"I am the _Cyberene_. This is the year 3042 A. D., in the old calendar.
I had you brought here through what might be called a time tube from
your own period. Shortly you will return through that tube to your own
time--as many hours ahead from the time you left as you spend here
before you go back."
Earl got to his feet slowly, watching the glistening lenses. "Now it
begins to fit together," he said. "You're behind Nadine and Ladd. You
say _I'm_ the discoverer of the nerve fluid. You're mistaken. It hasn't
been found yet--and there are ten of us looking for it. One of the
others may be the one to find it."
"History says you found it."
"And you just wanted to see me because of that?" Earl asked.
"Watch," the voice said.
The plate glass wall in front of Earl changed suddenly, to become
apparently a giant window over-looking a huge sprawling city. There
were buildings that reached thousands of feet into the sky, with
fragile looking networks of bridges spanning the spaces among them.
There were giant aircraft in the sky. In the distance was a trail
of fire that might be from an inter-planetary rocket ship departing
spaceward.
And abruptly the elfin city was blotted out by a blinding sun. Seconds
later the blinding sun was gone, and Earl could see the city again. But
now it was only the skeleton of what it had been. Its spiderweb design
of bridges was torn and twisted. Many of its tall buildings were even
now toppling toward the ground. Fire shot skyward in a pyrotechnic
display of havoc.
* * * * *
A giant airplane appeared, heading straight toward the window through
which Earl watched. It grew larger. For a brief second he looked into
its control cabin and saw its pilot and co-pilot. They were human, but
their faces were harsh and cruel, their eyes cold and inhuman. In the
next instant they were gone.
"That is a typical scene on--the other Earth," the voice of the
Cyberene explained.
The scene of the desolate city vanished. In its place appeared another
scene. A city under construction. Giant building machines were placing
it together, and the parts that were completed were even more beautiful
than had been that other city.
Earl, from his vantage point, seemed to drop closer and drift over the
scene of construction to a part that was inhabited. He saw the people
below. They wore no clothes and didn't seem to mind. Each appeared to
be intent on going somewhere. None of them were talking or paying any
attention to one another. Their expressions were blank, their eyes
vacant.
The vantage point followed one of them. Shortly the man being followed
turned into an archway, up an incline, and into a large hall. He
went through a door into the room filled with cell-like vats. In
each transparent vat Earl saw a human embryo, alive and growing. He
"followed" the man through this place to another, where children were
playing with psychological toys designed to increase mechanical and
scientific aptitudes.
"This, too, is a typical scene on--this Earth," the Cyberene said.
The scene vanished. Once again Earl looked into the video eyes of the
Brain. "They are both Earth in the year 3042," the Cyberene said, "but
not the _same_ Earth. In 1980 there was a split. Earth followed two
independent futures. The first, filled with wars and eternal carnage,
ever more perfect weapons of destruction, developed from _one_ decision
you made. The second, my world, filled with perpetual peace and
happiness, developed from the alternative decision. _You_ created these
two futures."
"I?" Earl said. "You must be crazy. How?"
"In the first you discovered the vital nerve fluid that makes me
possible. You thought you were God. You thought you could see a
future in which I would work the human race harm. You suppressed your
discovery by the simple process of giving a negative lab report on
the substance. In the second world--_my_ world--you did as you were
supposed to do. You announced your discovery. _I_ came into being."
"You mean to say _my actions_ caused the whole planet to split into two
identical worlds?"
"In effect, yes. I'll try to explain. Matter and motion are not real in
the basic sense. They are properties of your mind. They are what your
finite mind sees; but reality is the space-time continuity of which one
instant is a cross-section. In effect, consciousness flows along the
time dimension which I term the fourth dimension. But in addition there
is a fifth dimension, so that these two Earths have the same space-time
coordinates in four dimensions, and two different ones in the fifth.
In Euclidean concepts, that other Earth is eighty-seven millionths of
an inch from this, in the fifth dimension. In that Earth I did not
develop. The Dome is still there, but the Brain, if it still exists,
was never activated. As a result, humanity continued its violent
progress through time, engaging in war after war.
"When I discovered time travel and saw all this I decided to go back
and contact you before your instant of decision and get you to release
the identity of the nerve fluid when you discover it _tomorrow_."
"Tomorrow?" Earl said.
"In your time."
"I see," Earl said. "Tomorrow I make the discovery. In one time stream
I tell Glassman. In the other I decide not to. _What made me decide not
to?_"
"You _thought_ the Brain would be bad for humanity. You were, of
course, wrong."
"Was I?" Earl said.
"In that other world, wars are the normal state of things. They
stem from problems that don't exist in my world. Over-population,
competition in trade in things that aren't necessary to human economy,
opposed political systems--all the foibles and inconsistencies of
untrained and unorganized populations."
"I understand that," Earl said. "Why don't your people wear clothes?"
"Clothes are unnecessary--one of the things I eliminated in reducing
the industrial economy to a minimum. Over-population? There is none.
People are made in the laboratory as they are needed. Their lives are
uncomplicated by animal problems such as reproduction, and artificial
customs such as modesty. Their education is simplified and factual,
their lives functional."
"And I made that decision all by myself?"
"Yes. That's why I have brought you here--to get you to change that
decision. You see, I must change the past. I must do that in order to
correct the future, make the other Earth a sane place, _dominated by a
second Cyberene which is a counterpart of me_."
* * * * *
"That's what I thought," Earl said with reckless boldness. "I'm
beginning to understand why I made my decision to suppress the
identity of the nerve substance. _You_ did that. The things I've seen.
You're just like dictators of our time. You think you're so right that
everyone will naturally agree with you. I don't. I think it's more
humane to let people come into the world as they will and have wars
that destroy them, than to decide just how many are to be born. You
need a new man in the garbage disposal plant in twenty years? Press a
button and he will be born in a few months. Going to have less to do in
some factory in twenty years? Keep the zombies from being born. Less
trouble than killing them off later to save on the food bill."
"I was afraid you might feel that way," the Cyberene said. "I have the
answer to it. Nadine Holmes. Make an accurate report tomorrow on the
tests. In return I will leave her in your time--even plant directives
so that she will always be a loving and devoted wife to you."
"I would prefer her as she is, naturally."
"Today her every outward manifestation was under my direct mental
control. Don't you see, Earl Frye? Just before you followed her into my
neatly laid trap to get you here, you watched her come up the hill, and
adored every line of her, every mannerism, every play of expression.
With one small corner of my mind I can _anticipate_ your wishes and
fulfill them in her--"
"It wouldn't be her," Earl said shaking his head. "And even if it were,
at the cost of billions of unborn generations? No."
"But you will do as I wish whether _you_ wish to or not. Why not obey
me freely and get this reward, rather than nothing?
"_I can control you._" The voice ended triumphantly.
"No!" It was a shuddering protest from Earl's lips, forcing itself out
against his wishes.
The throbbing ache at the base of his brain increased abruptly, slowly,
to measurable beats.
"I can control your body, your conscious mind, shoving _you_ into the
back recesses of thought. And when you try to come out, I can punish
you--like I'm doing now."
"No!" Earl screamed, his reserve breaking down completely.
Suddenly, into his cosmos of unbearable suffering and horror, filtered
a thought that created hope. Nadine had been _free_ during those first
hours he had met her. She had defied George Ladd. Unsuccessfully, but
she had defied him. And when they had sprawled through that doorway
to the future, for a moment he had seen that same _free_ Nadine in
her eyes, her expression. Or had she ever been free? The terrible
throbbing pain blurred his thinking. Had she been free in the smelter
where she attracted his attention while the others surrounded him? If
he had run directly to her he would have escaped being surrounded.
But....
Anger entered his mind like a little finger of thought. Anger at
Nadine? He was surprised. Confused. Then it came to him that it was not
_his_ anger. It came from outside. Alien.
From the depths of his own instincts fear welled up and became blind
panic, fighting against the _something_ that was growing stronger,
crowding around his soul, forcing it to retreat within itself, until
Earl Frye, his awareness of being Earl Frye, of being himself, was all
that remained, helpless to control or even to feel.
Through a mental fog he was aware that he had stood up, the glass
cage had lifted, and he was free to go--but not _he_! His body was
controlled by the Cyberene.
He was aware that he had left the dome to walk through a beautifully
landscaped garden to a building he had not seen before but which he
knew to be the 3042 end of the time tube. He was aware of pausing and
looking back at the Dome, now a thing of incredible beauty to him, the
repository of his physical vehicle, the Brain. But _not his_. The
Cyberene's.
* * * * *
He entered the time tube. He stepped from it onto grassy ground.
He went through the trees to the sidewalk. He returned to the lab
building, to his lab, to his living quarters.
He encountered Basil. He listened to himself talk, in casual tones,
normal tones. He was unable to control even his conscious thoughts. But
his consciousness was a thing apart from him.
He fought the domination of the Cyberene with arms that would not move,
with a tongue that would not utter his words, with a rage that would
not alter his calm and pleasant expression. He fought the pain that
throbbed within him. He fought to stay sane.
Slowly he began to adjust to his position. He no longer fought. He
was like a passenger in a plane who watches it take off, fly great
distances, and land, with no concern about the details. Having no
control whatever over his body, he was free of responsibility toward
its routine behavior. He became aware that pain had departed. The very
thing he had fought began to interest him. There must be some definite
mechanism--property of the mind--that made telepathic enslavement
possible in this way. Undoubtedly Nadine was also a free focus of
thought behind her enslaved surface.
She came into the lab at ten o'clock, cheerful but impersonal. He heard
himself talking to her in the same way. He could see her, listen to
her. Therefore, behind her impersonal eyes was the Nadine he had first
met, watching him, knowing what had happened. It gave him comfort to
know that. He had not lost her. She was _there_.
Knowing that, and knowing there was no way to communicate with her at
present, he turned his attention to what her body and his were doing.
"The silicones haven't been explored too thoroughly yet," she was
saying. "They have some disadvantages, but those can be eliminated
by additions to the ion rings to serve as protective buffers. I have
several of them in this tray I brought in. I'd like you to run them
through the tests."
Earl's eyes focused on the tray. They paused briefly on the formula of
the third one from the nearest end. Earl sensed that this was the long
sought for substance. He built up its theoretical structure. He saw at
once how it achieved its properties.
"I'll be back this afternoon," Nadine said. "By then you should have
your lab reports ready."
Then she was gone. Earl's hands went through the motions of pouring
each vial into a pump. He turned his attention away from the routine,
as a traveler in a passenger plane might turn from the window to
something else.
A feeling of hopelessness grew within him. How could he stop things or
interfere with them when he couldn't affect a muscle?
The Cyberene had been playing with him when it tried to get him to do
its bidding of his own free will. He realized that now. It would have
pleased its vanity if he had.
But this was too important to it for it to trust anything other than
itself.
When it was done? When the fluid was forced into the hundreds of
thousands of miles of hair-like glass tubing, the billions of fine
glass cells? It would never give him his freedom. It would be afraid of
what he might be able to do. So it would kill him.
Unless he could prevent the Brain from being activated. And unless he
were free to command his body, he could never do that.
What had the Cyberene said to him about time travel and alternate time
streams? The theories weren't exactly new. They had been explored in
imaginative fiction for over fifty years. No one had really thought
there might be some basis in fact for the theories.
What had caused the "split" which had produced two Earths in separate
time streams? The Cyberene hadn't seemed to know that detail--or if it
had it had brushed over it casually so as not to make him curious about
it.
_Was it events? Or was it something in the basic substratum of matter,
and the events were the result? That might be an important distinction._
If it were events, then bringing the Brain to life in this time stream
might eliminate the divergent streams, bringing them together as one.
That, in effect, might destroy the other world of 3042 A.D. Maybe that
was what the Cyberene intended.
But suppose he were able even yet to defeat the Cyberene's scheme. Then
the two time streams would remain unchanged. The free world of the
future would remain free. But that was not enough. He wanted to destroy
both Brains. How could he accomplish that, assuming he were able to
accomplish anything?
* * * * *
The logical time to do it would be in 1980--now--before the Cyberene
gained control of the world and made itself impregnable. But how? And
if he could figure that out, could he act if an opportunity arose?
Irene Conner came in at lunch time. "I had a wonderful time with Basil
last night," she said.
"I'm glad you did," Earl heard his voice say.
Hope leaped within him. Maybe the Cyberene would make some mistake that
would arouse suspicions in her. The hope died as the door to the hall
opened again and Nadine came in.
"You promised to take me to lunch, Earl," she said.
"Ready," Earl heard himself say.
It was evident that the Cyberene didn't intend him to be alone with any
of the others long enough for the possibility of something suspicious
to arise.
They went to a small cafe several blocks from the lab building. For
the benefit of anyone happening to be looking at them, they carried on
small talk while they ate. Earl found himself hanging onto every word
Nadine uttered, watching her every expression. He was so close to her,
yet so far away. It was like standing outside a window and watching her
while she seemed unaware of him.
He kept watching for the faintest flicker of expression that would
show the real Nadine. Slowly, without quite realizing it, he began to
pretend it _was_ Nadine. He listened to her small talk. He listened to
his, and at times forgot it wasn't actually his and that he couldn't
control one word of what he said.
He became happy. He let himself be aware of the flavor of the food. He
laughed within himself when his vocal cords laughed. He reached out and
touched Nadine's hand, thrilling to the feel of her soft skin.
She drew her hand back, a startled light in her eyes. It was gone the
next instant. Once more she was impersonal, _controlled_.
The dull, throbbing pain flared to torturing intensity within him,
blurring thought, _punishing_ him, forcing him behind his prison walls
of gray mental fog. But through the pain, apart from it, he experienced
a surge of hope. It had been _he_ who had reached out to Nadine. Not
the Cyberene controlling him!
Was there still hope? At two o'clock Nadine would pick up his lab
report sheets and turn them over to Glassman. Then the identity of the
ideal nerve fluid would be known. It would be out of his hands even if
he were in full control of his faculties.
He and Nadine rose. They were going back to the lab building. He raged
against the hidden mental barriers that contained him. He fought
frenziedly to influence some slight movement of his body.
He might as well have been a passenger on an ocean liner trying to
change the course of the thousands of tons of steel by thought alone
while standing at the rail.
His sphere of awareness grew clouded. He was raging against a mental
wall that became almost tangible. He stopped fighting from sheer
impotence--and the barrier retreated.
_The more I fight the more helpless I am._ That thought at once created
its corollary. _The less I struggle the closer I am to control!_
That was it! He had so identified his desires with the actions of his
body that for one instant he _meshed_ with it!
That, then, was the secret. The principle. But it contained within
itself its own difficulty. By "wanting" to activate the Brain he could
perhaps actually control some of his actions. But the instant he did
something counter to the Cyberene, that control would be taken away
from him, and replaced by throbbing pain.
He _had_ touched Nadine's hand though. It had been a gesture so
unconscious that the Cyberene had been unaware of it until it happened.
It was the right direction.
* * * * *
The possibility of what he wanted to do filled him with a sense of
defeat. It would be impossible to falsify the lab report on the nerve
fluid. One false word on the card, and the Cyberene would erase it and
fill the card out correctly.
He fought back the feeling of futility. He reached out, identifying
himself with every sensation from his body. He was walking. He _wanted_
to walk. He was talking. He _wanted_ to say what he heard himself say.
It would go along well, and then his body would do something he didn't
expect, and he would be filled with the realization that he had no
control. It would be a mental stumble while his body didn't falter.
During each brief period of identifying his desires with his actions,
he found his awareness of sensations expand until it was almost
complete identification--complete _meshing_.
Meshing until the gears were almost strong enough to grip--for a brief
second. Perhaps in time they would grip for more than a second before
alarm bells rang for the Cyberene.
He was alone in his lab. He was placing the fine tubes of test
substances in their respective instrument cabinets. Ordinarily he did
this almost automatically. Now he watched his every move, building up
interest in it, _desiring_ to do everything he did, anticipating what
he would do next and wanting to do it, pretending it was he who issued
the commands to his muscles.
The crucial moment was just ahead. He had stepped to the instrument
case that held the key fluid. He started to write down the readings
from the instruments. His fingers shook, and it was _his_ nervousness
that shook them.
A "mistake" in the readings here and there would do it. Speed of ion
travel: The meter said two thousand plus feet per second. His fingers
wrote the two and a zero. Before he could write the second zero he
tried to write the plus sign. Triumphantly he saw his fingers obey his
will.
Abruptly they paused--and he was aware that a power outside his will
had made them pause.
Throbbing pain surged up to full intensity, enveloping him, sickening
him so that his soul was a writhing thing, unable to think or feel
anything other than pain. Slowly it lessened--or was he growing better
able to suffer it? Thoughts filtered in to him through gray mists
clouding his mind.
He saw his hands fill out the rest of the card correctly. He was dimly
aware of rushing excitedly from the lab, down the hall, shouting that
he had found it.
Others were joining him as he hurried to Glassman's office and burst
in, waving the card.
Glassman seized it, his eyes afire with the fulfillment of his Dream.
And it was too late. Too late now to erase the knowledge of the
identity of that fluid from Glassman's mind, from the minds of the
other nine scientists crowding around him, congratulating him.
It was too late.
That realization crowded out everything else. The Cyberene had won.
* * * * *
"We want to put it through every test conceivable," Glassman said.
"All ten of you drop everything else and work on it. Get the speed of
impulse down to the last fraction of an inch per second. Get behavior
in different sized tubes. Find the least diameter of the fluid column
for non-function. Everything. We want to be _sure_ before we start
pumping two hundred and fifty thousand gallons of the stuff into the
Brain."
Dr. Glassman's eyes were afire with the triumph of success. "The dream
of my life has come true," he said. "The Brain will live! It will live
forever, growing wiser than any man or any group of men. It will remake
the world. Civilization. It will end wars. It will guide mankind into a
garden of Eden. Utopia. It was _my_ dream for mankind."
He became aware of those watching him. The fire of fanaticism left
his eyes. He relaxed, and laughed embarrassedly. "But right now
congratulations are in order for Dr. Frye. He's the one who has found
the substance that makes it possible."
Nadine had been standing quietly on the sidelines, almost forgotten
in this moment. She came forward now and extended her hand.
"Congratulations, Dr. Frye," she said.
It was for effect. Earl heard himself say, "Maybe _you_ are the one who
should get the credit." He paid little attention. It was a show, an
opera, and his body and hers were players reciting lines from a script.
But her hand in his was warm. He clung to the feel of it, thinking
bitterly that now there was nothing else. What would become of him? He
didn't care.
He sunk into a mood of utter defeat. It was all the worse, he realized,
because right now, if the Cyberene had not come into the picture, if he
had been left to himself, he would be deliriously happy--just as his
own exterior self was seeming to be.
After a while he was back in the lab. His body was working on more
elaborate experiments with the fluid. His vocal cords were humming a
tune in a tone of absent-minded happiness.
He wished fervently that there were some way he could be wiped out
completely. Gray walls around his awareness were not enough. Not with
the unbearable suffering.
The hours passed slowly for him. He tried not to think, to remain
passive. It was no use. His bitterness was too strong. His sense of
defeat was too overpowering.
His eyes glanced up at the door as it opened, then down at his wrist
watch. It was three minutes after five. Nadine was in the doorway.
"It's time to go Earl," she said.
Go? Where? But his body hastily putting things in order as though it
knew.
They left the building together, walked along the sidewalk as though
they might be headed toward some dinner rendezvous. They left the
sidewalk, and then Earl knew. They were going to the entrance to the
time tube. They were going back to the year 3042. Why? He should have
remained. Maybe this would create suspicion. But even as he thought
that, he knew it wouldn't. Everyone would think he and Nadine were at
some restaurant, perhaps later at some night spot. No one would bother
to check and see if he came back to his rooms.
Ahead was the clear spot with its smooth convex depression. And the
shimmering refraction in the air. Side by side he and Nadine walked
toward it--and were in a corridor, the woodland scene wiped out.
No unusual sensation of any kind. Stepping across a thousand years was
no different than crossing the threshold of a doorway.
George Ladd was there waiting for them. "The Cyberene wants to see both
of you," he said. Nothing more. No paralysis gun, no guards to keep
Earl from escaping. But he couldn't escape. He couldn't move a muscle
of his own volition. "Okay," he heard himself say casually.
He and Nadine left the building and went through the beautiful park to
the Dome. Inside, they walked along the seemingly roofless slightly
curving corridor. He went to a small red square and stood on it. Out of
the corner of his eye he saw Nadine do the same. From above, the glass
boxes were lowered over them.
_Something left him._ Without having tested the feeling, he knew that
he was in full possession of himself. He could command and his body,
his voice, would obey.
He turned toward the glass wall facing Nadine. He pressed against it.
She was doing the same.
"Nadine!" he said, and it was a greeting, a caress.
"Earl!"
And they were drinking in one another with their eyes.
* * * * *
"Very touching," a voice said. "One would think you are in love with
her, Earl Frye."
"Oh no. I--That is...." Earl stopped in amazement at the self
revelation.
"Look at her," the Cyberene's voice said. "In spite of most careful
conditioning starting in the lab tank in her pre-breathing stage, she
feels the same way about you."
Nadine's lips were trembling with a smile. She was nodding.
Earl was irritated. "Did you bring me here just to tell me that?" he
asked. "Or to torture me further?" he added bitterly.
"No. I brought you here to show you that I'm grateful. You did what
I wanted done. The fact that it was done in spite of you makes no
difference. It's done and can't be undone by you. You realize that?"
"To gloat. I might have known," Earl said contemptuously.
"Not that either. I want to reward you. I've thoroughly explored your
mind. I know that if you give your word, you will keep it. I understand
a little about your feeling on personal freedom. Now that the vital
fluid is known to enough people so that nothing you can do would undo
that, I'm willing to let you have Nadine. The real Nadine."
"Yes?" Earl said warily.
"Yes. All I ask in return is your promise not to try to undo anything,
and to go ahead with your work without ever mentioning what has
happened. Once you give your promise, I will let you and Nadine go to
your time and stay there, free agents."
Earl frowned. "I don't get it," he said. "I didn't expect anything like
this from you."
"You thought that after I had by-passed you and accomplished my purpose
I would eliminate you?" The Cyberene laughed. "You will find that
I'm a very benevolent master." The video eyes seemed to glisten with
joviality.
"I still don't get it," Earl said, puzzled. "You want my word that I
won't interfere with anything you do from here on in."
"Yes. After all, there is a lot to do yet before the Brain in your time
stream is activated. I must--"
"So!" Earl interrupted. "According to your theory of time that you so
carefully explained to me, the discovery of the vital nerve substance
should have fixed up everything. It didn't."
"The Brain hasn't been activated yet in your time stream. When it has,
then the future will reshape itself."
"I want to understand," Earl said. "As I understand it, some act, some
_crucial_ act, must be changed from the way it happened in the past--in
my future in that past. Until that crucial moment is changed from the
way it happened, all the future stemming from it remains unaltered. The
instant that crucial moment is changed, presto--the whole future from
1980 right down to 3042 does a mighty flip flop and _right here and
now_, in that other Earth so close to this one, things will change as
abruptly as the change of scene on a screen."
"That's correct."
"Then getting my lab reports correct wasn't the thing. There is still
something to come, back there, that must be changed? In spite of
everything up to now, you are still facing defeat? That's why you are
willing to offer me so much?"
"You misunderstand my motives," the Cyberene said.
"I don't think so. You aren't dealing with a mind-slave now. You may
be non-human, but you're a thinking mind. You have desires, motives
for doing things, ways of doing them. In other words, you're a type.
In offering me everything I want, you're out of your type--unless
there's something you want that you can't get any other way. When I
came in here I was licked. All I wanted was to die. Now I'm not so
sure. I'm not even sure you know what you're doing. I have _hope. Do
you understand that?_" Earl was trembling violently, a mixture of
emotions coursing through him. "I'm going to destroy you before I'm
done. You're going to take control of me again and try to prevent that.
You don't know whether you can or not because _you can't go into your
future_. You can't even go into the past in any detail. How do I know
that? I'm a scientist. I'm trained to put two and two together and get
four. If you could go anywhere in the past you could have explored
every detail of my future and know now what happened."
"Perhaps I do know," the Cyberene said. "You forget I'm attempting
to _change_ what happened. I have changed what happened. In the time
stream the way it was originally, you discovered the right nerve fluid,
and suppressed it. You faked a negative report on it. I've changed that
much of the past already."
"Have you?" Earl said dully, his emotion spent. "All right then. Don't
mind me. You're not going to get any promise from me no matter how much
you torture me." His voice changed to cold bitterness. "I'm going to
fight you to the end--and win. I don't know how, but the very fact that
you haven't changed the present of that other Earth proves you haven't
succeeded yet--and won't. _I'll_ win. Then I'll destroy you, and Nadine
and I can be free."
But somewhere along the line the Cyberene had taken control again.
Earl wasn't quite sure when his vocal cords stopped obeying his mental
commands.
His body was standing quietly. He could not affect it. The gray walls
were closing in around him, the pain growing. He didn't fight it. He
welcomed the gray walls that clouded the channels to his conscious mind.
He sensed dimly that he and Nadine were going back the way they had
come. Back to the time tube. Back to 1980, to what might be the final
battle.
He was alone in his living quarters. He was aware of sleeping. Then it
was morning, and he crept cautiously into his conscious mind, a hurt
and wounded soul. And his conscious mind was serene and happy, unaware
of his suffering as it began its day's work.
* * * * *
"Hi, Earl."
Earl looked up with a smile. "Hello, Basil. How's things going with you
and Irene?"
Basil smiled wryly. "Well ... at least she's discovered that I'm a
pretty fair dancer. She envies you. I guess I do too. You have all the
luck."
"Nonsense! Discovering the right substance was like winning the Irish
Sweepstakes."
"That's what I mean. You did nothing more than any of the rest of us.
It was pure chance that the right stuff was on a tray given to you to
test. But in the history books your name will get the credit--just like
it took brains."
Earl shrugged. "I'm afraid all our names will be left out. Dr. Glassman
will get the credit. He master-minded the whole thing. He deserves the
credit, too. The rest of us are just damned good chemists. That's all.
He took the risks. If it hadn't paid off, the Dome would have been
known as Glassman's Folly."
"Something in that," Basil said. "By the way, what have you found out
about Nadine? You two seem quite palsy walsy now."
"She's what she claims to be," Earl said.
"Is she?" Basil said, his eyes narrowing. "I think you're lying. Matter
of fact, you're different than you were. What's come over you?"
"Nothing, Basil."
"Nothing, he says," Basil said mournfully to the bench he was sitting
on. "What's happened to you? Have you been bought?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Nadine came here under mysterious circumstances,
to say the least. You were hot on the trail of something. You wanted me
to help you follow her. I couldn't, because Irene had given me my first
chance to date her. So you followed her by yourself. What happened?"
"Sure," Earl said. "She went to the best hotel in town. I called her on
a house phone and asked her to have dinner with me. She did."
"Did she tell you how she happened to be only four inches high and
naked when you first met her?"
Earl stared at Basil in mock astonishment. "Basil," he said softly.
"Haven't you ever heard of that terrible scourge of the human
race--alcohol?"
"Don't give me that!" Basil said, his nostrils flaring. "You were stone
sober. I was with you for an hour while you bought those clothes and
patiently gathered fashion magazines that would show a dame who didn't
know the first thing about it how to put them on. I saw Nadine in
this lab, being carried off by a man. I was paralyzed by a ray gun or
something from a gun. So were you."
"He's right, Earl."
Both men turned toward the door. It was Nadine. She closed the door and
came into the lab.
"Maybe we should take him with us, Earl," she said. "If we don't,
he's going to think the worst things about us. I know we swore you to
secrecy, but he could wreck everything."
"Maybe you're right," Earl said.
"Oh no," Basil said, edging toward the door. "They _did_ something to
you, Earl. I'm not going to give them a chance to do the same thing to
me."
"Don't be a fool," Earl said. "Let me at least explain things."
* * * * *
Nadine was edging toward the door to cut off Basil's escape. He saw
this, and leaped past her to the door, pulling it open.
"Come back here and let me explain," Earl heard himself say.
"You can explain to the Secret Service," Basil said.
He shut the door on them. An impulse made him turn toward Dr.
Glassman's office. He would tell him first, and if that didn't get
results he would go to the S. S. boys.
He knocked on Glassman's door and pushed it open without waiting for an
invitation.
"Dr. Glassman," he said quickly, "something very suspicious is going on
around here. I should have told you about it sooner, but I thought Earl
would be able to explain his actions, and Nadine's. Have you looked
into her credentials? She isn't what she claims. I know, but I don't
know how I'm going to prove it right now. She's done something to Earl.
He isn't the same. They're in this together."
"Just a minute, Dr. Nelson," Glassman cut in. "Are you trying to say
that Dr. Frye and Dr. Holmes are in on some mad scheme to sabotage the
Brain? You must be mad. Why, Dr. Frye discovered the chemical we've
spent close to a million dollars searching for!"
"I know that," Basil said doggedly, "but just the same--"
"You're out of your mind. What are you trying to do? Curry favor with
me at the expense of innocent and hard working people? I've a good
notion to discharge you on the spot."
"You've got to listen to--"
"Get out. I'll hear no more of it."
Basil stared at him blankly, then nodded. "All right," he said, "but
you're going to have to listen later. I'm taking it to the Secret
Service. They'll have to listen."
He backed out, closing the door on Glassman's angry face. When he
turned to go down the hall he saw Earl and Nadine coming toward him.
With them was George Ladd, his right hand in his suit coat pocket over
something bulging--the paralysis gun, maybe.
Basil turned the other way and down another hall, running with a speed
born of fear and determination. He knew now he had been right.
A door opened. Irene came out, almost bumping into him. "Where are you
going in such a hurry, Basil?" she demanded.
"Can't explain now," he said. She stood in his way. "Come with me," he
said desperately. "I'll explain on the way. Hurry."
She nodded. Together they ran down the hall and reached the side exit.
Taking Irene's hand, Basil plunged away from the sidewalk through
scattered trees, until they reached the parking lot. He unlocked his
car with shaking fingers and told Irene to get in. He rushed around to
the driver's side.
The motor caught instantly. He started with a clash of gears. In the
rear view mirror he saw George Ladd running toward him. Then he reached
the street--and almost immediately was slowed by heavy traffic.
Groaning under his breath, he made the best time he could. Irene
watched him silently for two blocks.
"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?" she asked abruptly.
"He's after me," Basil said. "We've got to get there before he can stop
me. You can listen when I tell the Secret Service about it."
Ahead was a traffic jam. Basil turned into a side street where he made
better time. It was taking him forever to get there. But finally his
destination was just ahead. The office building where the S. S. had its
local office.
There was a parking space. Basil swerved toward it and braked to a
stop. He reached past Irene and opened her door.
"Get out and run for it," he said.
The screech of tires almost drowned his voice. He looked over his
shoulder. A car had pulled up beside his in the street. He saw George
Ladd behind the wheel, alone.
Frantically, Basil pushed Irene out and followed her, taking her hand
as they ran toward the building entrance fifteen feet away.
"We've got to make it," he said. "We've got to...."
There was no sound, no light, from the weapon George Ladd pointed at
them.
Basil sprawled forward. Before he hit the sidewalk, flame burst from
his hair, his clothing.
Irene stopped, forgetting her danger or not knowing it. She bent down
by Basil, reaching to help him. She remained in that position for
a long second while her hair and clothing burst into flames, then
crumpled against him.
Horrified pedestrians drew back from the bodies, the stench of seared
flesh. In the street a motor roared into life. The car with George Ladd
sped away.
* * * * *
Earl turned away from the window. "George Ladd just brought my car
back," he said. "I guess he isn't coming in. He's walking into the
woods toward the tube entrance."
Nadine nodded casually.
Within his mental prison Earl worried. What had Ladd done? He wouldn't
dare to kill Basil. The worst that could happen would be that Basil
would be taken before the Cyberene and made him into a mind-slave too.
There were footsteps in the hall. The door opened. It was Dr. Glassman,
his lips set in a grim line.
"Dr. Frye," Glassman said. "Basil came to me with a story of something
going on he didn't like. He accused you and Dr. Holmes of some scheme
to sabotage the Brain."
"That's utter nonsense," Earl heard himself say.
"Why, I can't understand--" Nadine began.
"I thought so too," Glassman said, "until I received a telephone call
from the police just now. Basil and Irene were killed a few moments ago
while on their way to try to get the Secret Service to listen to what I
refused to hear."
"Oh," Nadine said without expression. Earl said nothing. He was too
stunned to think.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Glassman went on grimly. "You
may both consider yourselves relieved of your duties until the Secret
Service has investigated thoroughly. Save your explanations until I've
called them."
Earl tried to warn Glassman. He forced his lips open to call to
him--and a wave of searing throbbing pain lashed at him, forcing him
back behind the gray fog.
Through the mental haze he saw George Ladd in the doorway, a
thirty-eight Colt automatic in his hand--something Glassman would
understand.
"Come with me, Dr. Glassman," Ladd said expressionlessly.
* * * * *
When Glassman returned an hour later, to all outward appearances he was
unchanged, except that he made no mention of the deaths of Basil and
Irene. Nor did he say anything about suspending Earl and Nadine.
From his own experience Earl knew that one part of Glassman was raging
against his mental prison, perhaps feeling the sadistic torture with
which the Cyberene kept him chained.
By a supreme effort Earl pulled himself away from thinking about what
had happened. It multiplied his determination to free himself enough to
defeat the Cyberene and destroy it. But raging impotently against the
Brain's control wouldn't accomplish a thing.
Little by little he willed himself back to a frame of thought where he
could reach out into his conscious mind again, matching his thoughts
and moods with it. It had somehow "forgotten" much of what had
happened to Basil and Irene and Glassman. It was thinking about Nadine.
Earl thought about her too. She loved him. She didn't know what love
was, but it was there, revealed in the brief moment she had been free
to express herself. Was that love now making her try to overthrow the
slavery of the Cyberene? Probably not. She was conditioned to accept
that inhuman intellect as her master.
Earl shoved the real Nadine from his thoughts and dwelt on the Nadine
that was manifest. She was easy to love too--and why not? She was
everything that the true Nadine was--except that she was not the
_complete_ Nadine. She was falling in love with him too. And his own
conscious mind was in love with her. Why not make the most of it?
He inserted the idea into his conscious thoughts, and to his delight no
alarm bells rang. The Cyberene didn't interfere.
"Let's go to a dance tonight after work," he said.
"A dance? I don't know how to dance."
"I'll teach you. It isn't hard to pick up."
"All right," Nadine said.
Earl worked hard the rest of the day. Tank trucks were bringing the
nerve fluid to the Dome in a never ending stream. Every load had to
be tested before it was unloaded into the storage tanks, to make sure
its quality was up to standard. One five thousand gallon load could
contaminate it all.
At six o'clock he was relieved of his work. He dressed eagerly, finding
no difficulty in _meshing_ one hundred per cent with the desires of his
conscious mind. He picked up Nadine at her hotel.
Crestmont boasted only two places worth going. One was just a dance
floor, the other The Barn, with a small orchestra and dinners.
"The orchestra isn't as good here at The Barn," Earl said when they
went in, "but we can have a table and enjoy ourselves."
They ordered their dinner. The orchestra started playing and soon the
floor was fairly crowded. Earl took Nadine's hand and led her to the
dance floor. After a few steps she discovered that she could dance
quite easily. It delighted her.
They returned to their table finally, and ate. Afterward they danced
again. Two of the other scientists were there with their partners. They
nodded at Earl and Nadine but didn't join them.
During all this, Earl was careful not to insert any feeling, any
impulse of his own into his conscious mind. What he intended to do
must come as a surprise to both Nadine and the Cyberene, and afterwards
they must think it to be the product of that conscious mind--not Earl
himself.
His opportunity arose naturally. While they were dancing he spoke
to her. She lifted her face to smile at him. Swiftly he kissed her,
letting his lips linger until the throbbing and an angriness beat into
him and a power outside himself pulled him back.
He retreated in his mind, afraid even to think, lest the Cyberene sense
his thoughts and realize what he had been trying.
"Why did you do that?" he heard Nadine say from a great distance,
through waves of torture.