As the elevator shot up through the concrete of The Brain's "dura mater"
toward Apperception 36, Lee was feeling grand. Now he was a man with a
mission. Now he knew exactly what he had to do. Whether it would help,
whether it would stop The Brain; that was a different question, but at
least he had his plan.
He marvelled at the ease and at the lightning speed with which the great
decision had come. It had been at the sight of the senseless
robot-monsters, at the blood-spattered assembly line that the sense of
sacred mission had come over him. It had been at the moment when, in
Scriven's grip upon his arm, he had read his condemnation that he had
hit upon the plan.
He must take an awful chance and a terrific responsibility. For this he
had to be morally certain that The Brain was a liar, that Scriven was a
liar and that war was being provoked by The Brain despite all its
assertions to the contrary because The Brain could assume power only
over the dead bodies of millions of men like Gus; Gus whom The Brain had
butchered like a guinea pig because he had refused to obey the Gogs and
Magogs of the Machine God.
Now that he had this moral certainty Lee felt that strange and mystical
elation which comes to the soldier at the zero hour in war. The worst
was really over; the terrible waiting, the uncertainty, the struggle of
morale in "sweating it out." Now his nerves were steady, exhaustion and
fatigue had vanished; in its place was that wonderful feeling of full
mastery over all faculties which comes to fighting men as the battle is
joined. There was that upsurge of the blood from fighting ancestors
which obliterates the cowardice of the intellect, that inspired
intoxication which sharpens the intellect into a battle axe. By his
quick-witted postponement of the fateful appointment with the
psychiatrists he had gained thirty hours. Whether this would be enough
he didn't know, but he felt in himself the strength to fight on
endlessly.
The elevator stopped at Apperception 36 and Lee stood for a moment at
the door of his lab for a last breath, a briefing addressed to himself:
"This is like walking into a mine field," he thought; "one false step
and things go Boom. All the sensory organs of The Brain are in action
behind this door and some of them are pretty near extrasensory in their
mind-reading capacities. I've got to walk back and forth amongst those
observation screens; there may be other radiations too, following me,
penetrating into the recesses of my mind without my knowing it. That
means I must make my mind a blank. It's like being quizzed by a
lie-detector, only more so. I must not only seem normal and at ease, I
actually must be so and harbor only friendly, innocuous thoughts toward
The Brain. My actions will seem innocent enough; it is my thoughts
wherein my danger lies. Whatever I do; I've got to direct that from the
subconscious: act as by instinct and keep the mind a blank."
He opened the door and looked around—as usual—in this vault as silent
as the grave of a Pharaoh. There was a little dust on the glass cubicles
of "Ant-termes-pacificus" and there were a few lines scribbled on the
yellow memo-pad on his desk:
"Thanks for the weekend, boss. Everything normal and under control. Next
feeding time at 8 p.m. the 27th. So long, Harris." Of course; he had
given Harris, his assistant, the weekend off. That had escaped his mind
in the excitement when The Brain's mutiny began.... And now it was the
29th.
"They must be ravenously hungry by this time," he thought, and that
thought was in order because it was a normal thought.
He walked through the rows of the cubicles, halting his step every now
and then. The fluorescent screens on which The Brain drew the curves of
its observation-rays showed two sharp rises of the lines marked
"activity" and "emotionality". The lower levels of the glass cages
already were opaque; the glass corroded by the viscous acids which the
soldiers had squirted from their cephalic glands in their attempts to
break out and to reach food.
"Poor beasts," Lee thought, and he thought it without restraint because
it was normal, a perfectly harmless thought. But then; below the layers
of his consciousness his instincts told a different story.
"This is marvelous," they triumphed. "Fate takes a hand; they are
desperate; they're ready for the warpath and even the tiger and the
elephant would run for cover when their columns march."
As if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do Lee
walked over to the south wall, the one which separated the lab from the
interior of The Brain. He removed a sliding panel marked
"L-Filler-Spout" and there it was before his eyes, looking almost like a
fireplug. There was one in every apperception center and there were
hundreds more throughout The Brain, and their purpose was to replenish
the liquid insulation which shielded the sensitive electric nervepaths
of The Brain. Without looking at the thing, concentrating his every
thought upon the hunger of "Ant-termes-pacificus", Lee unscrewed the
cap and put a finger into the opening. The finger came back covered with
the thick, the syrupy lignin, this amber-colored sluggish stream of
woodpulp liquefied, this soft bed of The Brain's vibrant nerves.
Unthinking, absent-minded, Lee wiped the finger with his handkerchief.
"Now, I'm going to try a slightly different arrangement of the tests,"
he thought. "It's normal; I'm doing that almost every day."
The feeling he experienced as he swung into action was strange. As he
walked back and forth it felt like somnambulic walk; something his limbs
did without an act of will. As his hands did things expertly and
skillfully the feeling was that they were instruments automatically
moved not by his own volition but by some power outside himself.
His movements were those of a child serenely at play, a child
incongruously tall and gaunt and grey-haired constructing little
causeways and bridges on the ground with the logs of the fireplace; a
happy child engrossed in an innocent game....
It took about an hour and then causeways of fresh pulpwood were laid
from every termite hill to every feeding gate, from every glass cubicle
to the south wall and along the south wall to the "Lignin-Filler-Spout";
and from the ground up to the spout a little tepee of sticks had been
built.
Admiringly the grey-haired child looked at its handiwork through
thick-lensed glasses. "It's been an interesting game," Lee thought, "it
might turn out to be a valuable new experiment. I'll sit down now and
observe what happens...."
He went over to the desk again and settled down. He opened his files and
laid out his charts on the desk and there were colored pencils to be
sharpened for the entries. He was glad of that; his conscious mind
rejoiced now over every little pursuit of routine, of normalcy, of the
established scientific order of things; it concentrated on these. Pencil
in hand, reclined in comfort, his heartbeat even, he kept expectant eyes
upon the staggered rows of fluorescent screens, ready to note any
significant developments.
He didn't have to wait long; their strange sixth sense, the telepathy of
their collective brains, the spirit of the hive with the immortality of
their race for its supreme law, had already told them of a promised land
and of new worlds to conquer.
On the fluorescent screens Lee watched their preparations for the big
drive: The nasicorn-soldiers clotting together at the exit tunnels like
assault troops at the bow of invasion barges when the bottom scrapes the
landing beach; the fierce, virginal workers struggling up from the deep
shelters of the nurseries, carrying in their mandibles the squirming
larvae, the living future of the race. The walls of the queen's prison
broken down in the innermost redoubt and the guards closing in on the
idol of the race, moving the big white body like a juggernaut.
In a matter of minutes the "activity" and "emotionality" curves on the
fluorescent screens surged to heights which Lee had never seen.
It started with the crossbreeds of "termes-bellicosus," with army-ants
and devil-ants, and spread quickly all along the line of non-belligerent
varities. Famine had given them the
impetus to change their mode of life; famine, the inexorable tyrant,
whipped them onward into their exodus.
On the foremost fluorescent screens Lee saw it start: Small groups of
warriors reconnoitering into no-man's-land and quickly darting back
again.... And then the dark columns of the first assault wave descending
from their city-gates, lock-stepped like Prussian guards of old,
marching as if to the beat of drums. On the visi-screens which magnified
them a hundred times they looked an awesome sight with the rostrums of
their horns, bigger than all the rest of their bodies, swinging like
turrets of battleships being trained upon the enemy. From the
loudspeakers which magnified all noise a hundred times, the excited
tremors of their bodies, the locked steps of a million feet swelled into
a vast roar sounding almost like thunder.
Jotting down observations in rapid pencil strokes, Lee thought:
"Starvation is producing very interesting results; it's a worthwhile
experiment." With all his mental energy he suppressed the silent prayer
which struggled to arise from the deep of his unconscious: "Good Lord
let The Brain not realize what is going on."
The visi-screens now showed the second wave of the assault: endless
columns of workers, their mandibles twitching with eagerness to devour,
bustling along the logs, kept in line by two rows of warriors to their
right and left. The noises they produced in the loudspeakers were as of
some big cattle-drive.
With no interruption in the lengthening line the third wave followed:
the virgin nurses, the frustrated mothers carrying the whitish larvae,
like babes in arms, carrying them with the indomitable determination to
preserve their lives which human nurses showed in the Second World War
as the bombs crashed into maternity wards. And then at last the heavy
rearguard: the holiest of holies, the living spirit of the hive, the
queen. Majestically she was carried on her warrior's backs; enormous as
she loomed on the visi-screen, the white of her uncouth body was hardly
visible, swarmed over as she was by her fanatical courtiers which,
licking and caressing, kept her covered as by a shield. Her consorts
trotted meekly in her trail; unhappy little men, rudely aroused from
their harem sinecure, jealously guarded and prodded on by the queen's
countless ladies in waiting and the palace guard.
Things moved very fast now; Lee's quick pencil strokes could hardly
follow the events:
10:30 a.m. The foremost columns are now out of reach of the
visi-screens. But I can see them moving along the logs with the naked
eye. Interesting new fact: the crossbreeds from the most belligerent
species are far and ahead of the rest. They don't take time out to drive
tunnels. But even the tunnels of the more pacific strains are forging
ahead at an extraordinary rate; six feet across the floor already....
10:40: "Bellicosus" has reached the south wall; it is now moving
along the wall toward the "Lignin-Filler-Spout." There is no hesitancy
as they change direction at the angle of 90 degrees. The Queens are now
coming up at a very rapid rate from the mounds farthest to the rear.
It's fortunate we have these differences in behaviorism and temperament
because otherwise a terrific traffic jam would occur at the
"Filler-Spout"....
10:50: "Bellicosus" is now ascending to the "Filler-Spout." The
warriors have ringed the pipe. With their body-tremors they are giving
the "come-on" signal to the workers. The workers are piling in—an
average batch—about 65,000. It's a good thing that there is an air
space in these horizontal nerve-path pipes. That gives them a chance to
march along the ceiling and work down from there....
11:00: There are now a score of columns converging at the
"Filler-Spout." Amazing that even under such provoking conditions
"ant-termes" won't fight. The warriors act like the most accomplished
traffic-cops; it's marvelous how they keep their columns in order and
keep them moving side by side into The Brain....
11:10: The first million, I should say, is now well inside the
"Filler-Spout." They're marching at a rate of at least 300 yards per
hour; amazing speed; I never saw them move that fast before. Even so I
won't have time to watch the outcome of the experiment. I've put
everything I had into this thing. 500 hives—that would make it 35
million individuals of the species at a conservative estimate. It's the
biggest mass-migration I've ever seen, but will it be big enough to do
the trick?
11:20: The foremost columns must have reached the neighboring
apperception centers to the right and left of mine by now. But they
won't stop; I know that from experience in Australia. To them it's just
like any other "hollow tree"; they'll drive right on to the top; they
won't bivouak before they are completely exhausted. That won't be before
five or six hours. At the rate of 900 feet per hour that would make it
almost a mile, covering the whole "occipital region" of The Brain. And
then they are going to feast; boy, will they be ravenous....
11:30: About 3 million are safely inside now I should say. Don't think
that I could stay at my post much longer. There's a certain
extracurricular idea coming up from the subconscious like a tidal wave.
The dams of willpower don't seem able to hold back that idea; I've got
to get out before it spills across the dam and floods my consciousness.
The phone rings; for once it is a welcome sound.
It was Oona's voice; trembling with emotion as if she were still
suffering from this morning's shock or had suffered another:
"Semper, are you all right?"
Lee reassured her that he was and then listened astounded as she heaved
a sigh of relief.
"Listen, Semper, this is terribly important. I've got to see you
immediately. No, I cannot tell you over the phone; it's a personal
matter and it concerns you. You cannot make it? Is your business that
important? You're in the midst of a vital experiment? That's awful,
Semper; it really is in this case. No; I'm all right personally; it
isn't that. It's you Semper, it's you. 5 p.m. at the earliest, is
that the best you can do? All right then. Meet me at the airport. And
take good care of yourself, do you hear me: take good care of yourself,
Semper, up to that time."
She hung up quickly, as if suddenly disturbed.
Lee frowned at the clock: 11:35. He could have managed to meet Oona
during her lunch hour at the hotel. But there were things he still had
to do even more important than Oona. More important to him than even
Oona. He shook his head; it wouldn't have seemed possible a few days
ago....
With the climax of the experiment now over Lee felt his mental
resistance ebbing fast.
"They're on the move," he thought. "Nothing can stop them now; it's
beyond my control, but they're marching. I'd better get out of here...."
With fevered eyes he glanced around the floor and like a victim of
delirium saw it moving, crawling as with snakes, crawling into their
hole all of them, black snakes, grey snakes, red snakes, endless their
lengthening bodies....
He carefully closed the door of the lab, locked it and then pressed the
button which opened the elevator door. Only as the cage tore down
through the "dura mater", only when he felt safe from the sensory organs
of The Brain, only when he was sure that not even a human eye would see
him in this racing little cage, only then did the dam of willpower
collapse. He put both hands before his eyes in vain attempt to stop the
tears from streaming; those tears of a soldier over the body of his
fallen chum; those tears of a greying scientist who sacrificed the
results of his life's work to some higher cause.
Lee caught the one p.m. Greyhound-Helicopter for Phoenix only a second
before the start. He panted from the run, but in his sunken eyes there
was a light and in his mind a new serenity which comes to men when they
are fortunate enough to meet with some very wonderful woman, when with
admiration and humility they stand confronted with a courage greater
than man's. Gus's wife had been that woman; the way she had taken the
terrible news was the source of Lee's new strength and confidence.
The flying commuter was almost empty.
Noting Lee's astonished glance the stewardess gave a nervous little
laugh:
"People get jumpy traveling," she volunteered.
"That so; why do they?"
"Didn't you hear the news all morning; wait...."
She flicked the radio on. On the television screen appeared an aerial
view of a big city, vaguely familiar looking, yet as foreign as Venice,
and then the voice of the announcer broke through.
"New Orleans: It is now ascertained that the break in the levees was
caused by a huge trench digging machine left unattended overnight at a
lonely spot twenty miles South of Baton Rouge. Levee engineers believe
that its engine was started possibly by saboteurs, approximately at
midnight and that it then proceeded automatically digging itself into
the levee until it was drowned by the incoming river. The initial
eight-foot breach has now been widened by the Mississippi to a width of
200 feet. Along Canal street and all over downtown New Orleans the flood
has reached a level of ten feet above the streets as evacuation
continues. The government has concentrated every available piece of
equipment to close the breach. All normal activities have come to a
standstill; property damages are estimated at 50 million dollars; the
death toll has passed the 500 mark in this most catastrophic flood in
New Orleans' history."
New aerial pictures, similar to the results of a blockbuster bombing
attack flicked on the screen:
"New York: The bursting of the watermains at dawn this morning at seven
different points of Manhattan's downtown area which has already caused
the collapse of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel and seven big apartment
buildings along Park Avenue now threatens Macy's and the Public Library
on 42nd Street.
"All subway traffic has stopped. Evacuation of panicky Metropolitans
from the Central Park district proceeds in an orderly manner. In the
Harlem district, however, disorders and plunderings have been reported.
An estimated seven million people are without drinking water. Trucks
carrying water from New Jersey are severely hampered by unprecedented
traffic snarl-ups, since owners of private automobiles are fleeing the
city with their families. Due to the flooding of sub-street levels in
both Grand Central and Penn Station, evacuation by rail can proceed only
from 163rd Street for the New York Central and from New Jersey for the
Pennsylvania Railroad system. Effectiveness of railroad transport is
reduced to less than 30% of normal capacity. I. C. Moriarty, Sanitary
Commissioner of New York, declared in his press conference that the
catastrophic bursting of the watermains was caused by failure of the
remote-controlled automatic mainstem valves. For reasons which still
puzzle city engineers these valves closed suddenly and completely at 5
a.m. this morning. Because of the failure of the alarm system,
high-pressure pumps in the powerhouses continued to work and to build up
pressure in the closed system of the watermains till almost
simultaneously, and with explosive force, the breaks occurred, the first
one right under the Columbus monument. In view of the extremely grave
situation which threatens the world's biggest city, Governor Charles
declared martial law this morning at 10 a.m.
"Chicago: The city-wide calamity caused by the unprecedented breakdown
in the sewage disposal system gets more threatening with every minute.
As engineers are still unable to enter the atomic power plant and as the
sewage disposal-pumps continue to work in reverse, all Chicagoland is
rapidly turning into a cesspool as millions of toilets and kitchen sinks
spill sewage into every apartment. The Fire Department has received more
than two million calls from harassed citizens battling vainly against
the unsavory flood.
"Harrowing scenes are reported from hotels where 3,000 members of the
American Federation of Women's Clubs are taking turns in sending protest
telegrams and gallantly holding down by the weight of their own bodies
the facilities-front in the 3,000 bathrooms of the hotels. At a few
points workers have succeeded in digging up sewage mains and tons of
concrete are being poured to stop the devastating reversal of the flow.
"Even now, however, the partially closed mains and the overflow from
houses are flooding the streets. As it gradually seeps into Lake
Michigan, source of Chicago's drinking water supply, health commissioner
Segantini has already warned against the appalling dangers of epidemics
which might result from this.
"Nuclear physicists of Chicago University, called in to aid city
engineers, have declared that dangerous amounts of escaping gamma-rays
in the Atomic Powerplant were first discovered by the Geiger-counter at
two a.m. Evacuation of all employees was ordered one hour later as a
safety measure. Just why the pumps resumed operations after the shutdown
of the plant and just what caused the system to work in reverse remains
a mystery. Prof. Windeband, spokesman of the group of nuclear
physicists, confesses that he has no explanation for the phenomenon.
"Washington: Rumors are flying thick and fast in the nation's capital.
In the rapidly darkening picture of international politics the
mobilization of Mexico is the latest shadow. Official explanation given
by Mexico's ambassador Rivadivia, is that his government has ordered
mobilization as a protective measure to guard frontiers against the
illegal entry of thousands of panicky American refugees chiefly from New
Orleans. The State Department is said to be planning a protest. Even so,
the unprecedented series of catastrophes on the home-front of America
overshadows everything. Washington insiders report a growing conviction
in high government circles that the events of the past 48 hours are
proof absolute that large numbers of foreign saboteurs and agents are at
work."
"Had enough?" asked the stewardess.
Lee confessed that he had.
With its helicopters feathered, the Greyhound came sliding down onto the
Bus Terminal's roof; fifteen minutes later Lee stood again at his
father's door, that door he had thought once before he would never see
again.
The old man's loose-skinned face, tanned like saddle leather, didn't
move an inch at the sight of the son: "You again, Semper? Come in then."
Lee vaguely sensed that his father was glad he had come; that there was
some unfinished business left from their last conversation and that his
father welcomed the opportunity to finish it.
"You know," he said as his stiff-jointed legs carried him back to the
table with bottle and glasses trembling on the tray in his hands, "you
know, I've named these four walls after old friends of mine—all of them
dead—but sometimes they won't answer when I talk to them. And then I'm
glad when somebody happens along. But don't take that to mean that I'm
in my dotage now or getting mad."
"No, Father; that's just loneliness."
"In any case, Son, there are lots of people lots madder than I am.
There's a woman living next door, a spinster, answers to the name of
Pimpernel. This morning she came running over crying that her
vacuum-cleaner was chasing her all over the house. And by God, Semper,
it was a fact. Never saw anything like it. One of those new-fangled
automatic contraptions which are supposed to do the job all alone by
themselves, and it banged around and chased about as if it had a
hornet's nest under its bonnet. Scared the poor woman to death."
"What did you do?"
"What could I do? I'm not a mechanic; there was no cord attached or
anything to plug out. So I got my automatic and shot the damn thing."
"Shot it?"
"Sure; bullet must have penetrated something; anyway it stopped dead on
the spot. And now she threatens to sue me for damages; there's gratitude
for you. What brought you here?"
Lee felt elated; obviously his father was in high spirits from this
morning's successful hunt; for once he was in a receptive mood.
Rapidly, with all the precision he could muster, Lee explained, as an
adjutant would explain a new development in a strategic situation to his
commanding general. After a while the old man started pacing the floor
in rising excitement. A spark of the old fierceness had come into his
blunted pale-blue eyes as he swung around.
"Before this morning's incident I would have considered all this as a
raving maniac's gibberish. Now as I put two and two together I can see a
distinct possibility that you've got something. Tell you what I'll
do—what I consider my duty to do—I'll call out the National Guard.
We'll encircle The Brain and present an ultimatum to the thing. If
necessary we'll take the place by storm."
The younger Lee answered with a vigorous shaking of his head.
"You cannot do that, Father. In the first place the National Guard
doesn't stand a chance against the defences of The Brain. In the second
place your action would mean civil war. No, we must go after this in a
different manner. The Secretary of War is an old friend of yours. All
right: take the next plane to Washington. Don't tell him anything he
couldn't believe. Tell him—what is strictly the truth—that some power
hostile to the United States threatens to interfere with the remote
control of automatic war equipment. Tell him to redouble guard over the
remote-control rocket launchers, to have their automatic computators
disconnected temporarily and for the commanders to accept only orders
direct from Washington. The greatest danger is not the domestic
disorders; that situation we'll have in hand if my scheme works. But let
one rocket accidentally be launched into some big foreign capital and it
will set the whole world on fire in an Atomic war. That is what The
Brain wants, that is what must be prevented at all costs. Will you do
that, Father?"
Even years after Lee never understood just what had happened or how it
could have happened that his position to his father became reversed with
such startling suddenness. In the extremity of the situation he had
addressed his father with the authority of of a commander toward one of
his aids—and the father had accepted the son's command unquestioningly.
"Semper," he had said, "I have always considered you a military
nincompoop. I was mistaken, son, I apologize. Now let me grab my hat and
coat. You kept the taxi waiting? Good: tell the man to go to the
airport, and let her rip."
At 5 p.m. the Flying Greyhound dropped on Cephalon airport and there was
Oona looking very pale, but very beautiful in the gathering dusk. She
grabbed Lee by the arm leading him to the other side of the hangar where
stood her little jetticopter plane. "Let's get in here," she said. "I'm
freezing and I don't want you to be seen around here."
She didn't put on the lights, yet even in the dark Lee could see the
golden helmet of her hair shimmering like the pale gold in the halo of
the Virgin as the primitive art of Tuscany presented her a thousand
years ago. She nestled the soft fur of her coat against Lee's shoulders
and as she did he felt her shivering. He put a protecting arm around
her, careful to do it as a friend, careful to suppress the surge of
blood which started burning in his veins. She seemed to be groping for
words; it took a little while before she began to speak, with clarity
and simplicity as she always did but with an audible effort to keep
composed:
"I've brought you a suitcase, Semper, with a few necessities. And I
brought you some money, later you can send me your check. And here are
the keys of the plane. Fly over to Mexico; go back to Australia from
there or anywhere you want, but do get out of this country and do it
quick. I couldn't tell you that over the phone and I shouldn't be
telling this to you now, but I feel I must.
"You're in danger and it's serious. Why? I don't know, but Howard seems
to suspect your loyalty. He also seems to think that you've gone out of
your mind. And Howard has taken measures; he has ordered re-examination
of your broad aptitude test. He has voiced his suspicion as to your
sanity to Bondy and Mellish and you know what kind of yes-men those
fellows are in the face of an authority like Scriven's. Trust them to
discover something wrong with you, trust them to give the test some kind
of a convenient twist. They're going to have you certified, they're
going to put you into a mental institution, Semper.
"Do you get that? Do you realize that it's fate worse than death? Do you
understand that there is nothing you can do to escape that fate except
by flight? I have no idea when it's going to be, this trap they're going
to spring on you; but for God's sake, Semper, get going as long as
there's still time. Any moment now some plainclothesman might grab you
by the arm and then...."
It was she who had grabbed him by the arm, Oona who looked into his
face, her big eyes moist.
Lee strained his willpower so it would control the tremor of his voice:
"Oona; there's one thing I have got to know: What made you tell me
this—and do all this so I could get away?"
The girl's eyes didn't waver from his. "I remember," she said slowly,
"I remember that I felt as if I could throw conventions into the wind
at the very first time we met. I've always been frank with you, as
much as I could be in my position. So then I don't mind telling you now
that ... I like you immensely, Semper."
As if agitated by some electric shock, Lee's arm tightened around the
girl's waist. "Oona, I have asked you once before to be my wife. You
said you couldn't and I thought it was because you didn't like me well
enough. But now, after what you've just told me, now that we both know
about The Brain and that I wasn't insane in my observations, I'm asking
you again: Be my wife, Oona, and then let's go together—anywhere—away
from all this, to the end of the world."
In the darkness her uplifted white face shone like the moon; there were
two limpid luminous pools in it. All of a sudden they overflowed with
tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mouth half opened, swallowed hard.
There was now nothing left of that "integrated personality", nothing of
the calm and the poise which the younger set of scientists admired so
much. There was only a young woman torn with torment.
"I would have loved to go with you to the end of the world when we were
floating over the Canyon. I would love to go with you a thousand times
more tonight," Lee heard her say and then the gnashing of her teeth as
she continued: "But it cannot be, Semper. It cannot be because my die is
cast, because my fate is made. Did nobody ever tell you? Didn't you even
guess? Howard and I—we've been living together for the past six years.
He's not a very good man; rather beyond good and evil; but then: I feel
that I have got to stick to him now more than ever."
The golden helmet of her hair dropped to Lee's breast. "I'm ashamed,"
she sobbed, "terribly, terribly ashamed, Semper. I've made such a mess
of things, of you and me—such a mess of my whole life."
He buried his face into the fragrance of the golden wave. "It's nothing,
darling," he whispered close to her ear. "It doesn't mean a thing to me;
it's less than a cloud which passes across the face of the moon, and
then it's gone and never will come back...."
She freed herself from his embrace. With both her hands upon his
shoulders she looked straight into his eyes.
"That is not true, Semper," she said and there was the fierceness of a
young Viking warrior in the flash of her eyes: "That is not true and
there's been already too much of lie in my life. I just cannot stand for
any more of that. It can not be, Semper. I've told you plainly and it
means not ever, not ever. Go now. Do as I told you. Go immediately.
If you really love me, grant me this, let me feel that I could do at
least something—this one thing for you."
"Oona!" Lee exclaimed and it sounded like a deep-throated bell in an
ancient cathedral town as it rings the last stroke of midnight and then
hangs mute in the dark sky. That happiness he had felt, that cometflight
through all the stars in heaven; it was too big for him, it couldn't
last. He had sensed the blow before it fell. It wasn't like being hit in
action; it was like in that field hospital when the doc had told him:
"This is going to hurt, Joe—I'm sorry, but we're shy of morphine."
Howard's name had cut just like that expected knife. What was there left
to say? Nothing; nothing, but one small matter.
"I love you, Oona, and that means forever just as much as you mean that
not ever you can come with me. And I thank you, Oona, for this hour.
Yes; I think I'll go back to Australia—where I belong. But not tonight.
I've set a great experiment going—the outcome is no longer in my hand.
Still I feel I mustn't run away now. In fact I cannot; it's somewhat
like a soldier's duty to stay up front. I'm going to see this to the
end."
She buried her face in her hands: "I knew it. You child, you—you Don
Quixote charging against the windmills. They're going to kill you,
they're going to kill you. And now there's nothing I can do."
For a second her small fists pounded against Lee's breast and the next
moment, before he could do anything, she had jumped out of the plane
slamming the door in his face. For a few seconds more he heard her
footsteps rushing across the frozen turf and the receding wails of
echoes from the hangar walls:
"And now there's nothing I can do—nothing I can do."
When after a minute of fumbling in the dark he pushed the door open, it
was too late.
He walked over to the hotel; not by an act of will, but with his legs
somehow doing the job alone and by themselves. He ordered himself a car
from the Braintrust garage. He entered The Brain and went up in the
elevator to Apperception 36. Nobody seemed to notice that there was a
somnambulist passing by.... He unlocked the door and under the rows of
neon lights things were as he had left them eight hours ago. Only there
were no longer any snakes crawling across the floor towards a hole in
the wall. But the hole was still there and he thought that he had better
tidy things up a bit. If nobody had noticed the arrangements for this
new experiment so far; why should anybody be forewarned?
Lee put the lid back on the "Lignin-Filler-Spout." He closed the panel
so the wall looked whole again. He gathered the sticks of cordwood from
the floor and piled them neatly to their stacks again. All this he did
like a child putting its things away after a long day's play; a
grey-haired child, weary, with the sandman in its eyes. He looked around
and found everything done and over with. On the fluorescent screens all
curves The Brain described had dropped to the bottom. Like dead things
they lay flat. On the visi-screens some stay-behinds of the great exodus
were looming large, a hapless little ant-king scurrying about; a few
disabled workers, their blind eyes staring into the face of death. It
would come soon to them; their work on earth was done....
Lee looked at the clock: 10 p.m. He put out the lights and locked the
door behind that yawning emptiness which once had been his lab, which he
would never see again. As he descended in the elevator he felt very
tired.
