentions....Butthemindsof these others here are relatively innocent and pure, and yours is pastdescription.ItisnotevenfortheEarthmanyoufight,butforyourownpersonalpower.IseeinyounotavisionofafreeEarth,butofare-enslavedEarth.IseeinyounotthedisruptionoftheImperialpower,butitsreplacementbyapersonaldictatorship.”“Youseeallthat,doyou?”saidBalkis.“Well,seewhatyouwish.Idon’tneed
yourinformationafterall,youknow—notsobadlythatImustendureinsolence.We have advanced the hour of striking, it seems. Had you expected that?Amazingwhat pressurewill do, even on thosewho swear thatmore speed isimpossible.Didyouseethat,mydramaticmindreader?”Schwartzsaid,“Ididn’t.Iwasn’tlookingforit,anditpassedmynotice....
But I can look for it now. Two days—Less—Let’s see—Tuesday—six in the
morning—Chicatime.”TheblasterwasintheSecretary’shand,finally.Headvancedinabruptstrides
andtoweredoverSchwartz’sdroopingfigure.“Howdidyouknowthat?”Schwartz stiffened; somewhere mental tendrils bunched and grasped.
Physically his jaw muscles clamped rigorously shut and his eyebrows curledlow,but thesewerepurely irrelevant—involuntaryaccompaniments to the realeffort.Withinhisbrain therewasthatwhichreachedoutandseizedhardupontheMindTouchoftheother.ToArvardan, forprecious,wasting seconds, the scenewasmeaningless; the
Secretary’ssuddenmotionlesssilencewasnotsignificant.Schwartzmutteredgaspingly,“I’vegothim. . . .Takeawayhisgun. Ican’t
holdon—”Itdiedawayinagurgle.AndthenArvardanunderstood.Withalurchhewasonallfours.Thenslowly,
grindingly,heliftedhimselfoncemore,bymainforce,toanunsteadyerectness.Pola tried to risewith him, could not quitemake it. Shekt edged off his slab,sinkingtohisknees.OnlySchwartzlaythere,hisfaceworking.TheSecretarymighthavebeenstruckbytheMedusasight.Onhissmoothand
unfurrowed forehead perspiration gathered slowly, and his expressionless facehintedofnoemotion.Onlythatrighthand,holdingtheblaster,showedanysignsoflife.Watchclosely,andyoumightseeitjerkeversogently;notethecuriousflexingpressureofituponthecontactbutton:agentlepressure,notenoughtodoharm,butreturning,andreturning—“Holdhimtight,”gaspedArvardanwithaferociousjoy.Hesteadiedhimself
onthebackofachairandtriedtogainhisbreath.“Letmegettohim.”Hisfeetdragged.Hewasinanightmare,wadingthroughmolasses,swimming
throughtar;pullingwithtornmuscles,soslowly—soslowly.He was not—could not be—conscious of the terrific duel that proceeded
beforehim.TheSecretaryhadonlyoneaim,andthatwastoputjustthetiniestforceinto
his thumb—three ounces, to be exact, since that was the contact pressurerequired for the blaster’s operation. To do so his mind had only to instruct aquiveringlybalancedtendon,alreadyhalfcontracted,to—to—Schwartzhadonlyoneaim,andthatwastorestrainthatpressure—butinall
theinchoatemassofsensationpresentedtohimbytheother’sMindTouch,hecouldnotknowwhichparticularareawasaloneconcernedwiththatthumb.Soitwasthathebenthiseffortstoproduceastasis,acompletestasis—TheSecretary’sMindTouchheaved andbillowedagainst restraint. Itwas a
quickandfearfully intelligentmind thatconfrontedSchwartz’suntriedcontrol.
Forsecondsitremainedquiescent,waiting—then,inaterrific,tearingattempt,itwouldtugwildlyatthismuscleorthat—To Schwartz it was as if he had seized a wrestling hold which he must
maintainatallcosts,thoughhisopponentthrewhimaboutinfrenzies.But none of this showed. Only the nervous clenching and unclenching of
Schwartz’s jaw; the quivering lips, bloodied by the biting teeth—and thatoccasional soft movement on the part of the Secretary’s thumb, straining—straining.Arvardan paused to rest. He did not want to. He had to. His outstretched
fingerjusttouchedthefabricoftheSecretary’stunicandhefelthecouldmovenomore.Hisagonizedlungscouldnotpumpthebreathhisdeadlimbsrequired.Hiseyeswereblurredwiththetearsofeffort,hismindwiththehazeofpain.Hegasped,“Justafewmoreminutes,Schwartz.Holdhim,holdhim—”Slowly,slowly,Schwartzshookhishead.“Ican’t—Ican’t—”Andindeed,toSchwartzalltheworldwasslippingawayintodull,unfocused
chaos.Thetendrilsofhismindwerebecomingstiffandnonresilient.TheSecretary’s thumbpressedonceagainuponthecontact. Itdidnotrelax.
Thepressuregrewbytinystages.Schwartzcouldfeelthebulgingofhisowneyeballs,thewrithingexpansionof
theveinsinhisforehead.Hecouldsensetheawfultriumphthatgatheredinthemindoftheother—ThenArvardan lunged.Hisstiffand rebelliousbody toppled forward,hands
outstretchedandclawing.The yielding, mind-held Secretary toppled with him. The blaster flew
sideways,clangingalongthehardfloor.TheSecretary’smindwrenchedfreealmostsimultaneously,andSchwartzfell
back,hisownskullatangledjungleofconfusion.BalkisstruggledwildlybeneaththeclingingdeadweightofArvardan’sbody.
Hejerkedakneeintotheother’sgroinwithaviciousstrengthwhilehisclenchedfist camedown sideways onArvardan’s cheekbone.He lifted and thrust—andArvardanrolledoffinhuddledagony.The Secretary staggered to his feet, panting and disheveled, and stopped
again.FacinghimwasShekt,halfreclining.Hisrighthand,shakinglysupportedby
the left, was holding the blaster, and although it quivered, the business endpointedattheSecretary.“You pack of fools,” shrilled the Secretary, passion-choked, “what do you
expecttogain?Ihaveonlytoraisemyvoice—”“Andyou,atleast,”respondedShektweakly,“willdie.”
“Youwillaccomplishnothingbykillingme,”saidtheSecretarybitterly,“andyou know it.Youwill not save theEmpire youwould betray us to—and youwouldnotsaveevenyourselves.Givemethatgunandyouwillgofree.”He extended a hand, butShekt laughedwistfully. “I amnotmad enough to
believethat.”“Perhapsnot,butyouarehalfparalyzed.”AndtheSecretarybrokesharplyto
theright,farfasterthanthephysicist’sfeeblewristcouldveertheblaster.But now Balkis’s mind, as he tensed for the final jump, was utterly and
entirelyontheblasterhewasavoiding.Schwartzextendedhismindonceagainin a final jab, and the Secretary tripped and slammed downward as if he hadbeenclubbed.Arvardanhadrisenpainfullytohisfeet.Hischeekwasredandswollenandhe
hobbledwhenhewalked.Hesaid,“Canyoumove,Schwartz?”“Alittle,”camethetiredresponse.Schwartzslidoutofhisseat.“Anyoneelsecomingthisway,maybe?”“NotthatIcandetect.”ArvardansmiledgrimlydownatPola.Hishandwasrestingonhersoftbrown
hairandshewaslookingupathimwithbrimmingeyes.Severaltimesinthelasttwohourshehadbeensure thatnever,neverwouldhefeelherhairorseehereyesagain.“Maybetherewillbealaterafterall,Pola?”And she could only shake her head and say, “There’s not enough time.We
onlyhavetillsixo’clockTuesday.”“Notenoughtime?Well,let’ssee.”ArvardanbentovertheproneAncientand
pulledhisheadback,nonetoogently.“Ishealive?”He felt futilely for apulsewithhis still-numb finger tipsand
then placed a palm beneath the green robe. He said, “His heart’s beating,anyway....You’veadangerouspowerthere,Schwartz.Whydidn’tyoudothisinthefirstplace?”“BecauseIwantedtoseehimheldstatic.”Schwartzclearlyshowedtheeffects
ofhisordeal.“IthoughtthatifIcouldholdhim,wecouldleadhimoutbefore;usehimasdecoy;hidebehindhisskirts.”Shektsaid,insuddenanimation,“Wemight.There’stheImperialgarrisonin
FortDibburnnothalfamileaway.Oncethere,we’resafeandcangetwordtoEnnius.”“Once there! Theremust be a hundred guards outside,with hundredsmore
between here and there—Andwhat canwe dowith a stiff green-robe? Carryhim?Shovehimalongonlittlewheels?”Arvardanlaughedhumorlessly.“Besides,”saidSchwartzgloomily,“Icouldn’tholdhimverylong.Yousaw
—Ifailed.”Shekt said earnestly, “Because you’re not used to it. Now listen, Schwartz,
I’vegotanotionastowhatitisyoudowithyourmind.It’sareceivingstationfortheelectromagneticfieldsofthebrain.Ithinkyoucantransmitalso.Doyouunderstand?”Schwartzseemedpainfullyuncertain.“Youmustunderstand,” insistedShekt. “You’llhave toconcentrateonwhat
youwanthimtodo—andfirstwe’regoingtogivehimhisblasterback.”“What!”Theoutragedexclamationwasneatlytriple.Shekt raised his voice. “He’s got to lead us out of here.We can’t get out
otherwise,canwe?Andhowcanitlooklesssuspiciousthantoallowhimtobeobviouslyarmed?”“But I couldn’t hold him. I tell you I couldn’t.” Schwartz was flexing his
arms,slappingthem,tryingtogetbackintothefeelofnormality.“Idon’tcarewhatyourtheoriesare,Dr.Shekt.Youdon’tknowwhatgoeson.It’saslippery,painfulthing,andit’snoteasy.”“Iknow,butit’sthechancewetake.Tryitnow,Schwartz.Havehimmovehis
armwhenhecomesto.”Shekt’svoicewaspleading.TheSecretarymoaned as he lay there, andSchwartz felt the revivingMind
Touch. Silently, almost fearfully, he let it gather strength—then spoke to it. Itwasaspeechthatincludednowords;itwasthesilentspeechyousendtoyourarmwhenyouwantittomove,aspeechsosilentyouarenotyourselfawareofit.And Schwartz’s arm did not move; it was the Secretary’s that did. The
Earthmanfromthepastlookedupwithawildsmile,buttheothershadeyesonlyforBalkis—Balkis, that recumbent figure,with a lifting head,with eyes fromwhichtheglazeofunconsciousnesswasvanishing,andanarmwhichpeculiarlyandincongruouslyjerkedoutwardataninety-degreeangle.Schwartzbenttohistask.The Secretary lifted himself up in angular fashion; nearly, but not quite,
overbalancinghimself.Andthen,inaqueerandinvoluntaryway,hedanced.Itlackedrhythm;itlackedbeauty;buttothethreewhowatchedthebody,and
toSchwartz,whowatchedbodyandmind,itwasathingofindescribableawe.ForinthosemomentstheSecretary’sbodywasunderthecontrolofamindnotmateriallyconnectedwithit.Slowly,cautiously,ShektapproachedtherobotlikeSecretaryand,notwithout
aqualm,extendedhishand.Intheopenpalmthereoflaytheblaster,buttfirst.“Lethimtakeit,Schwartz,”saidShekt.Balkis’s hand reached out and grasped theweapon clumsily. For amoment
therewas a sharp, devouring glitter in his eyes, and then it all faded. Slowly,slowly,theblasterwasputintoitsplaceinthebelt,andthehandfellaway.Schwartz’slaughwashigh-pitched.“Healmostgotaway,there.”Buthisface
waswhiteashespoke.“Well?Canyouholdhim?”“He’sfightinglikethedevil.Butit’snotasbadasbefore.”“That’s because you know what you’re doing,” said Shekt, with an
encouragementhedidnotentirelyfeel.“Transmit,now.Don’t try toholdhim;justpretendyou’redoingityourself.”Arvardanbrokein.“Canyoumakehimtalk?”There was a pause, then a low, rasping growl from the Secretary. Another
pause;anotherrasp.“That’sall,”pantedSchwartz.“Butwhywon’titwork?”askedPola.Shelookedworried.Shektshrugged.“Someprettydelicateandcomplicatedmusclesareinvolved.
It’snot likeyankingat the longlimbmuscles.Nevermind,Schwartz.Wemaygetbywithout.”Thememoryof thenext two hourswas something no two of those thattook part in the queer odyssey could duplicate. Dr. Shekt, for instance, hadacquiredaqueerrigidity inwhichallhisfearsweredrownedinonebreathlessand helpless sympathywith the inwardly struggling Schwartz. Throughout hehadeyesonlyforthatroundfaceasitslowlyfurrowedandtwistedwitheffort.Fortheothershehadhardlytimeformorethanamoment’sglance.Theguardsimmediatelyoutsidethedoorsalutedsharplyattheappearanceof
theSecretary,hisgreen robe redolentofofficialdomandpower.TheSecretaryreturnedthesaluteinafumbling,flatmanner.Theypassed,unmolested.ItwasonlywhentheyhadleftthegreatHallthatArvardanbecameconscious
of themadnessof itall.Thegreat,unimaginabledanger to theGalaxyand theflimsyreedofsafetythatbridged,perhaps,theabyss.Yeteventhen,eventhen,ArvardanfelthimselfdrowninginPola’seyes.Whetheritwasthelifethatwasbeing snatched from him, the future that was being destroyed about him, theeternalunavailabilityof the sweetnesshehad tasted—whatever itwas,noonehadeverseemedtohimtobesocompletelyanddevastatinglydesirable.Inaftertimeshewasthesumofhismemories.Onlythegirl—And upon Pola the sunny brightness of the morning burned down so that
Arvardan’sdownturnedfaceblurredbeforeher.Shesmiledupathimandwasconsciousofthatstrong,hardarmonwhichherownrestedsolightly.Thatwas
thememorythatlingeredafterward.Flat,firmmusclelightlycoveredbyglossy-texturedplasticcloth,smoothandcoolunderherwrist—Schwartzwasinasweatingagony.Thecurvingdrivethatledawayfromthe
sideentrancefromwhichtheyhademergedwaslargelyempty.Forthathewashugelythankful.Schwartz alone knew the full cost of failure. In the enemy Mind that he
controlledhecouldsensetheunbearablehumiliation,thesurpassinghatred,theutterly horrible resolves. He had to search thatMind for the information thatguidedhim—thepositionof theofficialgroundcar, theproper route to take—And, insearching,healsoexperienced thegallingbitternessof thedeterminedrevengethatwouldlashoutshouldhiscontrolwaverforbutthetenthpartofthesecond.The secret fastnesses of the Mind in which he was forced to rummage
remainedhispersonalpossessionforever.Inaftertimestherecamethepalegrayhours ofmany an innocent dawn duringwhich once again he had guided thestepsofamadmandownthedangerouswalksofanenemystronghold.Schwartzgaspedatthewordswhentheyreachedthegroundcar.Henolonger
dared relax sufficiently to utter connected sentences. He choked out quickphrases: “Can’t—drive car—can’t make—him—make drive—complicated—can’t—”Shektsoothedhimwithasoft,cluckingsound.Hedarednottouchhim,dared
notspeakinanordinaryway,darednotdistractSchwartz’smindforasecond.Hewhispered,“Justgethim into thebackseat,Schwartz. I’lldrive. Iknow
how.Fromnowonjustkeephimstill,andI’lltaketheblasteraway.”TheSecretary’sgroundcarwasaspecialmodel.Becauseitwasspecial,itwasdifferent.Itattractedattention.Itsgreenheadlightturnedtotherightandleft inrhythmicswingsas the lightdimmedandbrightenedinemeraldflashes.Menpausedtowatch.Groundcarsadvancingintheoppositedirectionmovedtothesideinarespectfulhurry.Had the car been less noticed, had it been less obtrusive, the occasional
passerbymighthavehad time tonote thepale, unmovingAncient in thebackseat—mighthavewondered—mighthavescenteddanger—Buttheynoticedonlythecar,sothattimepassed....Asoldierblockedthewayatthegleamingchromiumgatesthatrosesheerlyin
the expansive, overwhelmingway thatmarked all Imperial structures in sharpcontrast to the squatly massive and brooding architecture of Earth. His hugeforcegunshotouthorizontallyinabarringgesture,andthecarhalted.
Arvardanleanedout.“I’macitizenoftheEmpire,soldier.I’dliketoseeyourcommandingofficer.”“I’llhavetoseeyouridentification,sir.”“That’sbeentakenfromme.IamBelArvardanofBaronn,Sirius.Iamonthe
Procurator’sbusinessandI’minahurry.”The soldier lifted awrist tohismouthand spoke softly into the transmitter.
Therewasapausewhilehewaitedforananswer,andthenheloweredhisrifleandsteppedaside.Slowlythegateswungopen.
19
TheDeadlineThatApproached
ThehoursthatfollowedsawturmoilwithinandwithoutFortDibburn.Moreso,perhaps,inChicaitself.ItwasatnoonthattheHighMinisteratWashenninquiredviaCommuni-wave
after his Secretary, and a search for the latter failed. The HighMinister wasdispleased;theminorofficialsattheHallofCorrectionwereperturbed.Questioningfollowed,andtheguardsoutsidetheassemblyroomweredefinite
thattheSecretaryhadleftwiththeprisonersatten-thirtyinthemorning....No,hehad leftno instructions.Theycouldnotsaywherehewasgoing; itwas,ofcourse,nottheirplacetoask.Anothersetofguardswasequallyuninformedanduninformative.Ageneral
airofanxietymountedandswirled.At2p.m.thefirstreportarrivedthattheSecretary’sgroundcarhadbeenseen
thatmorning—noonehad seen if theSecretarywaswithin—some thought hehadbeendriving,buthadonlyassumedit,itturnedout—Bytwo-thirtyithadbeenascertainedthatthecarhadenteredFortDibburn.Atnotquitethree,itwasfinallydecidedtoputinacalltothecommanderof
thefort.Alieutenanthadanswered.Itwasimpossibleatthattime,theylearned,forinformationonthesubjectto
be given. However, His Imperial Majesty’s officers requested that order bemaintainedforthepresent.Itwasfurtherrequestedthatnewsoftheabsenceofamember of the Society of Ancients be not generally distributed until further
notice.ButthatwasenoughtoachievethedirectoppositeoftheImperialdesires.Menengagedintreasoncannottakechanceswhenoneoftheprimemembers
of a conspiracy is in the hands of the enemy forty-eight hours before triggertime.Itcanmeanonlydiscoveryorbetrayal,andthesearebutthereversesidesofasinglecoin.Eitheralternativewouldmeandeath.Sowordwentout—AndthepopulationofChicastirred—Theprofessionaldemagogueswereonthestreetcorners.Thesecretarsenals
werebrokenopenandthehandsthatreachedwithdrewwithweapons.Therewasa twisting drift toward the fort, and at 6 p.m. a newmessagewas sent to thecommandant,thistimebypersonalenvoy.Meanwhile,thisactivitywasmatchedinasmallerwaybyeventswithinthefort.IthadbegundramaticallywhentheyoungofficermeetingtheenteringgroundcarreachedoutahandfortheSecretary’sblaster.“I’lltakethat,”hesaidcurtly.Shektsaid,“Lethimtakeit,Schwartz.”TheSecretary’shandliftedtheblasterandstretchedout;theblasterleftit,was
carriedaway—andSchwartz,withaheavingsobofbreakingtension,letgo.Arvardanwasready.When theSecretary lashedout likean insanesteelcoil
releasedfromcompression,thearchaeologistpounceduponhim,fistspumpingdownhard.Theofficersnappedoutorders.Soldierswererunningup.Whenroughhands
laidholdofArvardan’sshirtcollaranddraggedhimup,theSecretarywaslimpupon the seat. Dark blood was flowing feebly from the corner of his mouth.Arvardan’sownalreadybruisedcheekwasopenandbleeding.Hestraightenedhishairshakily.Then,pointingarigidfinger,saidfirmly,“I
accuse thatman of conspiring to overthrow the Imperial Government. I musthaveanimmediateinterviewwiththecommandingofficer.”“We’llhavetoseeaboutthat,sir,”saidtheofficercivilly.“Ifyoudon’tmind,
youwillhavetofollowme—allofyou.”And there, for hours, it rested. Their quarters were private, and reasonably
clean.Forthefirsttimeintwelvehourstheyhadachancetoeat,whichtheydid,despite considerations, with dispatch and efficiency. They even had theopportunityofthatfurthernecessityofcivilization,abath.Yettheroomwasguarded,andasthehourspassed,Arvardanfinallylosthis
temperandcried,“Butwe’vesimplyexchangedprisons.”
Thedull,meaningless routineofanarmycampdriftedabout them, ignoringthem.SchwartzwassleepingandArvardan’seyeswenttohim.Shektshookhishead.“Wecan’t,”hesaid.“It’shumanlyimpossible.Themanisexhausted.Lethim
sleep.”“Butthereareonlythirty-ninehoursleft.”“Iknow—butwait.”A cool and faintly sardonic voice sounded. “Which of you claims to be a
citizenoftheEmpire?”Arvardansprangforward.“Iam.I—”Andhisvoice failed ashe recognized the speaker.The latter smiledrigidly.
Hisleftarmheheldabitstifflyasaremainingmementooftheirlastmeeting.Pola’s voice was faint behind him. “Bel, it’s the officer—the one of the
departmentstore.”“The one whose arm he broke,” came the sharp addition. “My name is
LieutenantClaudyandyes,youarethesameman.SoyouareamemberoftheSirianworlds, are you?And yet you consortwith these.Galaxy, the depths amancansinkto!Andyou’vestillgotthegirlwithyou.”Hewaitedandthensaidslowlyanddeliberately,“TheEarthie-squaw!”Arvardanbristled,thensubsided.Hecouldn’t—notyet—Heforcedhumblenessintohisvoice.“MayIseethecolonel,Lieutenant?”“Thecolonel,Iamafraid,isnotondutynow.”“Youmeanhe’snotinthecity?”“Ididn’tsaythat.Hecanbereached—ifthematterissufficientlyurgent.”“Itis....MayIseetheofficeroftheday?”“AtthemomentIamtheofficeroftheday.”“Thencallthecolonel.”And slowly the lieutenant shook his head. “I could scarcely do so without
beingconvincedofthegravityofthesituation.”Arvardanwasshakingwithimpatience.“BytheGalaxy,stopfencingwithme!
It’slifeanddeath.”“Really?” Lieutenant Claudy swung a little swagger stick with an air of
affecteddandyism.“Youmightcraveanaudiencewithme.”“Allright....Well,I’mwaiting.”“Isaid—youmightcraveone.”“MayIhaveanaudience,Lieutenant?”Buttherewasnosmileonthelieutenant’sface.“Isaid,craveone—beforethe
girl.Humbly.”Arvardanswallowedanddrewback.Pola’shandwasonhissleeve.“Please,
Bel.Youmustn’tgethimangry.”The archaeologist growled huskily, “Bel Arvardan of Sirius humbly craves
audiencewiththeofficeroftheday.”LieutenantClaudysaid,“Thatdepends.”HetookasteptowardArvardanandquicklyandviciouslybroughttheflatof
hispalmdownharduponthebandagethatdressedArvardan’sopencheek.Arvardangaspedandstifledashriek.Thelieutenantsaid,“Youresentedthatonce.Don’tyouthistime?”Arvardansaidnothing.Thelieutenantsaid,“Audiencegranted.”Four soldiers fell inbeforeandbehindArvardan.LieutenantClaudy led the
way.ShektandPolawerealonewiththesleepingSchwartz,andShektsaid,“Idon’thearhimanymore,doyou?”Polashookherhead.“Ihaven’teither,forquiteawhile.But,Father,doyou
supposehe’lldoanythingtoBel?”“Howcanhe?”saidtheoldmangently.“Youforgetthathe’snotreallyoneof
us.He’sacitizenoftheEmpireandcannotbeeasilymolested. . . .Youareinlovewithhim,Isuppose?”“Oh,terribly,Father.It’ssilly,Iknow.”“Ofcourse it is.”Shekt smiledbitterly. “He ishonest. Idonot sayhe isn’t.
Butwhatcanhedo?Canhe liveherewithuson thisworld?Canhe takeyouhome?IntroduceanEarthgirltohisfriends?Hisfamily?”Shewascrying.“Iknow.Butmaybetherewon’tbeanyafterwards.”AndShektwasonhisfeetagain,asthoughthelastphrasehadremindedhim.
Hesaidagain,“Idon’thearhim.”Itwas theSecretaryhedidnothear.Balkishadbeenplaced inanadjoining
room, where his caged-lion steps had been clearly and ominously audible.Exceptthatnowtheyweren’t.Itwasalittlepoint,butinthesinglemindandbodyoftheSecretarytherehad
somehowbecomecentered and symboled all the sinister forces of disease anddestruction thatwere being loosed on the giant network of living stars. ShektjarredSchwartzgently.“Wakeup,”hesaid.Schwartzstirred.“What is it?”Hefeltscarcelyrested.His tirednesswent in
andin,sodeepastocomeoutattheotherside,projectinginjaggedstreaks.“Where’sBalkis?”urgedShekt.“Oh—ohyes.”Schwartzlookedaboutwildly,thenrememberedthatitwasnot
withhiseyesthathelookedandsawmostclearly.Hesentoutthetendrilsofhismindandtheycircled,sensingtenselyfortheMindtheyknewsowell.He found it, and avoided touching it. His long immersion in it had not
increasedhisfondnessfortheclingingofitsdiseasedwretchedness.Schwartzmuttered,“He’sonanotherfloor.He’stalkingtosomeone.”“Towhom?”“NoonewhosemindI’veevenTouchedbefore.Wait—letmelisten.Maybe
theSecretarywill—Yes,hecallshimColonel.”ShektandPolalookedquicklyatoneanother.“Itcan’tbetreason,canit?”whisperedPola.“Imean,surelyanofficerofthe
Empirewouldn’tdealwithanEarthmanagainsttheEmperor,wouldhe?”“Idon’tknow,”saidShektmiserably.“Iamreadytobelieveanything.”
LieutenantClaudywassmiling.Hewasbehindadesk,withablasterathisfingertipsandthefoursoldiersbehindhim.Hespokewiththeauthoritythatsuchasituationwouldlendone.“Idon’tlikeEarthies,”hesaid.“Ineverlikedthem.They’rethescumofthe
Galaxy.They’rediseased,superstitious,andlazy.They’redegenerateandstupid.But,bytheStars,mostofthemknowtheirplace.“In away, I canunderstand them.That’s theway theywereborn, and they
can’thelpit.OfcourseIwouldn’tendurewhattheEmperorenduresfromthem—Imeantheirblastedcustomsandtraditions—ifIweretheEmperor.Butthat’sallright.Somedaywe’lllearn—”Arvardanexploded.“Nowlookhere.Ididn’tcometolisten—”“You’ll listen,becauseI’mnotfinished.Iwasabout tosaythatwhatIcan’t
understandistheworkingsofthemindofanEarthie-lover.Whenaman—arealman, supposedly—can get so low in filth as to crawl in among them and gonosingafter theirwomenfolk, Ihaveno respect forhim.He’sworse than theyare—”“ThentoSpacewithyouandyourpoorfilthyexcuseofamind!”fiercely.“Do
youknowthatthere’streasonagainsttheEmpireafoot?Doyouknowjusthowdangerousthesituationis?EveryminuteyoudelayendangerseveryoneofthequadrillionsintheGalaxy—”“Oh, I don’t know, Dr. Arvardan. It is Dr., isn’t it? I mustn’t forget your
honors.Yousee,I’vegotatheoryofmyown.You’reoneofthem.MaybeyouwereborninSirius,butyou’vegotablackEarthman’sheart,andyou’reusingyourGalacticcitizenshiptoadvancetheircause.You’vekidnapedthisofficialoftheirs, thisAncient. (Agood thing, by theway, in itself, and Iwouldn’tmind
rattling his throat for him.) But the Earthmen are looking for him already.They’vesentamessagetothefort.”“Theyhave?Already?Thenwhyarewetalkinghere?Imustseethecolonelif
Ihaveto—”“Youexpectariot,troubleofanysort?Perhapsyouevenplannedoneasthe
firststepinanarrangedrevolt,eh?”“Areyoumad?WhywouldIwanttodothat?”“Well,then,youwouldn’tmindifwereleasedtheAncient?”“Youcannot.”Arvardanrosetohisfeet,andforamomentitlookedasthough
hemighthurlhimselfacrossthedeskattheother.But theblasterwas inLieutenantClaudy’shand.“Oh,can’twe?Lookhere,
now.I’vegottenalittleofmyownback.I’veslappedyouandmadeyoucrawlbeforeyourEarthiepals. I’vemadeyou sitherewhile I toldyou toyour facewhatalowwormyouare.AndnowIwouldloveanexcusetoblastyourarmoffinexchangeforwhatyoudidtomine.Nowmakeanothermove.”Arvardanfroze.LieutenantClaudy laughed andput his blaster away. “It’s toobad I have to
saveyouforthecolonel.He’stoseeyouatfive-fifteen.”“Youknewthat—youknewthatallthetime.”Frustrationtorehisthroatinto
hoarsesandpaper.“Certainly.”“Ifthetimewehavelost,LieutenantClaudy,meansthattheissueislost,then
neither of us will have much time to live.” He spoke with an iciness thatdistorted his voice into something horrible. “But you will die first, because Ishallspendmylastminutessmashingyourfaceintosplinteredboneandmashedbrain.”“I’llbewaitingforyou,Earthie-lover.Anytime!”
ThecommandingofficerofFortDibburnhadgrownstiffintheserviceoftheEmpire.Intheprofoundpeaceofthelastgenerationstherewaslittleintheway of “glory” that any army officer could earn, and the colonel, in commonwithothers,earnednone.Butinthelong,slowrisefrommilitarycadethehadseenserviceineverypartoftheGalaxy—sothatevenagarrisonontheneuroticworldofEarthwastohimbutanadditionalchore.Hewantedonlythepeacefulroutine of normal occupation. He asked nothing beyond this, and for it waswilling to humble himself—even, when it was necessary, to apologize to anEarthgirl.He seemed tiredwhenArvardan entered.His shirt collarwas open and his
tunic,withitsblazingyellow“SpaceshipandSun”ofEmpire,hunglooselyoverthe back of his chair. He cracked the knuckles of his right hand with anabstractedairashestaredsolemnlyatArvardan.“Averyconfusingstory,allthis,”hesaid,“very.Irecallyouwell,youngman.
You are Bel Arvardan of Baronn, and the principal of a previousmoment ofconsiderableembarrassment.Can’tyoukeepoutoftrouble?”“Itisnotonlymyselfthatisintrouble,Colonel,butalltherestoftheGalaxy
aswell.”“Yes,Iknow,”somewhatimpatiently.“OratleastIknowthatthatiswhatyou
claim.Iamtoldthatyounolongerhavepapersofidentification.”“They were taken from me, but I am known at Everest. The Procurator
himselfcanidentifyme,andwill,Ihope,beforeeveningfalls.”“We’llseeaboutthat.”Thecolonelcrossedhisarmsandteeteredbackwardon
hischair.“Supposeyougivemeyoursideofthestory.”“I have beenmade aware of a dangerous conspiracy on the part of a small
groupofEarthmentooverthrowtheImperialGovernmentbyforce,which,ifnotmadeknownatonce to theproperauthorities,maywell succeed indestroyingboththeGovernmentandmuchoftheEmpireitself.”“Yougotoofar,youngman,inthisveryrashandfarfetchedstatement.That
the men of Earth could stage annoying riots, lay siege to this fort, doconsiderabledamage,Iamquitepreparedtoadmit—butIdonotforamomentconceive them capable of as much as driving the Imperial forces from thisplanet, let alone destroying the Imperial Government. Yet I will listen to thedetailsofthis—uh—plot.”“Unfortunately,theseriousnessofthematterissuchthatIfeelitvitalthatthe
detailsbetoldtotheProcuratorhimselfinperson.Irequest,therefore,tobeputintocommunicationwithhimnow,ifyoudon’tmind.”“Umm....Letusnotacttoohurriedly.Areyouawarethatthemanyouhave
broughtinisSecretarytotheHighMinisterofEarth,oneoftheirAncientsandaveryimportantmantothem?”“Perfectly!”“Andyetyousaythatheisaprimemoverinthisconspiracyyoumention.”“Heis.”“Yourevidence?”“Youwillunderstandme,Iamsure,whenIsaythatIcannotdiscussthatwith
anyonebuttheProcurator.”The colonel frowned and regarded his fingernails. “Do you doubt my
competencyinthecase?”“Notatall,sir.It issimplythatonlytheProcuratorhastheauthoritytotake
thedecisiveactionrequiredinthiscase.”“Whatdecisiveactiondoyoureferto?”“A certain building on Earth must be bombed and totally destroyed within
thirtyhours,orthelivesofmost,orall,oftheinhabitantsoftheEmpirewillbelost.”“Whatbuilding?”askedthecolonelwearily.Arvardansnappedback,“MayIbeconnectedwiththeProcurator,please?”Therewasapauseofdeadlock.Thecolonelsaidstiffly,“Yourealize that in
forcibly kidnaping anEarthman you have rendered yourself liable to trial andpunishmentbytheTerrestrialauthorities?Ordinarilythegovernmentwillprotectits citizens as amatter of principle and insist upon aGalactic trial. However,affairs onEarth are delicate and I have strict instructions to risk no avoidableclash.Therefore,unlessyouanswermyquestionsfully,Iwillbeforcedtoturnyouandyourcompanionsovertothelocalpolice.”“But thatwouldbe adeath sentence.Foryourself too! . . .Colonel, I ama
citizenoftheEmpire,andIdemandanaudiencewiththePro—”A buzzer on the colonel’s desk interrupted him. The colonel turned to it,
closingacontact.“Yes?”“Sir,” came the clear voice, “a bodyof natives have encircled the fort. It is
believedtheyarearmed.”“Hastherebeenanyviolence?”“No,sir.”Therewasnosignofemotiononthecolonel’sface.This,atleast,waswhathe
was trainedfor.“Artilleryandaircraftare tobemadeready—allmen tobattlestations.Withholdallfireexceptinself-defense.Understood?”“Yes,sir.AnEarthmanunderflagoftrucewishesaudience.”“Sendhimin.AlsosendtheHighMinister’sSecretaryhereagain.”Andnowthecolonelglaredcoldlyatthearchaeologist.“Itrustyouareaware
oftheappallingnatureofwhatyouhavecaused.”“Idemand tobepresentat the interview,”criedArvardan,nearly incoherent
with fury,“and I furtherdemand the reason foryourallowingme to rotunderguardhereforhourswhileyouclosetyourselfwithanativetraitor.ItellyouthatIamnotignorantthatyouinterviewedhimbeforespeakingwithme.”“Areyoumakinganyaccusations,sir?”demandedthecolonel,hisownvoice
ascendingthescale.“Ifso,makethemplainly.”“Imakenoaccusations.ButIwillremindyouthatyouwillbeaccountablefor
youractionshereafter,andthatyoumaywellbeknowninthefuture,ifyouhaveafuture,asthedestroyer,byyourstubbornness,ofyourpeople.”“Silence! I amnot accountable to you, at any rate.Wewill conduct affairs,
henceforward,asIchoose.Doyouunderstand?”
20
TheDeadlineThatWasReached
TheSecretarypassedthroughthedoorheldopenbyasoldier.Onhispurpling,swollenlipstherewasabrief,coldsmile.Hebowedtothecolonelandremainedcompletelyunaware,toallappearances,ofthepresenceofArvardan.“Sir,” said the colonel to the Earthman, “I have communicated to theHigh
Minister the details of your presence here and the manner in which it cameabout.Yourdetentionhereis,ofcourse,entirely—uh—unorthodox,anditismypurposetosetyoufreeassoonasIcan.However,Ihavehereagentlemanwho,as you probably know, has lodged against you a very serious accusation; onewhich,underthecircumstances,wemustinvestigate—”“I understand, Colonel,” said the Secretary calmly. “However, as I have
alreadyexplainedtoyou,thismanhasbeenonEarth,Ibelieve,onlyamatteroftwomonthsorso,so thathisknowledgeofour internalpolitics isnonexistent.Thisisaflimsybasis,indeed,foranyaccusation.”Arvardanretortedinanger,“Iamanarchaeologistbyprofession,andonewho
hasspecializedoflateonEarthanditscustoms.Myknowledgeofitspoliticsisfar from nonexistent.And in any case, I am not the only onewhomakes theaccusation.”TheSecretarydidnotlookatthearchaeologisteithernoworlater.Hespoke
exclusively to the colonel.He said, “Oneof our local scientists is involved inthis;onewho,approachingtheendofhisnormalsixtyyears, issufferingfromdelusions of persecution. Then, in addition, there is another man, one of
unknown antecedents and a history of idiocy. All three could not raise arespectableaccusationamongthem.”Arvardanjumpedtohisfeet.“Idemandtobeheard—”“Sitdown,”saidthecolonelcoldlyandunsympathetically.“Youhaverefused
todiscuss thematterwithme.Let therefusalstand.Bringin themanwith theflagoftruce.”Itwas anothermemberof theSocietyofAncients.Scarcely a flickerof the
eyelidbetrayedanyemotiononhispartatthesightoftheSecretary.Thecolonelrosefromhischairandsaid,“Doyouspeakforthemenoutside?”“Ido,sir.”“Iassume,then,thatthisriotousandillegalassemblyisbaseduponademand
forthereturnofyourfellowcountrymanhere?”“Yes,sir.Hemustbeimmediatelyfreed.”“Indeed!Nevertheless, the interestof lawandorderand the respectdueHis
ImperialMajesty’s representativeson thisworld require that thematter cannotpossiblybediscussedwhilemenaregatheredinarmedrebellionagainstus.Youmusthaveyourmendisperse.”TheSecretaryspokeuppleasantly.“Thecolonelisperfectlycorrect,Brother
Cori.Pleasecalmthesituation.Iamperfectlysafehere,andthereisnodanger—foranybody.Doyouunderstand?Foranybody.ItismywordasanAncient.”“Verywell,Brother.Iamthankfulyouaresafe.”Hewasusheredout.The colonel said curtly, “Wewill see that you leave here safely as soon as
mattersinthecityhavereturnedtonormal.Thankyouforyourco-operationinthismatterjustconcluded.”Arvardanwasagainonhisfeet.“Iforbidit.Youwillletloosethiswould-be
murderer of the human race while forbidding me an interview with theProcuratorwhen thatwould be simply in accordwithmy rights as aGalacticcitizen.”Then,inaparoxysmoffrustration,“WillyoushowmoreconsiderationtoanEarthmandogthanyouwilltome?”TheSecretary’svoicesoundedoverthatlastnear-incoherentrage.“Colonel,I
willgladlyremainuntilsuchtimeasmycaseisheardbytheProcurator,ifthatiswhatthismanwants.Anaccusationoftreasonisserious,andthesuspicionofit—howeverfarfetched—maybesufficienttoruinmyusefulnesstomypeople.Iwould reallyappreciate theopportunity toprove to theProcurator thatnone ismoreloyaltotheEmpirethanmyself.”Thecolonelsaidstiffly,“Iadmireyourfeelings,sir,andfreelyadmitthatwere
I in your placemy attitudewould be quite different.You are a credit to yourrace,sir.IwillattemptcontactwiththeProcurator.”
Arvardansaidnothingmoreuntilledbacktohiscell.Heavoidedtheglancesofthe others.For a long timehe satmotionless,withaknucklepinchedbetweengnawingteeth.UntilShektsaid,“Well?”Arvardanshookhishead.“Ijustaboutruinedeverything.”“Whatdidyoudo?”“Lost my temper; offended the colonel; got nowhere—I’m no diplomat,
Shekt.”He felt rivenwith the sudden urge for self-defense. “What could I do?” he
cried.“Balkishadalreadybeentothecolonel,sothatIcouldn’ttrusthim.Whatifhe’dbeenofferedhislife?Whatifhe’sbeeninontheplotallalong?Iknowit’sawildthought,butIcouldn’ttakethechance.Itwastoosuspicious.IwantedtoseeEnniushimself.”Thephysicistwasonhisfeet,witheredhandsclaspedbehindhisback.“Well,
then—isEnniuscoming?”“I suppose so. But it is only at Balkis’s own request, and that I don’t
understand.”“Balkis’sownrequest?ThenSchwartzmustberight.”“Yes?WhathasSchwartzbeensaying?”TheplumpEarthmanwassittingonhiscot.Heshruggedhisshoulderswhen
theeyesturnedtohimandspreadouthishandsinahelplessgesture.“IcaughttheSecretary’sMindTouchwhen they tookhimpastour room justnow.He’sdefinitelyhadalongtalkwiththisofficeryoutalkedto.”“Iknow.”“Butthere’snotreasoninthatofficer’smind.”“Well,”miserably,“thenIguessedwrong.I’lleatwormswhenEnniuscomes.
WhataboutBalkis?”“There’snoworryorfearinhismind;onlyhate.Andnowit’smostlyhatefor
us,forcapturinghim,fordragginghimhere.We’vewoundedhisvanityhorribly,andheintendstosquareitwithus.Isawlittledaydreampicturesinhismind.Ofhimself,singlehanded,preventingtheentireGalaxyfromdoinganythingtostophimevenwhilewe,withourknowledge,workagainsthim.He’sgivingus theodds,thetrumps,andthenhe’llsmashusanywayandtriumphoverus.”“Youmean that hewill risk his plans, his dreams ofEmpire, just to vent a
littlespiteatus?That’smad.”“Iknow,”saidSchwartzwithfinality.“Heismad.”“Andhethinkshe’llsucceed?”
“That’sright.”“Thenwemusthaveyou,Schwartz.We’llneedyourmind.Listentome—”But Shekt was shaking his head. “No, Arvardan, we couldn’t work that. I
wokeSchwartzwhenyouleftandwediscussedthematter.Hismentalpowers,whichhecandescribeonlydimly, areobviouslynotunderperfect control.Hecanstunaman,orparalyzehim,orevenkillhim.Betterthanthat,hecancontrolthe larger voluntarymuscles even against the subject’swill, but nomore thanthat. In the case of the Secretary, he couldn’t make the man talk, the smallmuclesaboutthevocalcordsbeingbeyondhim.Hecouldn’tco-ordinatemotionwell enough to have the Secretary drive a car; he even balanced him whilewalking onlywith difficulty.Obviously, then,we couldn’t control Ennius, forinstance,tothepointofhavinghimissueanorder,orwriteone.I’vethoughtofthat,yousee...”Shektshookhisheadashisvoicetrailedaway.Arvardanfeltthedesolationoffutilitydescenduponhim.Then,withasudden
pangofanxiety,“Where’sPola?”“She’ssleepinginthealcove.”Hewouldhavelongedtowakeher—longed—Oh,longedalotofthings.Arvardan looked at hiswatch. Itwas almostmidnight, and therewere only
thirtyhoursleft.Hesleptforawhileafter that, thenwokeforawhile,asitgrewlightagain.
Nooneapproached,andaman’sverysoulgrewhaggardandpale.Arvardanlookedathiswatch.Itwasalmostmidnight,andtherewereonlysix
hoursleft.He lookedabouthimnow inadazedandhopelessway.Theywereallhere
now—eventheProcurator,atlast.Polawasnexttohim,herwarmlittlefingerson his wrist and that look of fear and exhaustion on her face that more thananythingelseinfuriatedhimagainstalltheGalaxy.Maybetheyalldeservedtodie,thestupid,stupid—stupid—He scarcely saw Shekt and Schwartz. They sat on his left. And there was
Balkis,thedamnableBalkis,withhislipsstillswollen,onecheekgreen,sothatit must hurt like the devil to talk—and Arvardan’s own lips stretched into afurious,achingsmileatthethoughtandhisfistsclenchedandwrithed.Hisownbandagedcheekachedlessatthethought.FacingallofthemwasEnnius,frowning,uncertain,almostridiculous,dressed
ashewasinthoseheavy,shapeless,lead-impregnatedclothes.Andhewasstupid,too.Arvardanfeltathrillofhatredshootthroughhimat
thethoughtoftheseGalactictrimmerswhowantedonlypeaceandease.Whereweretheconquerorsofthreecenturiesback?Where?...Sixhoursleft—
Ennius had received the call from the Chica garrison some eighteen hoursbeforeandhehadstreakedhalfaroundtheplanetatthesummons.Themotivesthat ledhim to thatwereobscurebutnonetheless forceful.Essentially, he toldhimself, therewas nothing to thematter but a regrettable kidnaping of one ofthose green-robed curiosities of superstitious hagriddenEarth. That, and thesewildandundocumentedaccusations.Nothing,certainly, that thecolonelonthespotcouldnothavehandled.AndyettherewasShekt—Shektwasinthis—Andnotastheaccused,butas
anaccuser.Itwasconfusing.Hesatnowfacingthem,thinking,quiteconsciousthathisdecisioninthiscase
might hasten a rebellion, perhaps weaken his own position at court, ruin hischances at advancement—As forArvardan’s long speech just nowaboutvirusstrainsandunbridledepidemics,howseriouslycouldhetakeit?Afterall,ifhetook action on the basis of it, how credible would the matter sound to hissuperiors?AndyetArvardanwasanarchaeologistofnote.So he postponed thematter in hismind by saying to theSecretary, “Surely
youhavesomethingtosayinthismatter?”“Surprisinglylittle,”saidtheSecretarywitheasyconfidence.“Iwouldliketo
askwhatevidenceexistsforsupportingtheaccusation?”“YourExcellency,”saidArvardanwithsnappingpatience,“Ihavealreadytold
youthatthemanadmitteditineverydetailatthetimeofourimprisonmentdaybeforeyesterday.”“Perhaps,”saidtheSecretary,“youchoosetocreditthat,YourExcellency,but
itissimplyanadditionalunsupportedstatement.ActuallytheonlyfactstowhichoutsiderscanbearwitnesstoarethatIwastheoneviolentlytakenprisoner,notthey; that it wasmy life that was in peril, not theirs. Now I would like myaccuser toexplainhowhecouldfindall thisout in thenineweeks thathehasbeen on the planet, when you, the Procurator, in years of service here, havefoundnothingtomydisadvantage?”“ThereisreasoninwhattheBrothersays,”admittedEnniusheavily.“Howdo
youknow?”Arvardanrepliedstiffly,“Priortotheaccused’sconfessionIwasinformedof
theconspiracybyDr.Shekt.”“Isthatso,Dr.Shekt?”TheProcurator’sglanceshiftedtothephysicist.“Thatisso,YourExcellency.”“Andhowdidyoufindout?”Shekt said, “Dr. Arvardan was admirably thorough and accurate in his
description of the use to which the Synapsifier was put and in his remarks
concerning the dying statements of the bacteriologist, F. Smitko. This Smitkowasamemberoftheconspiracy.Hisremarkswererecordedandtherecordingisavailable.”“But,Dr.Shekt, thedyingstatementsofamanknown tobe indelirium—if
what Dr. Arvardan said is true—cannot be of very great weight. You havenothingelse?”Arvardaninterruptedbystrikinghisfistonthearmofhischairandroaring,
“Is thisa lawcourt?Hassomeonebeenguiltyofviolatinga trafficordinance?Wehavenotimetoweighevidenceonananalyticalbalanceormeasureitwithmicrometers.Itellyouwehavetillsixinthemorning,fiveandahalfhours,inotherwords,towipeoutthisenormousthreat....YouknewDr.Shektprevioustothistime,YourExcellency.Haveyouknownhimtobealiar?”TheSecretaryinterposedinstantly,“NooneaccusedDr.Shektofdeliberately
lying,YourExcellency.Itisonlythatthegooddoctorisagingandhas,oflate,beengreatlyconcernedoverhisapproachingsixtiethbirthday.Iamafraidthatacombinationofageandfearhaveinducedslightparanoiactendencies,commonenoughhereonEarth....Lookathim!Doesheseemtoyouquitenormal?”Hedidnot,ofcourse.Hewasdrawnandtense,shatteredbywhathadpassed
andwhatwastocome.YetShektforcedhisvoiceintonormaltones,evenintocalmness.Hesaid,“I
mightsaythatforthelasttwomonthsIhavebeenunderthecontinualwatchoftheAncients;thatmylettershavebeenopenedandmyanswerscensored.Butitisobviousthatallsuchcomplaintswouldbeattributedtotheparanoiaspokenof.However,IhavehereJosephSchwartz,themanwhovolunteeredasasubjectfortheSynapsifieronedaywhenyouwerevisitingmeattheInstitute.”“Iremember.”TherewasafeeblegratitudeinEnnius’smindthatthesubject
had,forthemoment,veered.“Isthattheman?”“Yes.”“Helooksnonetheworsefortheexperience.”“He is far the better. The exposure to the Synapsifier was uncommonly
successful,sincehehadaphotographicmemorytobeginwith,afactIdidnotknow at the time. At any rate, he now has a mind which is sensitive to thethoughtsofothers.”Ennius leaned far forward in his chair and cried in a shocked amazement,
“What?Areyoutellingmehereadsminds?”“That can be demonstrated, Your Excellency. But I think the Brother will
confirmthestatement.”The Secretary darted a quick look of hatred at Schwartz, boiling in its
intensity and lightninglike in itspassageacrosshis face.Hesaid,withbut the
most imperceptiblequiver inhisvoice,“It isquite true,YourExcellency.Thismantheyhaveherehascertainhypnoticfaculties,thoughwhetherthatisduetotheSynapsifierornotIdon’tknow.Imightaddthatthisman’ssubjectiontotheSynapsifierwasnotrecorded,amatterwhichyou’llagreeishighlysuspicious.”“Itwas not recorded,” said Shekt quietly, “in accordancewithmy standing
ordersfromtheHighMinister.”ButtheSecretarymerelyshruggedhisshouldersatthat.Enniussaidperemptorily,“Letusgetonwiththematterandavoidthispetty
bickering.. . .WhataboutthisSchwartz?Whathavehismind-readingpowers,orhypnotictalents,orwhatevertheyare,todowiththecase?”“Shekt intends to say,” put in the Secretary, “that Schwartz can read my
mind.”“Isthatit?Well,andwhatishethinking?”askedtheProcurator,speakingto
Schwartzforthefirsttime.“He’s thinking,” saidSchwartz, “thatwehavenowayofconvincingyouof
thetruthofoursideofwhatyoucallthecase.”“Quite true,”scoffed theSecretary,“though thatdeductionscarcelycalls for
muchmentalpower.”“Andalso,”Schwartzwenton,“thatyouareapoorfool,afraidtoact,desiring
onlypeace,hopingbyyourjusticeandimpartialitytowinoverthemenofEarth,andallthemoreafoolforsohoping.”TheSecretaryreddened.“Idenyallthat.Itisanobviousattempttoprejudice
you,YourExcellency.”ButEnniussaid,“Iamnotsoeasilyprejudiced.”Andthen,toSchwartz,“And
whatamIthinking?”Schwartzreplied,“ThatevenifIcouldseeclearlywithinaman’sskull,Ineed
notnecessarilytellthetruthaboutwhatIsee.”TheProcurator’seyebrows lifted insurprise.“Youarecorrect,quitecorrect.
Do you maintain the truth of the claims put forward by Drs. Arvardan andShekt?”“Everywordofit.”“So!Yetunlessasecondsuchasyoucanbefound,onewhoisnotinvolvedin
thematter, your evidence would not be valid in law even if we could obtaingeneralbeliefinyouasatelepath.”“Butitisnotaquestionofthelaw,”criedArvardan,“butofthesafetyofthe
Galaxy.”“YourExcellency”—theSecretaryroseinhisseat—“Ihavearequesttomake.
IwouldliketohavethisJosephSchwartzremovedfromtheroom.”“Whyso?”
“Thisman,inadditiontoreadingminds,hascertainpowersofmentalforce.IwascapturedbymeansofaparalysisinducedbythisSchwartz.Itismyfearthathemayattemptsomethingofthesortnowagainstme,orevenagainstyou,YourExcellency,thatforcesmetotherequest.”Arvardan rose to his feet, but the Secretary overshouted him to say, “No
hearingcanbefair ifamanispresentwhomightsubtlyinfluencethemindofthejudgebymeansofadmittedmentalgifts.”Enniusmadehisdecisionquickly.Anorderlyentered,andJosephSchwartz,
offering no resistance, nor showing the slightest sign of perturbation on hismoonlikeface,wasledaway.ToArvardanitwasthefinalblow.Asfor theSecretary,he rosenowandfor themomentstood there—asquat,
grimfigureingreen;stronginhisself-confidence.He began, in serious, formal style, “Your Excellency, all of Dr. Arvardan’s
beliefsandstatementsrestuponthetestimonyofDr.Shekt.Inturn,Dr.Shekt’sbeliefsrestuponthedyingdeliriumofoneman.Andallthis,YourExcellency,all this, somehow never reached the surface until after Joseph Schwartz wassubmittedtotheSynapsifier.“Who, then, is Joseph Schwartz? Until Joseph Schwartz appeared on the
scene,Dr.Shektwasanormal,untroubledman.Youyourself,YourExcellency,spentanafternoonwithhimthedaySchwartzwasbroughtinfortreatment.Washeabnormalthen?DidheinformyouoftreasonagainsttheEmpire?Ofcertainbabblings on the part of a dying biochemist?Did he seem even troubled?Orsuspicious?HesaysnowthathewasinstructedbytheHighMinister tofalsifytheresultsoftheSynapsifiertests,nottorecordthenamesofthosetreated.Didhetellyouthatthen?Oronlynow,afterthatdayonwhichSchwartzappeared?“Again,whoisJosephSchwartz?Hespokenoknownlanguageatthetimehe
wasbroughtin.Somuchwefoundoutforourselveslater,whenwefirstbegantosuspectthestabilityofDr.Shekt’sreason.Hewasbroughtinbyafarmerwhoknewnothingofhisidentity,or,indeed,anyfactsabouthimatall.Norhaveanysincebeendiscovered.“Yetthismanhasstrangementalpowers.Hecanstunatahundredyardsby
thought alone—kill at closer range. Imyself havebeenparalyzedbyhim;myarmsandlegsweremanipulatedbyhim;mymindmighthavebeenmanipulatedbyhimifhehadwished.“Ibelieve,certainly, thatSchwartzdidmanipulatethemindsoftheseothers.
TheysayIcapturedthem,thatIthreatenedthemwithdeath,thatIconfessedtotreason and to aspiring to Empire—Yet ask of them one question, YourExcellency. Have they not been thoroughly exposed to the influence of
Schwartz,thatis,ofamancapableofcontrollingtheirminds?“IsnotperhapsSchwartzatraitor?Ifnot,whoisSchwartz?”TheSecretaryseatedhimself,calm,almostgenial.Arvardanfeltasthoughhisbrainhadmountedacyclotronandwasspinning
outwardnowinfasterandfasterrevolutions.What answer could one make? That Schwartz was from the past? What
evidencewasthereforthat?Thatthemanspokeagenuinelyprimitivespeech?Butonlyhehimself—Arvardan—couldtestifytothat.Andhe,Arvardan,mightwellhaveamanipulatedmind.Afterall,howcouldhetellhismindhadnotbeenmanipulated?WhowasSchwartz?WhathadsoconvincedhimofthisgreatplanofGalacticconquest?He thought again. From where came his conviction of the truth of the
conspiracy?Hewasanarchaeologist,giventodoubting,butnow—Haditbeenoneman’sword?Onegirl’skiss?OrJosephSchwartz?Hecouldn’tthink!Hecouldn’tthink!“Well?”Enniussoundedimpatient.“Haveyouanythingtosay,Dr.Shekt?Or
you,Dr.Arvardan?”ButPola’svoicesuddenlypiercedthesilence.“Whydoyouaskthem?Can’t
youseethat it’salla lie?Don’tyouseethathe’styingusallupwithhisfalsetongue?Oh,we’re all going to die, and I don’t care anymore—butwe couldstop it,wecouldstop it—And insteadwe just sithereand—and—talk—”Sheburstintowildsobs.TheSecretarysaid,“Sowearereducedtothescreamsofahystericalgirl....
Your Excellency, I have this proposition. My accusers say that all this, theallegedvirus andwhatever else theyhave inmind, is scheduled for a definitetime—sixinthemorning,Ibelieve.Ioffertoremaininyourcustodyforaweek.Ifwhattheysayistrue,wordofanepidemicintheGalaxyoughttoreachEarthwithinafewdays.Ifsuchoccurs,ImperialforceswillstillcontrolEarth—”“Earth is a fine exchange, indeed, for a Galaxy of humans,” mumbled the
white-facedShekt.“I value my own life, and that of my people. We are hostages for our
innocence, and I ampreparedat this instant to inform theSocietyofAncientsthat I will remain here for a week of my own free will and prevent anydisturbancesthatmightotherwiseoccur.”Hefoldedhisarms.Enniuslookedup,hisfacetroubled.“Ifindnofaultinthisman—”Arvardancouldstand itnomore.Withaquietanddeadly ferocity,hearose
andstrodequicklytowardtheProcurator.Whathemeditatedwasneverknown.Afterwardhehimself couldnot remember.At any rate, itmadenodifference.
Enniushadaneuronicwhipandusedit.For the third timesince landingonEartheverythingaboutArvardan flamed
upintopain,spunabout,andvanished.InthehoursduringwhichArvardanwasunconsciousthesixo’clockdeadline
wasreached—
21
TheDeadlineThatPassed
Andpassed!Light—Blurring light and misty shadows—melting and twisting, and then coming
intofocus.Aface—Eyesuponhis—“Pola!”Thingsweresharpandclear toArvardaninasingle, leapingbound.
“Whattimeisit?”Hisfingerswereharduponherwirst,sothatshewincedinvoluntarily.“It’spastseven,”shewhispered.“Pastthedeadline.”Helookedaboutwildly,startingfromthecotonwhichhelay,disregardingthe
burninginhisjoints.Shekt,hisleanfigurehuddledinachair,raisedhisheadtonodinbriefmournfulness.“It’sallover,Arvardan.”“ThenEnnius—”“Ennius,” said Shekt, “would not take the chance. Isn’t that strange?” He
laughed a queer, cracked, rasping laugh. “The three of us singlehandedlydiscoveravastplotagainsthumanity,singlehandedlywecapturetheringleaderandbringhimtojustice.It’slikeavisicast,isn’tit,withthegreatall-conqueringheroeszoomingtovictoryinthenickoftime?That’swheretheyusuallyendit.Only in our case the visicastwent on andwe found that nobody believed us.
Thatdoesn’thappeninvisi-casts,doesit?Thingsendhappilythere,don’tthey?It’sfunny—”Thewordsturnedintorough,drysobs.Arvardanlookedaway,sick.Pola’seyesweredarkuniverses,moistandtear-
filled.Somehow,foraninstant,hewaslostinthem—theywereuniverses,star-filled. And toward those stars little gleaming metallic cases were streaking,devouring the light-years as they penetrated hyperspace in calculated, deadlypaths. Soon—perhaps already—theywould approach, pierce atmospheres, fallapartintounseendeadlyrainsofvirus—Well,itwasover.Itcouldnolongerbestopped.“WhereisSchwartz?”heaskedweakly.ButPolaonlyshookherhead.“Theyneverbroughthimback.”
Thedooropened,andArvardanwasnotsofargoneintheacceptanceofdeathastofailtolookupwithamomentarywashofhopeuponhisface.ButitwasEnnius,andArvardan’sfacehardenedandturnedaway.Ennius approached and lookedmomentarily at the father and daughter. But
evennowShektandPolawereprimarilyEarthcreaturesandcouldsaynothingto theProcurator, even though theyknew that short andviolent as their futurelivesweretobe,thatoftheProcuratorwouldbeevenshorterandmoreviolent.EnniustappedArvardanontheshoulder.“Dr.Arvardan?”“YourExcellency?”saidArvardaninarawandbitterimitationoftheother’s
intonation.“It is after six o’clock.” Ennius had not slept that night. With his official
absolution of Balkis had come no absolute assurance that the accusers werecompletely mad—or under mental control. He had watched the soullesschronometertickawaythelifeoftheGalaxy.“Yes,”saidArvardan.“Itisaftersixandthestarsstillshine.”“Butyoustillthinkyouwereright?”“YourExcellency,”saidArvardan,“inamatterofhoursthefirstvictimswill
die.Theywon’tbenoticed.Humanbeingsdieeveryday.Inaweekhundredsofthousandswillhavedied.Thepercentageofrecoverywillbeclosetozero.Noknownremedieswillbeavailable.Severalplanetswillsendoutemergencycallsforepidemicrelief.IntwoweeksscoresofplanetswillhavejoinedthecallandStates of Emergency will be declared in the nearer sectors. In a month theGalaxywillbeawrithingmassofdisease.Intwomonthsnottwentyplanetswillremainuntouched.InsixmonthstheGalaxywillbedead....Andwhatwillyoudowhenthosefirstreportscomein?
“Letmepredictthataswell.Youwillsendoutreportsthattheepidemicsmayhave started on Earth. This will save no lives. You will declare war on theAncientsofEarth.Thiswillsavenolives.YouwillwipetheEarthmanfromthefaceofhisplanet.Thiswillsavenolives....Orelseyouwillactasgo-betweenfor your friendBalkis and theGalacticCouncil, or the survivors thereof.YoumaythenhavethehonorofhandingthewretchedremnantsofthecrumbsoftheEmpiretoBalkisinreturnforantitoxin,whichmayormaynotreachsufficientworldsinsufficientquantitiesinsufficienttimetosaveasinglehumanbeing.”Enniussmiledwithoutconviction.“Don’tyouthinkyou’rebeingridiculously
overdramatic?”“Ohyes.I’madeadmanandyou’reacorpse.Butlet’sbedevilishlycooland
Imperialaboutit,don’ty’know?”“Ifyouresenttheuseoftheneuronicwhip—”“Notatall,”ironically.“I’musedtoit.Ihardlyfeelitanymore.”“ThenIamputtingittoyouaslogicallyasIcan.Thishasbeenanastymess.
It would be difficult to report sensibly, yet as difficult to suppress withoutreason.Now theother accusers involved areEarthmen;yourvoice is theonlyonewhichwouldcarryweight.Supposeyousignastatement to theeffect thattheaccusationwasmadeatatimewhenyouwerenotinyour—Well,we’llthinkof some phrase that will cover it without bringing in the notion of mentalcontrol.”“That would be simple. Say I was crazy, drunk, hypnotized, or drugged.
Anythinggoes.”“Willyoubereasonable?Nowlook, I tellyou thatyouhavebeen tampered
with.”Hewaswhisperingtensely.“You’reamanofSirius.WhyhaveyoufalleninlovewithanEarthgirl?”“What?”“Don’tshout.Isay—inyournormalstate,couldyoueverhavegonenative?
Could you have considered that sort of thing?” He nodded his head justperceptiblyinthedirectionofPola.ForaninstantArvardanstaredathiminsurprise.Then,quickly,hishandshot
out and seized the highest Imperial authority on Earth by the throat. Ennius’shandswrenchedwildlyandfutilelyattheother’sgrip.Arvardansaid,“Thatsortofthing,eh?DoyoumeanMissShekt?Ifyoudo,I
wanttoheartheproperrespect,eh?Ah,goaway.You’redeadanyway.”Enniussaidgaspingly,“Dr.Arvardan,youwillconsideryourselfunderar—”Thedooropenedagain,andthecolonelwasuponthem.“YourExcellency,theEarthrabblehasreturned.”“What?Hasn’tthisBalkisspokentohisofficials?Hewasgoingtoarrangefor
aweek’sstay.”“Hehas spoken andhe’s still here.But so is themob.Weare ready to fire
upon them, and it ismy advice asmilitary commander thatwe proceed to dothat.Haveyouanysuggestions,YourExcellency?”“Hold your fire until I seeBalkis.Have him sent in here.”He turned. “Dr.
Arvardan,Iwilldealwithyoulater.”Balkis was brought in, smiling. He bowed formally to Ennius, whoyieldedhimthebarestnodinreturn.“See here,” said the Procurator brusquely, “I am informed your men are
packingtheapproachestoFortDibburn.Thiswasnotpartofouragreement....Now,wedonotwishtocausebloodshed,butourpatienceisnotinexhaustible.Canyoudispersethempeaceably?”“IfIchoose,YourExcellency.”“Ifyouchoose?Youhadbetterchoose.Andatonce.”“Notatall,YourExcellency!”AndnowtheSecretarysmiledandflungoutan
arm.Hisvoicewasawildtaunt,toolongwithheld,nowgladlyreleased.“Fool!Youwaited too long and can die for that!Or live a slave, if you prefer—butrememberthatitwillnotbeaneasylife.”Thewildnessandfervorof thestatementproducednoshatteringeffectupon
Ennius.Evenhere,atwhatwasundoubtedly theprofoundestblowofEnnius’scareer, the stolidity of the Imperial career diplomat did not desert him. Itwasonlythatthegraynessanddeep-eyedwearinessabouthimdeepened.“ThenIlostsomuchinmycaution?Thestoryofthevirus—wastrue?”There
wasalmostanabstract, indifferentwonder inhisvoice.“ButEarth,yourself—youareallmyhostages.”“Notatall,”cametheinstant,victoriouscry.“Itisyouandyoursthataremy
hostages.ThevirusthatnowisspreadingthroughtheUniversehasnotleftEarthimmune. Enough already saturates the atmosphere of every garrison on theplanet, includingEverest itself.WeofEarthare immune,buthowdoyoufeel,Procurator?Weak?Isyour throatdry?Yourheadfeverish?Itwillnotbe long,youknow.Anditisonlyfromusthatyoucanobtaintheantidote.”ForalongmomentEnniussaidnothing,hisfacethinandsuddenlyincredibly
haughty.ThenheturnedtoArvardanandincool,culturedtonessaid,“Dr.Arvardan,I
find I must beg your pardon for having doubted your word. Dr. Shekt, MissShekt—myapologies.”Arvardan bared his teeth. “Thank you for your apologies. They will be of
greathelptoeverybody.”“Yoursarcasmisdeserved,”saidtheProcurator.“Ifyouwillexcuseme,Iwill
returntoEveresttodiewithmyfamily.Anyquestionofcompromisewiththis—manis,ofcourse,outofthequestion.MysoldiersoftheImperialProcuracyofEarthwill,Iamsure,acquit themselvesproperlybeforetheirdeaths,andnotafewEarthmenwill undoubtedly have time to light theway for us through thepassagesofdeath....Good-by.”“Holdon.Holdon.Don’tgo.” Slowly, slowly,Ennius looked up to thenewvoice.Slowly, slowly, Joseph Schwartz, frowning a bit, swaying a bit with
weariness,steppedacrossthethreshold.TheSecretarytensedandsprangbackward.Withasudden,warysuspicion,he
facedthemanfromthepast.“No,” he gritted, “you can’t get the secret of the antidote out ofme. Only
certainmen have it, and only certain others are trained to use it properly.Allthesearesafelyoutofyourreachforthetimeittakesthetoxintodoitswork.”“They are out of reach now,” admitted Schwartz, “but not for the time it
wouldtakethetoxintodoitswork.Yousee,thereisnotoxin,andnovirustostampout.”Thestatementdidnotquitepenetrate.Arvardanfeltasuddenchokingthought
enterhismind.Hadhebeentamperedwith?Hadall thisbeenagigantichoax,onethathadtakenintheSecretaryaswellashimself?Ifso,why?ButEnniusspoke.“Quickly,man.Yourmeaning.”“It’snotcomplicated,”saidSchwartz.“WhenwewereherelastnightIknewI
coulddonothingbysimply sittingand listening.So Iworkedcarefullyon theSecretary’smindforalongtime....Idarednotbedetected.Andthen,finally,heaskedthatIbeorderedoutoftheroom.ThiswaswhatIwanted,ofcourse,andtherestwaseasy.“Istunnedmyguardandleftfor theairstrip.Thefortwasonatwenty-four-
houralert.Theaircraftwerefueled,armed,andreadyforflight.Thepilotswerewaiting.Ipickedoneout—andweflewtoSenloo.”The Secretary might have wished to say something. His jaws writhed
soundlessly.ItwasShektwhospoke.“Butyoucouldforcenoonetoflyaplane,Schwartz.
Itwasallyoucoulddotomakeamanwalk.”“Yes,when it’s against hiswill.But fromDr.Arvardan’smind Iknewhow
Sirians hated Earthmen—so I looked for a pilot who was born in the Sirius
SectorandfoundLieutenantClaudy.”“LieutenantClaudy?”criedArvardan.“Yes—Oh,youknowhim.Yes,Isee.It’squiteclearinyourmind.”“I’llbet....Goahead,Schwartz.”“ThisofficerhatedEarthmenwithahate that’sdifficult tounderstand,even
for me, and I was inside his mind. Hewanted to bomb them. Hewanted todestroythem.Itwasonlydisciplinethattiedhimfastandkepthimfromtakingouthisplanethenandthere.“That kind of amind is different. Just a little suggestion, a little push, and
discipline was not enough to hold him. I don’t even think he realized that Iclimbedintotheplanewithhim.”“HowdidyoufindSenloo?”whisperedShekt.“Inmytime,”saidSchwartz,“therewasacitycalledSt.Louis.Itwasatthe
junctionoftwogreatrivers....WefoundSenloo.Itwasnight,buttherewasadarkpatchinaseaofradioactivity—andDr.ShekthadsaidtheTemplewasanisolated oasis of normal soil.We dropped a flare—at least it was mymentalsuggestion—and therewas a five-pointed building below us. It jibedwith thepicture Ihad received in theSecretary’smind. . . .Now there’sonlyahole, ahundred feet deep, where that building was. That happened at three in themorning.Noviruswassentoutandtheuniverseisfree.”It was an animal-like howl that emerged from the Secretary’s lips—the
unearthly screech of a demon. He seemed to gather for a leap, and then—collapsed.Athinfrothofsalivatrickledslowlydownhislowerlip.“Inevertouchedhim,”saidSchwartzsoftly.Then,staringthoughtfullyatthe
fallen figure, “Iwasbackbefore six, but I knew Iwouldhave towait for thedeadlinetopass.Balkiswouldhave tocrow.Iknewthatfromhismind,anditwasfromhisownmouth,only,thatIcouldconvicthim....Nowtherehelies.”
22
TheBestIsYettoBe
ThirtydayshadpassedsinceJosephSchwartzhad liftedoffanairportrunwayon anight dedicated toGalactic destruction,with alarmbells shrillingmadlybehindhimandorderstoreturnburningtheethertowardhim.Hehadnotreturned;not,atleast,untilhehaddestroyedtheTempleofSenloo.Theheroismwasfinallymadeofficialnow.Inhispockethehadtheribbonof
the Order of the Spaceship and Sun, First Class. Only two others in all theGalaxyhadevergottenitnonposthumously.Thatwassomethingforaretiredtailor.Noone,ofcourse,outsidethemostofficialofofficialdom,knewexactlywhat
hehaddone,butthatdidn’tmatter.Someday,inthehistorybooks,itwouldallbecomepartofabrightandindeliblerecord.Hewaswalking through thequietnightnow towardDr.Shekt’shouse.The
citywaspeaceful, aspeaceful as the starryglitter above. In isolatedplacesonEarthbandsofZealotsstillmadetrouble,buttheirleadersweredeadorcaptiveandthemoderateEarthmen,themselves,couldtakecareoftherest.Thefirsthugeconvoysofnormalsoilwerealreadyontheirway.Enniushad
againmade his original proposal that Earth’s population bemoved to anotherplanet,butthatwasout.Charitywasnotwanted.LetEarthmenhaveachancetoremaketheirownplanet.Letthembuildonceagainthehomeoftheirfathers,thenativeworldofman.Letthemlaborwiththeirhands,removingthediseasedsoilandreplacingitwithhealthy,seeingthegreengrowwhereallhadbeendeadand
makingthedesertblossominbeautyonceagain.Itwas an enormous job; it could take a century—butwhat of that?Let the
Galaxylendmachinery;lettheGalaxyshipfood;lettheGalaxysupplysoil.Oftheirincalculableresources,itwouldbeatrifle—anditwouldberepaid.And someday,onceagain, theEarthmanwouldbe apeople amongpeoples,
inhabitingaplanetamongplanets,lookingallhumanityintheeyeindignityandequality.Schwartz’sheartpoundedatthewonderofitallashewalkedupthestepsto
thefrontdoor.NextweekheleftwithArvardanfor thegreatcentralworldsoftheGalaxy.WhoelseofhisgenerationhadeverleftEarth?AndmomentarilyhethoughtoftheoldEarth,hisEarth.Solongdead.Solong
dead.Andyetbutthreeandahalfmonthshadpassed...Hepaused,hishandonthepointofsignalingatthedoor,asthewordsfrom
withinsoundedinhismind.Howclearlyheheardthoughtsnow,liketinybells.ItwasArvardan,ofcourse,withmoreinhismindthanwordsalonecouldever
handle. “Pola, I’ve waited and thought, and thought and waited. I won’t anymore.You’recomingwithme.”AndPola,withamindaseagerashis,yetwithwordsofthepurestreluctance,
said,“Icouldn’t,Bel.It’squiteimpossible.Mybackwoodsmannersandbearing...I’dfeelsillyinthosebigworldsoutthere.And,besides,I’monlyanEar—”“Don’tsayit.You’remywife,that’sall.Ifanyoneaskswhatandwhoyouare,
you’reanativeofEarthandacitizenoftheEmpire.Iftheywantfurtherdetails,you’remywife.”“Well, and after you make this address at Trantor to your archaeological
society,whatnext?”“Whatnext?Well, firstwe takeayearoffandseeeverymajorworld in the
Galaxy.Wewon’t skipone,even ifwehave togetonandoff itbymail ship.You’ll get yourself an eyeful of the Galaxy and the best honeymoon thatgovernmentmoneycanbuy.”“Andthen...”“Andthenit’sbacktoEarth,andwe’llvolunteerforthelaborbattalionsand
spend the next forty years of our lives lugging dirt to replace the radioactiveareas.”“Nowwhyareyougoingtodothat?”“Because”—there was the suspicion of a deep breath at this point in
Arvardan’sMindTouch—“Iloveyouandit’swhatyouwant,andbecauseI’mapatrioticEarthmanandhavethehonorarynaturalizationpaperstoproveit.”“Allright...”
Andatthispointtheconversationstopped.But,ofcourse, theMindTouchesdidnot,andSchwartz, in fullsatisfaction,
andalittleembarrassment,backedaway.Hecouldwait.Timeenoughtodisturbthemwhenthingshadsettleddownfurther.Hewaitedinthestreet,withthecoldstarsburningdown—awholeGalaxyofthem,seenandunseen.And for himself, and the new Earth, and all those millions of planets far
beyond,herepeatedsoftlyoncemorethatancientpoemthathealonenow,ofsomanyquadrillions,knew:
“Growoldalongwithme!Thebestisyettobe,Thelastoflife,forwhichthefirstwasmade...”