They opened a door and entered an office. Behind the desk, an officer
was sitting, an officer of Internal Security. He looked up.
"I'll be right with you, Moss." He gazed at Taylor studying him. "You're
a little ahead of time."
"This is Commander Franks," Moss said to Taylor. "He was the first to
make the discovery. I was notified last night." He tapped a parcel he
carried. "I was let in because of this."
Franks frowned at him and stood up. "We're going up to first stage. We
can discuss it there."
"First stage?" Taylor repeated nervously. The three of them went down a
side passage to a small lift. "I've never been up there. Is it all
right? It's not radioactive, is it?"
"You're like everyone else," Franks said. "Old women afraid of burglars.
No radiation leaks down to first stage. There's lead and rock, and what
comes down the Tube is bathed."
"What's the nature of the problem?" Taylor asked. "I'd like to know
something about it."
"In a moment."
They entered the lift and ascended. When they stepped out, they were in
a hall of soldiers, weapons and uniforms everywhere. Taylor blinked in
surprise. So this was first stage, the closest undersurface level to the
top! After this stage there was only rock, lead and rock, and the great
tubes leading up like the burrows of earthworms. Lead and rock, and
above that, where the tubes opened, the great expanse that no living
being had seen for eight years, the vast, endless ruin that had once
been Man's home, the place where he had lived, eight years ago.
Now the surface was a lethal desert of slag and rolling clouds. Endless
clouds drifted back and forth, blotting out the red Sun. Occasionally
something metallic stirred, moving through the remains of a city,
threading its way across the tortured terrain of the countryside. A
leady, a surface robot, immune to radiation, constructed with feverish
haste in the last months before the cold war became literally hot.
Leadys, crawling along the ground, moving over the oceans or through the
skies in slender, blackened craft, creatures that could exist where no
_life_ could remain, metal and plastic figures that waged a war Man had
conceived, but which he could not fight himself. Human beings had
invented war, invented and manufactured the weapons, even invented the
players, the fighters, the actors of the war. But they themselves could
not venture forth, could not wage it themselves. In all the world--in
Russia, in Europe, America, Africa--no living human being remained. They
were under the surface, in the deep shelters that had been carefully
planned and built, even as the first bombs began to fall.
It was a brilliant idea and the only idea that could have worked. Up
above, on the ruined, blasted surface of what had once been a living
planet, the leady crawled and scurried, and fought Man's war. And
undersurface, in the depths of the planet, human beings toiled endlessly
to produce the weapons to continue the fight, month by month, year by
year.
* * * * *
"First stage," Taylor said. A strange ache went through him. "Almost to
the surface."
"But not quite," Moss said.
Franks led them through the soldiers, over to one side, near the lip of
the Tube.
"In a few minutes, a lift will bring something down to us from the
surface," he explained. "You see, Taylor, every once in a while Security
examines and interrogates a surface leady, one that has been above for a
time, to find out certain things. A vidcall is sent up and contact is
made with a field headquarters. We need this direct interview; we can't
depend on vidscreen contact alone. The leadys are doing a good job, but
we want to make certain that everything is going the way we want it."
Franks faced Taylor and Moss and continued: "The lift will bring down a
leady from the surface, one of the A-class leadys. There's an
examination chamber in the next room, with a lead wall in the center, so
the interviewing officers won't be exposed to radiation. We find this
easier than bathing the leady. It is going right back up; it has a job
to get back to.
"Two days ago, an A-class leady was brought down and interrogated. I
conducted the session myself. We were interested in a new weapon the
Soviets have been using, an automatic mine that pursues anything that
moves. Military had sent instructions up that the mine be observed and
reported in detail.
"This A-class leady was brought down with information. We learned a few
facts from it, obtained the usual roll of film and reports, and then
sent it back up. It was going out of the chamber, back to the lift, when
a curious thing happened. At the time, I thought--"
Franks broke off. A red light was flashing.
"That down lift is coming." He nodded to some soldiers. "Let's enter the
chamber. The leady will be along in a moment."
"An A-class leady," Taylor said. "I've seen them on the showscreens,
making their reports."
"It's quite an experience," Moss said. "They're almost human."
* * * * *
They entered the chamber and seated themselves behind the lead wall.
After a time, a signal was flashed, and Franks made a motion with his
hands.
The door beyond the wall opened. Taylor peered through his view slot. He
saw something advancing slowly, a slender metallic figure moving on a
tread, its arm grips at rest by its sides. The figure halted and scanned
the lead wall. It stood, waiting.
"We are interested in learning something," Franks said. "Before I
question you, do you have anything to report on surface conditions?"
"No. The war continues." The leady's voice was automatic and toneless.
"We are a little short of fast pursuit craft, the single-seat type. We
could use also some--"
"That has all been noted. What I want to ask you is this. Our contact
with you has been through vidscreen only. We must rely on indirect
evidence, since none of us goes above. We can only infer what is going
on. We never see anything ourselves. We have to take it all secondhand.
Some top leaders are beginning to think there's too much room for
error."
"Error?" the leady asked. "In what way? Our reports are checked
carefully before they're sent down. We maintain constant contact with
you; everything of value is reported. Any new weapons which the enemy is
seen to employ--"
"I realize that," Franks grunted behind his peep slot. "But perhaps we
should see it all for ourselves. Is it possible that there might be a
large enough radiation-free area for a human party to ascend to the
surface? If a few of us were to come up in lead-lined suits, would we be
able to survive long enough to observe conditions and watch things?"
The machine hesitated before answering. "I doubt it. You can check air
samples, of course, and decide for yourselves. But in the eight years
since you left, things have continually worsened. You cannot have any
real idea of conditions up there. It has become difficult for any moving
object to survive for long. There are many kinds of projectiles
sensitive to movement. The new mine not only reacts to motion, but
continues to pursue the object indefinitely, until it finally reaches
it. And the radiation is everywhere."
"I see." Franks turned to Moss, his eyes narrowed oddly. "Well, that was
what I wanted to know. You may go."
The machine moved back toward its exit. It paused. "Each month the
amount of lethal particles in the atmosphere increases. The tempo of the
war is gradually--"
"I understand." Franks rose. He held out his hand and Moss passed him
the package. "One thing before you leave. I want you to examine a new
type of metal shield material. I'll pass you a sample with the tong."
Franks put the package in the toothed grip and revolved the tong so that
he held the other end. The package swung down to the leady, which took
it. They watched it unwrap the package and take the metal plate in its
hands. The leady turned the metal over and over.
Suddenly it became rigid.
"All right," Franks said.
He put his shoulder against the wall and a section slid aside. Taylor
gasped--Franks and Moss were hurrying up to the leady!
"Good God!" Taylor said. "But it's radioactive!"
* * * * *
The leady stood unmoving, still holding the metal. Soldiers appeared in
the chamber. They surrounded the leady and ran a counter across it
carefully.
"Okay, sir," one of them said to Franks. "It's as cold as a long winter
evening."
"Good. I was sure, but I didn't want to take any chances."
"You see," Moss said to Taylor, "this leady isn't hot at all. Yet it
came directly from the surface, without even being bathed."
"But what does it mean?" Taylor asked blankly.
"It may be an accident," Franks said. "There's always the possibility
that a given object might escape being exposed above. But this is the
second time it's happened that we know of. There may be others."
"The second time?"
"The previous interview was when we noticed it. The leady was not hot.
It was cold, too, like this one."
Moss took back the metal plate from the leady's hands. He pressed the
surface carefully and returned it to the stiff, unprotesting fingers.
"We shorted it out with this, so we could get close enough for a
thorough check. It'll come back on in a second now. We had better get
behind the wall again."
They walked back and the lead wall swung closed behind them. The
soldiers left the chamber.
"Two periods from now," Franks said softly, "an initial investigating
party will be ready to go surface-side. We're going up the Tube in
suits, up to the top--the first human party to leave undersurface in
eight years."
"It may mean nothing," Moss said, "but I doubt it. Something's going on,
something strange. The leady told us no life could exist above without
being roasted. The story doesn't fit."
Taylor nodded. He stared through the peep slot at the immobile metal
figure. Already the leady was beginning to stir. It was bent in several
places, dented and twisted, and its finish was blackened and charred. It
was a leady that had been up there a long time; it had seen war and
destruction, ruin so vast that no human being could imagine the extent.
It had crawled and slunk in a world of radiation and death, a world
where no life could exist.
And Taylor had touched it!
"You're going with us," Franks said suddenly. "I want you along. I think
the three of us will go."
* * * * *
Mary faced him with a sick and frightened expression. "I know it. You're
going to the surface. Aren't you?"
She followed him into the kitchen. Taylor sat down, looking away from
her.
"It's a classified project," he evaded. "I can't tell you anything about
it."
"You don't have to tell me. I know. I knew it the moment you came in.
There was something on your face, something I haven't seen there for a
long, long time. It was an old look."
She came toward him. "But how can they send you to the surface?" She
took his face in her shaking hands, making him look at her. There was a
strange hunger in her eyes. "Nobody can live up there. Look, look at
this!"
She grabbed up a newspaper and held it in front of him.
"Look at this photograph. America, Europe, Asia, Africa--nothing but
ruins. We've seen it every day on the showscreens. All destroyed,
poisoned. And they're sending you up. Why? No living thing can get by up
there, not even a weed, or grass. They've wrecked the surface, haven't
they? _Haven't they?_"
Taylor stood up. "It's an order. I know nothing about it. I was told to
report to join a scout party. That's all I know."
He stood for a long time, staring ahead. Slowly, he reached for the
newspaper and held it up to the light.
"It looks real," he murmured. "Ruins, deadness, slag. It's convincing.
All the reports, photographs, films, even air samples. Yet we haven't
seen it for ourselves, not after the first months ..."
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing." He put the paper down. "I'm leaving early after the next
Sleep Period. Let's turn in."
Mary turned away, her face hard and harsh. "Do what you want. We might
just as well all go up and get killed at once, instead of dying slowly
down here, like vermin in the ground."
He had not realized how resentful she was. Were they all like that? How
about the workers toiling in the factories, day and night, endlessly?
The pale, stooped men and women, plodding back and forth to work,
blinking in the colorless light, eating synthetics--
"You shouldn't be so bitter," he said.
Mary smiled a little. "I'm bitter because I know you'll never come
back." She turned away. "I'll never see you again, once you go up
there."