"I saw you. I wasn't sleeping. I was afraid to stay inside alone, so I
followed you. I never told anyone."
"But you were only nine!"
"They would have taken you away if I'd said anything."
Mrs. Jamieson held out her hand. "Come here, son. It's time I told you
about us."
* * * * *
So he sat across the kitchen table from her, and she told the whole
history, beginning with Stinson sitting in the laboratory in New
Jersey, holding in his hand a small cylinder moulded from silicon
with controlled impurities. He had made it, looking for a better
micro-circuit structure. He was holding this cylinder ... and it was a
cold day outside ... and he was dreaming of a sunny Florida beach--
And suddenly he was there, on the beach. He could not believe it at
first. He felt the sand and water, and felt of himself; there was no
mistake.
On the plane back to New Jersey he came to certain conclusions
regarding the strange power of his device. He tried it again, secretly.
Then he made more cylinders. He was the only man in the world who
knew how to construct it, and he kept the secret, giving cylinders
to selected people. He worked out the basic principle, calling it a
kinetic ordinate of negative vortices, which was very undefinitive.
It was a subject of wonder and much speculation, but no one took
serious notice of them until one night a federal Agent arrested one man
for indecency. It was a valid charge. One disadvantage of this method
of travel was that, while a body could travel instantaneously to any
chosen spot, it arrived without clothes.
The arrested man disappeared from his jail cell, and the next morning
the Agent was found strangled to death in his bed. This set off a
campaign against Konvs. One base act led to another, until the original
reason for noticing them at all was lost. Normal men no longer thought
of them as human.
Mrs. Jamieson told how Stinson, knowing he had made too many cylinders
and given them unwisely, left Earth for Alpha Centaurus.
He went alone, not knowing if he could go so far, or what he would find
when he arrived. But he did arrive, and it was what he had sought.
He returned for the others. They gathered one night in a dirty,
broken-down farmhouse in Missouri--and disappeared in a body, leaving
the Agents standing helplessly on Earth, shaking their fists at the sky.
"You have asked many times," Mrs. Jamieson said, "how your father
died. Now I will tell you the truth. Your father was one of the great
ones, along with Stinson and Benjamin and Dr. Straus. He helped plan
the escape; but the Agents found him in Bangkok fifteen minutes before
the group left. They shot him in the back, and the others had to go on
without him. Now do you know why I killed the Agent in the third cabin?
I had to. Your father was a great man, and I loved him."
"I don't blame you, mother," Earl said simply. "But we are freaks.
Everybody says, 'Konv' as if it is something dirty. They write it on
the walls in rest rooms."
"Of course they do--because they don't understand! They are afraid of
us. Wouldn't you be afraid of someone who could do the things we do, if
you _couldn't_ do them?"
Just like that, it was over.
That is, the first shock was over. Mrs. Jamieson watched Earl leave the
house, walking slowly along the river, a boy with a man's problems.
His friends called to him from the river, but he chose not to hear.
He wanted to be alone. He needed to think, to feel the newness of the
thing.
Perhaps he would cross the river and enter the deep forest there. When
the initial shock wore off he might experiment with his new power. He
would not travel far, in these first attempts. Probably he would stay
within walking distance of his clothes, because he still lacked the
tricks others had learned.
It was a hot, mucky afternoon with storm clouds pushing out of the
west. Mrs. Jamieson put on her swimming suit and wandered down to the
river to cool herself.
* * * * *
For the remainder of that summer they worked together. They practiced
at night mostly, taking longer and longer jumps, until Earl's
confidence allowed him to reach any part of the Earth he chose. She
knew the habits of Agents. She knew how to avoid them.
They would select a spot sufficiently remote to insure detection, she
would devise some prank to irritate the Agents; then they would quickly
return to Wisconsin. The Agents would rush to the calculated spot, but
would find only the bare footprints of a woman and a boy. They would
swear and drive back to their offices to dig through files, searching
for some clue to their identity.
It was inevitable that they should identify Mrs. Jamieson as one of
the offenders, since they had discovered, even before Stinson took his
group to Centaurus, that individuals had thought patterns peculiar to
themselves. These could be identified, if caught on their detectors,
and even recorded for the files. But the files proved confusing, for
they said that Mrs. Jamieson had gone to Centaurus with the others.
Had she returned to Earth? The question did not trouble them long. They
had more serious problems. Stinson had selected only the best of the
Konvs when he left Earth, leaving all those with criminal tendencies
behind. They could have followed if they chose--what could stop them?
But it was more lucrative to stay. On Earth they could rob, loot, even
murder--without fear of the law.
Earl changed.
Even before the summer was over, he matured. The childish antics of his
friends began to bore him. "Be careful, Earl," his mother would say.
"Remember who you are. Play with them sometimes, even if you don't like
it. You have a long way to go before you will be ready."
During the long winter evenings, after they had watched their favorite
video programs, they would sit by the fireplace. "Tell me about the
great ones," he would say, and she would repeat all the things she
remembered about Stinson and Benjamin and Straus. She never tired of
discussing them. She would tell about Benjamin's wife, Lisa, and try to
describe the horror in Lisa's young mind when the news went out that
E. Mason Jamieson had been killed. She wanted him to learn as much as
possible about his father's death, knowing that soon the Agents would
be after Earl. They were so clever, so persistent. She wanted him to be
ready, not only in ways of avoiding their traps ... but ready with a
heart full of hate.
Sometimes when she talked about her husband, Mrs. Jamieson wanted to
stand up and scream at her son, "Hate, hate! Hate! You must learn to
hate!" But she clenched her hands over her knitting, knowing that he
would learn it faster if she avoided the word.
* * * * *
The winter passed, and the next summer, and two more summers.
Earl was ready for college. They had successfully kept their secret.
They had been vigilant in every detail. Earl referred to the "damn
Agents" now with a curl of his lip. They had been successful in
contacting other Konvs, and sometimes visited them at a remote
rendezvous.
"When you have finished college," Mrs. Jamieson told her son, "we will
go to Centaurus."
"Why not now?"
"Because when you get there they will need men who can contribute to
the development of the planet. Stinson is a physicist, Benjamin a
metallurgist, Straus a doctor. But Straus is an old man by this time. A
young doctor will be needed. Study hard, Earl. Learn all you can. Even
the great ones get sick."
She did not mention her secret hope, that before they left Earth
he would have fully avenged his father's death. He was clever and
intelligent.
He could kill many Agents.
So she exhumed the money she had hidden more than ten years before.
The house beside the Little Wolf river was sold. They found a modest
bungalow within walking distance of the University's medical school.
Mrs. Jamieson furnished it carefully but, oddly, rather lavishly.
This was her husband's money she was spending now. It needed to last
only a few years. Then they would leave Earth forever.
A room was built on the east side of the bungalow, with its own private
entrance. This was Earl's room. Ostensibly the private entrance was for
convenience due to the irregular hours of college students.
It was also convenient for coming home late at night after Agent
hunting.
Mrs. Jamieson was becoming obvious.
Excitement brought color to her cheeks when she thought of Earl facing
one of them--a lean, cunning jaguar facing a fat, lazy bear. It was her
notion that federal Agents were evil creatures, tools of a decadent,
bloodthirsty society, living off the fat of the land.
She painted the room herself, in soft, pastel colors. When it was
finished she showed Earl regally into the room, making a big joke of it.
"Here you can study and relax, and have those bull sessions students
are always having," she said.
"There will be no friends," he answered, "not here. No Konvs will be at
the university."
"Why not? Stinson selected only educated, intelligent people. When
one dies the cylinder is taken and adjusted to a new thought
pattern--usually a person from the same family. I would say it is very
likely that Konvs will be found here."
* * * * *
He shook his head. "No. They knew we were coming, and no one said a
word about others being here. I'm afraid we are alone."
"Well, I think not," she said firmly. "Anyway, the room will be
comfortable."
He shook his head again. "Why can't I be in the house with you? There
are two bedrooms."
She said quickly, "You can if you wish. I just thought you'd like being
alone, at your age. Most boys do."
"I'm not like most boys, mother. The Konvs saw to that. Sometimes I'm
sorry. Back in high school I used to wish I was like the others. Do you
remember Lorane Peters?" His mother nodded. "Well, when we were seniors
last year she liked me quite a lot. She didn't say so, but I knew it.
She would sit across the aisle from me, and sometimes when I saw how
her hair fell over her face when she read, I wanted to lean over and
whisper to her, 'Hey, Lorrie--' just as if I was human--'can I take you
to the basketball game?'"
Mrs. Jamieson turned to leave the room, but he stopped her. "You
understand what I'm saying, don't you?"
"No, I don't!" she said sharply. "You're old enough to face realities.
You are a Konv. You always will be a Konv. _Have you forgotten your own
father?_"
She turned her back and slammed the door. Earl stood very still for
a long time in the room that was to have been happy for him. She was
crying just beyond the wall.
Earl did not use the room that first year. He slept in the second
bedroom. He did not mention his frustrated desires to be normal, not
after the first attempt, but he persisted in his efforts to be so. Use
of the cylinder was out of the question for them now, anyway.
In the spring Mrs. Jamieson caught a virus cold which resulted in a
long convalescence. Earl moved into the new bedroom. At first she
thought he moved in an effort to please her because of the illness, but
she soon grew aware of her mistake.
One day he disappeared.
* * * * *
Mrs. Jamieson was alarmed. Had the Agents found him? She watched the
papers daily for some word of Konvs being killed.
The second day after his disappearance she found a small item. A Konv
had raided the Agent's office in Stockholm, killing three, and getting
killed himself. Mrs. Jamieson dropped the paper immediately and went
to Stockholm. She did not consider the risk. In Stockholm she found
clothes and made discreet inquiries. The slain man had been a Finnish
Konv, one of those left behind by Stinson as an undesirable. His wife
had been killed by the Agents the week before. He had gone completely
insane and made the raid singlehanded. Mrs. Jamieson read the account
of crimes committed by the man and his wife, and determined to prevent
Earl from making the mistake of taking on more than he could handle.
When she arrived at her own home, Earl was in his room.
"Where have you been?" she asked petulantly.
"Oh, here and there."
"I thought you were involved in that fight in Stockholm."
He shook his head.
She stood in the doorway and watched him leaning over his desk,
attempting to write something on a sheet of paper. She was proud of his
profile, tow-headed as a boy, handsome in a masculine way. He cracked
his knuckles nervously.
"What did you do?" she asked.
Suddenly he flung the pencil down, jumped from his chair and paced the
floor. "I talked to an Agent last night," he said.
"Where?"
"Bangkok."
Mrs. Jamieson had to sit down. Finally she was able to ask, "How did it
happen?"
"I broke into the office there to get at the records. He caught me."
"What were you looking for?"
"I wanted to learn the names of the men who killed Father." He said the
word strangely. He was unaccustomed to it.
"Did you find them?"
He pointed to the paper on his desk. Mrs. Jamieson, trembling, picked
it up and read the names. Seeing them there, written like any other
names would be written, made her furious. How could they? How could the
names of murderers look like ordinary names? When she thought them in
her mind, they even sounded like ordinary names--and they shouldn't!
She had always thought that those names, if she ever saw them, would
be filthy, unholy scratches on paper, evil sounds, like the rustle of
bedclothes to a jealous lover listening at a keyhole. "Tom Palieu"
didn't sound evil; neither did "Al Jonson." She was shaken by this more
than she would permit Earl to see.
* * * * *
"Why did you want the names?"
"I don't know," he said. "Curiosity, maybe, or a subconscious desire
for revenge. I just wanted to see them."
"Tell me what happened! If an Agent saw you ... well, either he killed
you or you killed him. But you're here alive."
"I didn't kill him. That's what seems so strange. And he didn't try to
kill me. We didn't even fight. He didn't ask why I broke in without
breaking the lock or even a window. He seemed to know. He did ask what
I was doing there, and who I was. I told him, and ... he helped me get
the names. He asked where I lived. 'None of your damn business,' I told
him. Then he said he didn't blame me for not telling, that Konvs must
fear Agents, and hate them. Then he said, 'Do you know why we kill
Konvs? We kill them because there is no prison cell in the world that
will hold a Konv. When they break the law, we have no choice. It is a
terrible thing, but must be done. We don't want your secret; we only
want law and order. There is room enough in the world for both of us.'"