"Hell no!" Basil sighed. "I just thought you were going a long ways to
explain what some people would call a sordid affair." His grin became
more natural. "I was right though. This George Ladd is now a hero." He
frowned. "Only--your Nadine didn't seem to _want_ to be rescued."
"Get up and move around," Earl said desperately. "Get some circulation
back. We may still be able to catch up with them and get her back."
"I don't know," Basil said doubtfully, getting to his feet. "I hate the
idea of that paralysis gun."
"I've got a gun too," Earl said.
He half stumbled toward the bench with the locked drawer. He searched
for his keys, remembered he had left them in the hall door. He started
for the door, then stopped. The locked drawer was open and damaged. A
heavy screwdriver was on the table over it. The drawer was empty.
"He got my gun!" Earl said. "He got the stasis spheres too!"
Basil came to stand beside him and stare broodingly into the empty
drawer. "That does it," he mumbled. "Now you don't have anything."
"There's that thing out on the hill," Earl said. "Maybe George Ladd
headed for that. He hasn't had time to get located in town. We can find
him hiding out there. Wait until I get a flashlight."
From another drawer he brought out a high-powered flashlight. He went
to the open window and crawled out. Basil hesitated, then followed him.
* * * * *
Behind them was the building they had just left, light streaming from
the open window and from half a dozen other windows. To their right
loomed the dark bulk of the dome that housed the gigantic Brain, an
obsidian shape in the night that hulked into the heavens, blotting out
a hemisphere of stars. Ahead, above the horizon, was a crescent moon
that served to silhouette the hill and its horizon of trees. Around
them were dark shapes, motionless.
Earl kept the flashlight ready, but didn't use it as they stole swiftly
forward. Neither man spoke, but their breathing was a stentorian sound
that blended with distant traffic noises and the nearby chirping of a
cricket, and the rustling of weeds as they forced them aside in their
passage.
They reached the hill and went forward more slowly, using caution
as they remembered the effects of the paralysis gun. Now Earl was
remembering the way he had come before, finding landmarks in the
darkness. At last he stopped and touched Basil's arm to bring him to a
halt.
"It's on the other side of these bushes," he whispered. "I'll use the
flash."
He parted the branches. Suddenly a cone of light exploded in the
darkness.
"Right there," Basil said. Then, in surprise, "It's gone!"
"Naturally," Earl said in some disgust. "It fits the pattern."
"What pattern?" Basil asked.
Earl was slow in answering. He said, "I don't know. I just felt it. Or
maybe I do know. Nadine and that guy Ladd were small and got big in a
hurry. What was to keep that thing from doing the same? That's part
of it. The other part is just a feeling. They don't seem to want to
advertise to the world that they're here. Maybe the damn thing became
invisible or something. With stasis spheres and small people that
get big, and paralysis guns, what's so impossible about that ship or
whatever it is getting big and becoming invisible? I'll bet it's still
there."
But though they passed back and forth over the entire area, with
increasing boldness, they encountered nothing, visible or invisible,
that was out of the ordinary.
There was a concave depression in the soil where Earl remembered the
puffball shape to have been. Even fresh scars in the dirt around the
depression.
For a while Earl blundered through the underbrush calling Nadine's
name cautiously, without hope. Finally they were forced to give up and
return to the lab building.
"We could call the police," Basil said doubtfully.
"Oh, sure," Earl said, his voice harsh. "What would we tell them? Dr.
Glassman would be called in. Next they'd call the boys in the white
jackets."
"Maybe they're just the boys we need," Basil said. "Or a good stiff
drink. I like the idea of the drink."
* * * * *
It was ten o'clock in the morning when Irene Conner pushed open the
door without knocking and strolled casually into Earl's laboratory. She
saw him at the far end of the room, hunched over with his elbows on the
window sill, his back to her.
"Hi, Earl," she called cheerfully. "Want to have mid-morning coffee
with me?"
"No," Earl said without moving.
"You sound tired," Irene said, going over to stand beside him. "Or is
it spring fever--more accurately the summer doldrums."
"Neither," he said, glancing up at her with tired eyes. "I just want to
be left alone. I'm thinking." He straightened up with a deep sigh. "Why
don't you get Basil to have coffee with you?"
"That jerk?" Irene said. "He gets in my hair."
"Like you get in mine?" Earl said.
"That was cruel."
"Sorry," Earl relented. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I've got
problems. I'd much rather be left alone with them right now."
Irene inspected him critically as a man might inspect his automobile.
"Your eyes are bloodshot," she said. "Why not have some coffee with me
and tell me your problems. Maybe I can help you."
"Nobody can help me--least of all you."
The phone on the desk in the corner rang. Earl went to answer it.
"This is Glassman," the phone said. "I want a general staff meeting in
my office at once. Tell Dr. Conner she must be there too."
"Okay," Earl said. He hung up and looked at Irene. "Goat face," he
explained. "General staff meeting. We're to go to his office at once."
"Maybe this is it," Irene said, suddenly sober.
Earl nodded. That was the way it would come. A phone call for general
staff meeting. A quiet announcement that one of the scientists had at
last found the ideal nerve fluid for the brain. That's all there would
be to it. The greatest achievement since--if not including--the atom
bomb, and the historic moment would pass without a shout--with perhaps
only a tired sigh of relief, a glance of envy at the lucky one who had
found it.
"Well, let's get it over with," Earl said.
They went into the hall and walked side by side in silence toward the
back of the building where it joined the Dome. Basil joined them, for
once hardly noticing Irene as he looked questioningly at Earl, who
shook his head imperceptibly.
They entered Dr. Glassman's office. The director was sitting behind his
desk, ignoring them, pretending to be reading some typewritten papers.
Earl looked around. They were all there now, he and the other nine
scientists, and Dr. Glassman. Only there was something wrong with the
picture. One of them should have been beaming at the others, the light
of triumph in his or her eyes. Instead, the other nine reflected his
own puzzled bewilderment.
"Sit down, sit down," Dr. Glassman said, looking up at them. He waited
until they were all seated about the room, then cleared his throat
importantly, pushing aside the papers he had been reading. He started
to say something, then became aware of their expressions. He shook his
head. "The end isn't in sight yet. But we may be closer than we think.
I'll introduce you in a moment to a new addition to our staff. A person
who--from the reports I've seen from Washington--seems to be quite a
genius at creating new type molecules, tailor-made for specific tasks.
Our new associate won't be assigned a separate lab. Instead, will serve
as a sort of general consultant, observing all your work, and will make
suggestions for hastening things up a bit." A murmur of voices and
sharp footsteps came from the hall. "My wife has been showing our new
colleague the Brain. I think they're coming now."
The door opened. Mrs. Glassman's cheerful face appeared. "They're all
here now," she said over her shoulder.
The door opened farther. Earl, and everyone else, was staring at the
opening, waiting for their first glimpse of the newcomer.
Earl half rose to his feet before he stopped himself. Then he slowly
sat down, his eyes wide and puzzled.
* * * * *
It was Nadine. She wasn't wearing the clothes he had bought for her the
day before. Instead, she was dressed in a stylishly cut business suit
and low heeled slippers, a trim hat covering her hair. She had paused
just inside the room, a half smile on her carefully painted lips. Her
eyes surveyed each face pleasantly, passing over Earl's as though she
had never seen him before.
"Come up here, my dear," Dr. Glassman said in honeyed tones. And to
the others, "I want you to meet Dr. Nadine Holmes." Then back to her,
"What did you think of the Brain? Quite an imposing thing, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," Nadine replied. "I felt quite--awed by it, sitting there
where it will remain for untold centuries, waiting only for the vital
fluid that will give it the ability to think."
"I'm sure it won't be untold centuries before it gets the fluid," Dr.
Glassman said, chuckling heartily at his own humor. "I'll introduce you
to your co-workers, Dr. Holmes. This is Dr. Paul Hardwick...."
Earl caught Basil's attention and shook his head warningly. He waited,
then, for his turn at being introduced, his heart pounding violently,
his pulse racing.
"... and this is Dr. Earl Frye ..." Dr. Glassman said.
"How do you do, Dr. Frye." Nadine's hand was smooth and cool as she
rested it in his. Her eyes sized him up with impersonal interest, but
without a flicker of recognition.
"... and this is Dr. Basil Nelson ...."
Nadine withdrew her hand gently and moved on.
"And now you may return to your work," Dr. Glassman announced. "I know
the male members of the staff will be waiting for a visit from our
charming new member, but you must be patient. She will get around to
all of you in the next few days."
Earl was in the hall before Glassman had finished. He wanted to think.
Rapid footsteps caught up with him. "_Now_ can we have coffee?" she
asked with humorous petulance.
"No!" Earl said with more fierceness in his voice than he had intended.
It had the effect of a physical blow on Irene. She fell back a step,
blinking.
Basil caught up with them. "I want to talk with you, Earl," he said.
"Basil," Irene cut in, "will _you_ have coffee with me?"
"Me?" Basil said in delight. "Sure." He linked his arm in hers. "Let's
go." He looked back over his shoulder at Earl. "Thanks, Earl," he said.
"I'll see you later." It was two hours later.
* * * * *
"You sure it's her?" Basil said. "I'm inclined to agree with you. Of
course, I saw her only for a second or two.... Where do you suppose
she picked up those snazzy clothes? I was watching her when she was
introduced to you. Boy, is she some actress!"
"I'm wondering if it was an act," Earl said frowning.
"Of course it was--had to be if she's the same girl. But she didn't
let on she knew you at all."
"That's why I wonder if it was an act. There was something strange
about her. I can't quite put my finger on it--or yes I can. She's
changed. Today her whole personality is different. And where did she
get papers authentic enough to fool Glassman?"
"Why don't you ask her when she comes here?" Basil suggested.
Earl shook his head. "I wonder if she could be under some sort of
hypnosis? No, wait. It isn't any more absurd than a paralysis gun. If
she doesn't stay here tonight I'm going to follow her and see where she
goes. Are you with me?"
"Uh," Basil hesitated. "Depends on when she leaves the building.
Irene and I have sort of a date to have dinner at the Red Barn at six
o'clock."
"Go ahead," Earl said, grinning. "I'll probably have more success alone
anyway. We'd get in each other's way."
"Why don't you ask Glassman where she's staying? It's probably some
hotel in town."
"I'll think about it," Earl said.
When Basil left, Earl went to the window and looked toward the hill.
Would Nadine go there? Was there some hiding place on the hill where
she would go, to wait until tomorrow, after her "day's work" was done?
Earl nodded to himself. It had to be. Nothing else fitted into the
crazy pattern of events.
One thing he was certain of now. In spite of the accident that had
broken open the "ship" when it landed out there, its coming here--or
here and now--was no accident. Nor Nadine's apparent familiarity with
his name the night before, or her showing up now with credentials that
gave her the run of the place in an almost supervisory capacity.
And that meant that her interest was in the Brain. Hers--and who else?
George Ladd, of course. How many more? If each of those stasis spheres
had contained a person, there were dozens more in on it.
_Then why had Nadine been sent into the open when she was certain to be
recognized by him?_
That was what had been bothering him from the instant she walked into
Glassman's office. On the surface it was the most stupid thing that
could have occurred. On the surface....
Stupid. Yet somehow stupid didn't seem to fit. Maybe it had been
exceedingly cunning. Maybe there was something he had missed.
Cunning it might be--or stupid. But there was something else about it
that neither adjective quite fit. There was obviously organization
in back of Nadine. People. A "ship". Paralysis guns and what they
implied. Therefore planning, colored by one accident. Suppose every
detail of the plan had been worked out ahead of time, and was going
ahead without alteration. Suppose the original plan had specified that
Nadine was to be the "front", and the plan was proceeding blindly,
on the behavior level of instinct in animals who repeat instinctive
routines made senseless by changed environment. Or the blind function
level of a machine that keeps turning out parts when the conveyor belt
has stopped, until it wrecks itself.
It annoyed Earl not to be able to pin his thoughts down, to bring
everything into full focus.
* * * * *
He went to his kitchenette and fixed a hasty lunch. All afternoon he
worked, immersed in the routine of testing chemicals in batches of
ten and making out report sheets on each one. And all afternoon he
puzzled over what could be behind Nadine's having shown up. Not so much
what might be behind her having returned to the scene, nor her not
recognizing him, but _why_ someone else hadn't been used.
No one dropped in. Irene's absence gave him only a sense of relief.
Basil, no doubt, was staying away because of a guilt complex.
Nadine--her continued absence could be because she wasn't ready for
him yet, or she truly didn't remember him and would get to him in due
time, perhaps tomorrow; or maybe the Plan involved some other member
of the research group. Or the destruction of the Brain? Earl shook his
head at this thought. That alternative didn't fit.
And then it was four-thirty. Already Earl had reasoned out what he
intended to do. Either Nadine would go into town and stay at a hotel,
remain in the building as a guest of the Glassmans', or she would leave
the building and make her way by some circuitous route to the spot on
the hill where the "ship" had been.
Only the latter possibility interested Earl right now. He quickly
slipped off his lab apron and put on a suit coat. He wished that he
still had a gun, but it had been stolen with the stasis spheres. He'd
have to do without it.
Leaving the building, he walked along the sidewalk until he was able to
approach the hill from the other side where he wouldn't be seen from
the windows.
It was ten minutes to five when he settled down to wait in the
concealment of a thicket where he could command a view of the
approaches from every direction, and a clear view of the slight
depression in the ground where the "ship" had dropped.
There was nothing to do now but wait--and stay awake. He was acutely
aware, suddenly, of his lack of sleep the night before. A warm breeze
rustled the leaves around him. A small hoptoad paused to stare up at
him in unblinking fixity.
Overhead in a large Maple tree a host of sparrows paused to hold a
brief political convention.
And then Nadine was coming up the slope from the side away from the
lab. Her chic hat dangled carelessly in her right hand, the warm breeze
mussing her hair. A too normal smart-looking woman's purse was under
her arm. The breeze caught her skirt, molding her graceful legs, her
slim body. She was too much the picture of a normal girl idly strolling
in a park.
A great nostalgia, an almost overwhelming yearning, took possession of
Earl. He wanted to rush forward, let her know he was there, waiting for
her.
Instead, he remained motionless, watching her approach.
She seemed to be heading straight for him. For an instant he thought
she must have seen him. But her expression held no excitement or
anything but half dreamy enjoyment of her surroundings.
* * * * *
Scarcely fifteen feet away she came to a stop and turned to face toward
the concave depression in the ground, another fifty feet beyond her.
With her free hand she reached up and patted at her hair like any
normal girl would do, unconsciously.
Abruptly Earl became aware of something just beyond her. It wasn't
tangible. A shimmering in the air. A slight but definite refractive
quality that had not been there the moment before.
Nadine had seen it too. She walked forward a few steps.
"This is it!" Earl thought to himself. He crouched to run after her.
She took another step. She vanished, not abruptly, but as one might
vanish into a bright silver but otherwise transparent fog.
In that instant Earl moved hurtling forward so that when she
disappeared he was a step behind her.
Instantly the peaceful wooded scene vanished. His feet were on a smooth
hard floor. Ahead of him he caught a brief glimpse of walls, of people
without clothes.
Then he was falling over Nadine and trying to keep from falling on her.
His arms were around her. Somehow he twisted so that when he landed she
was on top, unhurt.
There was a stunned eternity when her eyes were looking into his,
recognition and gladness unmasked, hope and pleading sending him some
secret message, some unspoken word trembling on her lips.
But Earl had seen George Ladd even as he fell, and the never forgotten
instincts developed in him during World War III were in motion, making
him continue his roll so that in the next instant he was on his
feet, Nadine behind him. Ladd hadn't expected this and was caught by
surprise. Earl took advantage of that brief uncertainty, stepping in
and bringing a short chopping right against Ladd's jaw.
Before George Ladd reached the floor, Earl was running in great
strides, his eyes darting ahead in search of a place to escape.
"Wait!" Nadine called. But he didn't pause. He couldn't trust her.
George Ladd had been armed with his paralysis gun. He'd been waiting
for him. This had been a trap, and Nadine had led him into it.
Ahead was a doorway. He hesitated. Should he continue on down the
corridor or take the doorway? He decided on the latter. It opened into
a room, unoccupied at the moment. There were windows. One of them was
open. Earl didn't hesitate. Beyond the window was a wide paved street.
If he could get away, mingle with crowds....
No one was in sight. He sprinted along the pavement, away from the Dome
which he had glimpsed over his shoulder. It was beautiful, its basic
structure adorned with granite superstructures of fine workmanship. But
he didn't pause to admire it. He wanted people, lots of people, to mix
with and hide from pursuit.
For a hundred yards the street went through parkways. Then ahead were
buildings. He reached them, racing along a canyon formed by windowless
walls of buildings. He rounded a corner. The street was still deserted.
He ran on and on, turning corners when he came to them, but always
heading in one general direction so as not to circle back toward the
Dome.
* * * * *
Abruptly he paused. Beside him was a door in a building. He darted
inside, closing the door behind him and leaning against it while he
breathed in rasping gulps of air.
Ahead of him was a corridor and more doors. After a brief rest he
sprinted down the hallway. If he could find a vacant room, a place to
hide until he could map out some plan.
He listened at the first door. There was no sound. He tried the knob.
The door opened silently under his touch. He stepped in. The room was
unoccupied. Its far wall was of glass. He glanced through it. He was
looking out over an enormous workshop of some kind. Row upon row of
small vats were there--and people.
He was seeing his first people of this world he had plunged into. They
wore no clothes. They seemed to be tending the vats, walking along the
aisles, pausing here and there at a vat to touch banks of controls and
watch what was in each vat.
From the hall Earl had just left came loud voices. The words were in a
strange language, but the tones carried their own message. His pursuers
had caught up with him. In another moment they would open the door and
find him.
He looked around for a way to escape. There was a trap door in the
floor. It undoubtedly led to the huge workshop. Earl lifted the door
and saw a ladder. He climbed onto it, letting the trap door fall back
into place as he descended.
He fully expected workers to see him and react to his presence in some
way. A worker was less than ten feet away. The worker didn't pause or
seem to notice him.
Silently Earl watched the man's eyes, dull and void of intelligence.
They seemed only passive recorders of what there was for him to see. He
was touching control knobs in front of a vat.
Earl looked into the vat and caught his breath. Floating in the tank
was a human embryo. It was alive, its umbilical cord growing from a
spongy mass on the floor of the tank.
Forgetting his danger, Earl grabbed the man's shoulder. "What is this?"
he demanded. "Human babies growing in tanks?"
The worker waited unresisting until Earl released his grip, then
continued on his routine way. He was, in every respect, a robot, doing
his specialized job, his mind a complete blank to anything else. A
zombie. Earl looked out over the vast baby factory and realized with
numb horror that all the hundreds of people working here were the
same. Walking dead, their minds capable of only one thing--doing this
specialized task. And the human embryos in the tanks? Would they become
walking zombies?
Over his head came the sound of the trap door opening. Earl didn't take
time to look up. He ran. Down an aisle between rows of unborn humans
tended by undead zombies. Up another ladder into another observation
room, ignoring shouts that caught up with him. Out another door, down
another hall, through another door, and into a street again.
Miles of streets, and then something recognizable. A factory with
belching smokestacks. He plunged toward it recklessly, desperately
hoping to find intelligent men. Men with minds. Men able to help him
hide.
He found himself inside a huge plant where giant ladles were pouring
molten metal into molds. There were men running the machines that
controlled the pouring. They wore thick asbestos-like suits.
As Earl ran toward them he saw one of them slip and fall so that his
arm went into the stream of molten metal. The man didn't cry out nor
jerk away. Splattering metal cascaded on the others. There was the
stench of burned flesh.
His mind numb with the shock of what he was seeing, Earl stood rooted,
watching the others continue their work with expressionless faces,
blank eyes. Mindless creatures, controlled like inanimate robots.
"Earl!"
He turned in the direction of the voice. He saw Nadine beckoning for
him to come to her. He started toward her, then stopped. She was
different from these--or was she? No, she wasn't any different. She too
was an automaton. She was beckoning him to walk into another trap.
He turned to run the other way, but in that moment of indecision he had
been surrounded by men like George Ladd, carrying the little paralysis
guns--and they were automatons too.
He turned, searching for a way of escape, the smell of molten metal and
cooked flesh strong in his nostrils. And then he felt the sting of the
paralysis gun and was falling forward.
A sharp pain entered the base of his skull. He lost consciousness then
with the monstrous horror of what was around him searing into his soul.
* * * * *
The next instant, it seemed, he awakened, all the horror fresh in his
mind, the stinging sensation at the nape of his neck changed to a dull
throbbing pain. Nadine had led him into this. But she was like the
rest, a zombie unable to think for herself.
He shook his head slowly in pained bewilderment. She hadn't been that
way the first time he met her. She had been--_herself. What could have
created this nightmare?_
A voice somewhere sounded in deep resonant tones. "So you are awake,"
it said.
Earl rolled onto his side and searched for the source of the voice.
There was no one in view. He was in a room whose walls and ceiling were
heavy glass. He looked through the ceiling and saw the familiar maze of
steel catwalks inside the dome.
Outside his glass prison a pair of video cameras were trained on him.
Their lenses seemed somehow sentient, so that their motionlessness
partook of the quality of a fixed stare.
"I've always wanted to meet you," the voice said, and it seemed to come
from a small case atop the camera frames.
It was a dream, Earl decided. He had been hit on the head. In his
delirium he had conjured up the Brain, activated and intelligent as it
was designed to be in theory, possessed of a mind of its own.
"Of course," the voice went on, "I've seen film shots of you. You are
the discoverer of the nerve fluid that made me possible."