"No. And I'll tell you something else. Three of the--well, victims have
been children under the age of five. One was too young to walk. And the
most recent Translation wasn't a person at all. It was a helicopter.
Now figure that out, Germyn. What's the explanation for Translations?"
Germyn was gaping. "Why--you Meditate, you know. On Connectivity. The
idea is that once you've grasped the Essential Connectivity of All
Things, you become One with the Cosmic Whole. But I don't see how a
baby or a machine--"
"No, of course you don't. Remember Glenn Tropile?"
"Naturally."
"He's the link," Haendl said grimly. "When he got Translated, we
thought it was a big help, because he had the consideration to do it
right under our eyes. We got enough readings to give us a clue as to
what, physically speaking, Translation is all about. That was the first
real clue and we thought he'd done us a favor. Now I'm not so sure."
He leaned forward. "Every person I know of who was Translated was
someone Tropile knew. The three kids were in his class at the nursery
school--we put him there for a while to keep him busy, when he first
came to us. Two of the men he bunked with are gone; the mess boy who
served him is gone; his wife is gone. Meditation? No, Germyn. I know
most of those people. Not a damned one of them would have spent a
moment Meditating on Connectivity to save his life. And what do you
make of that?"
* * * * *