Hawkes leaned forward cautiously as the gray sedan moved up Tenth
Avenue. His finger found the gun in Dan's coat pocket; and he pulled
it out stealthily.
He knew that the only answer for him was suicide. He had to destroy
himself, since no one else could!
He propped it up, pointing at his head, and his thumb pressed back on
the trigger, further and further, until he felt sure the smallest
change would set it off. Then he waited for the rough spot in the
street or the sudden stop at a light that would do the trick before he
could stop it.
The car lurched--and the gun suddenly vanished, leaving his hand
empty.
His responses were too quick--and his mind wasn't waiting, once it
knew there was danger. He slumped back on the rear seat, trying to
think. Drugs were out--he knew his system could throw them off.
But he couldn't remove himself!
He lifted his wrist--to his teeth, and bit down savagely. If he could
sever an artery.... Pain shot through him, and he stared down at the
blood.
Then the blood was gone, and the wound was closing before his eyes,
until only smooth flesh remained. His mind could juggle the cells back
into their original form.
It would have to be sudden, complete death.
And no death was that sudden! For a fraction of a second, there'd be
life left--and during that split second, the damage would be repaired,
or he would be shifted from danger.
There was no way out--unless he could pull himself to another planet,
or throw himself back into the dim past. But that would take voluntary
control, and he knew now that hours of effort had shown him how
impossible that was. He hadn't been able to lift a crumb of bread from
the table deliberately, in his original tests after he had treated
himself.
He was faced with a problem that had to be solved--and there was no
possible solution that he could find.
No man could face that dilemma forever without going insane. Hawkes
shuddered, trying to picture what would happen if he went mad, and the
wild talents began operating at every whim of his crazed mind!
* * * * *
Ellen shouted suddenly, grabbing for the wheel. Hawkes felt himself
tense, and began lifting from the seat of the car. But there was no
visible danger, and Dan was slowing to a halt at the curb, Hawkes'
body dropped back slowly.
"Dan," Ellen was whispering hoarsely. "Dan, we can't. If we take him
back, they'll find him, and they'll know what he can do. They'll kill
him. Eventually, they'll kill Will!"
Hawkes started to protest, but Dan's words cut him short.
"You're right, Sis. They'll wait their time, until he won't know when
to expect it--and then they'll drop an H-bomb on him, if they have to.
That's faster than any nerve impulse!"
He swung back to face Hawkes, reaching for the door of the car. "Get
out, Will--and get as far away as you can. I'm not going to drive you
to your death. They'll get you eventually, but I won't be the one to
make it easier for them!"
Hawkes jerked. The old fear came back suddenly.
_You can't escape! They'll get you. Run! GO!_
He screamed, as the golden haze flickered again. He could wipe out the
Earth, but he couldn't survive, then. He could move back in time, but
it would only mean other dangers--no man could stay awake forever, and
he was used to civilized living.
The haze hesitated, while the sense of danger mounted. Then it was
gone, as if the beast in his head had found no answer.
Suddenly the gray sedan lifted again, to a height of fifty feet above
the tallest building. It shot forward, hesitated, and came down softly
on a deserted side-road in Central Park.
His mind felt as if it were going to split. Dan and Ellen stared at
him speechlessly.
_You can't survive alone! No power is enough by itself! They'll get
you! You are your own death-sentence! RUN! DON'T RUN!_
Hawkes put his hand to his splitting skull, trying to force words
through the agonies of pain, while slow understanding began to reach
him.
"Dan! The scientists ... get me there!"
Then his mind seemed to clamp down on itself, and he was unconscious.
He could protect himself from almost anything--except his own brain!
* * * * *
He was conscious of no pain, but only of irritation. There was a
needle in his arm, and he removed it!
He opened his eyes slowly, to find himself the center of a group of
men, while a white-clothed doctor stood staring at an empty hand that
must have held a hypodermic.
Ellen cried out suddenly, and ran to him, cradling his head in her
hands. He found her arm with his own hand, and stroked it slowly.
"You've found the answer?" he asked. Then he nodded, while the weight
that had lain on him so long began to lift. His voice was suddenly
positive. "You found it!"
One of the men pushed forward, but Dan shook his head, and came over
to stand beside the cot where Hawkes lay. "No, Will. They didn't find
it--you did! You found what we should have known--your unconscious
mind may be a wild beast, but it isn't insane. When it was shocked
into realizing that it couldn't save you by itself, it looked for help
from your consciousness. And then it knocked you out--knocked itself
out--until we could work on you."
"I guessed it," Hawkes said slowly. "But in that case, a psychotic
with his id out in the driver's seat should become normal when they
lock him up. Or wait--maybe his unconsciousness is a bit insane.
Maybe. But you still have to communicate with that unconscious part of
the brain, to make it understand that it has to surrender. And all the
psychiatrists have been driving themselves crazy trying to solve
that!"
"_Touche_," an older man said, and there was a faint sound of
amusement from some of the others. "But this psi factor is the means
of communication! You told us that yourself, while you were undergoing
our hastily improvised hypnotic education of your brain. It always has
been. The minute a girl bothered with poltergeists finds she is the
cause of them, they stop. It's a faint, weak channel between
consciousness and unconsciousness--or subconsciousness, if you prefer.
And yours was widened by the treatment, even if it wasn't ready to
work yet. We simply used your own technique to improve the
relationship. All you ever needed was a longer, harder treatment than
you and Meinzer had given yourselves. You just stopped too soon."
* * * * *
Hawkes dropped back comfortably onto the cot. He reached out for a
glass of water, lifted it to his lips, and put it back--without using
his hands. He thought of his clothes, and they were suddenly on him,
over the single white garment he had been wearing. Another thought
took that away, to leave him normally dressed.
Whether they were entirely correct or not in their theories, the psi
factor was no longer wild. He had it under full control!
He sat up, just as three men entered the crowded room. One wore the
uniform of a four-star general, but the familiar faces of the two
civilians told Hawkes at once that they were more important than any
general could be.
He was about to become officially the National Arsenal and replacement
for all the armies, navies, and air-corps they had ever dreamed of
having. He'd also become their bridge into space, their means of
solving the secrets of the planets, and probably their chief
historical tool, since nothing could ever be secret from him.
It was going to be a busy life for him and for the others like him who
would now be carefully selected and treated!
He grinned faintly, as he realized that they didn't know yet just how
important he was. He wasn't going to be a National Resource--he'd be a
World Resource. This power was too great for any local political use,
and no man who had it along with the full correlation of his conscious
and subconscious mind could ever see it any other way.
But right now, he had other pressing business. He grinned at Ellen.
"You don't mind a small wedding, do you?" he asked.
She shook her head, beginning to smile. He reached for her hand. This
psi factor was going to be a handy thing to have around, with its
complete control of space and time.
"I'm taking a two-week honeymoon before we talk business," he told the
approaching three men. "But don't go away. We'll be back in ten
minutes!"
Honolulu looked lovely in the moonlight, and June was the perfect
month for a wedding.
* * * * *
EDITORIAL NOTE: Actually, _Pursuit_ ends where the real
story is just beginning! Disregarding other powers, when men
can move instantly over any distance by simple desire, it's
the beginning of a life and culture totally unrelated to
anything we know. What will it be like? Where should houses
be built--and will they be built? A housewife can have her
dining-room in the mountains and her kitchen in a community
(to simplify and cheapen plumbing, etc.) 10,000 miles away,
or on another planet! There can be no national boundaries,
of course. What happens to the multiplicity of languages?
What happens to government? How do you catch a criminal? How
do you hold him?
There are endless possibilities, naturally. We're tossing it
open to the readers. You tell us what you think that world
will be like--if you can! We'll print the best letters--and
if the authors want to use this background, we'll buy the
best stories based on it.
We will not be responsible for mental break-downs, however!
* * * * *