"Is the center in here?" Zen asked.
"Of course," Nedra answered.
"But why haven't Cal and his buddies found it?"
"They don't even know we exist," Nedra explained. "And if they did, for
some reason they wouldn't like to come into the tunnels."
"In effect, the tunnel is wired," West said.
"Do you mean they would get a jolt of high voltage electricity if they
ventured in here?"
"Nothing as crude as that," the craggy man replied. "However, at two
places, high frequency generators are built into the walls and hidden
in such a manner that a person entering the tunnel is saturated with
their radiations, which trigger the adrenals in his body. The result of
this is that he suddenly feels very much afraid."
"Eh?" Zen said, startled. "A fear generator?"
"In effect, it is that."
"But that would be a very powerful weapon."
"Yes, it would," the craggy man said, his voice dry.
"If you could generate such radiations in sufficient intensity and
cover a large enough area with them, you could panic a division,
perhaps even an army." Excitement was in Zen's voice. He knew that
the scientists were desperately searching for a new weapon that might
possibly end the war. Perhaps here was such a weapon.
"It might work that way," West admitted.
"Does the government know about this?"
"I believe not."
"Who invented it?"
"I believe Jal Jonner is generally credited with being the inventor,"
West said.
"Oh," Zen answered, and was silent. Jonner's name had become a legend
of the days when there were giants in the Earth, mighty men whose
thinking had gone beyond the concept of nations to envision one race,
beyond the creeds of churches to see one faith, and beyond the dogma of
economics to state that as long as one hungry man existed on the face
of the earth, no man with a full dinner in front of him was free to eat
his meal in peace and safety. Jonner's thinking had also gone beyond
one planet to see one solar system--and beyond that, one universe.
"Here is the first generator," West said. He flicked the beam of his
flashlight against the walls. "Of course, there isn't anything to see.
But you may feel something."
As the intelligence agent moved forward, a sudden surge of fear came
boiling up from his middle. It was a wild emotion and it carried with
it a blasting sense of great peril, of death. Instantly, thoughts
flashed through his mind of the first time he had ever been under shell
fire, the scream of artillery shells, the blasts of the explosions, the
shaking of the earth.
As the surge of fear shot upward from his middle, he felt his body jerk
and start to tremble. "Run!" a voice screamed inside him. "Get away
from here! Run for your life!"
He caught the impulse to flee, held it in check. It was like trying to
hold back a tidal wave. "This is an interesting effect," he said. "Does
the generator have the same effect on all people?"
West grunted and walked ahead without answering the question. Zen
thought the grunt held an approving tone. Nedra squeezed his arm but
said nothing.
The craggy man did not point out the second generator, but Zen felt
the radiations hit him, stronger than before. He was mentally prepared
this time, but his body wasn't. He felt his muscles tie themselves
into knots. The impulse to run was a screaming ululation of mad wolf
intensity pouring into his consciousness.
Zen kept on walking. As abruptly as he had entered it, he was out of
the radiation zone. Up ahead of him, West did not grunt or change his
pace. Except for Nedra's fingers digging into his arm, Zen had no
indication that either felt the radiation. What kind of people were
they, to be able to walk through hell and be uninfluenced by it? Zen
wondered as he wiped sweat off his forehead.
Ahead, West grunted and played his light on the side wall. The craggy
man grunted again. On the right, the side wall began to swing back
as a door opened there. From the tunnel the wall looked like solid
stone, but as the door opened, the back was seen to be made of metal. A
lighted tunnel leading to a large gallery lay beyond.
"Enter," West said.
"Who did all of this?" Zen inquired.
"Jal Jonner took over the title to this old mine. He and his men sealed
off the deeper tunnels, enlarged them, provided an air supply, built
laboratories and living quarters, and made a comfortable hidden world
here."
Zen felt he should have known better than to ask. According to these
people, Jal Jonner had done everything, except lay the foundations of
the world. "I see," the colonel said. "He did all of this before he
died." None of the reports he had read had mentioned this activity, or
had even hinted at it, but he did not see fit to mention this.
"No," West denied.
"But you just said--"
"He did it after he died," the craggy man explained.
"Huh?" Zen said. "Pardon me, but I did not seem to hear you clearly. I
thought you said he did this after he died."
"That's what I said. That's what he did." The craggy man's voice was
calm.
"I--uh--" Zen hastily changed his mind about the words he was going to
use. Secretly he was wondering if West was hopelessly insane. How could
a dead man build anything? "You understand that I am not too familiar
with what actually happened. Sorry and all that but I simply haven't
had to learn."
"I understand," West said. "You don't need to apologize. You will learn
here."
"Good," Zen said. He doubted if he felt better because his explanation
had been accepted. West's last words had an ominous ring to them.
"Your lack of familiarity with Jonner's history is very obvious," West
continued.
"But if he was dead--"
"He didn't die," West patiently explained. "He was buried. A handsome
monument was erected over his grave. But he wasn't in the grave."
"Son-of-a-gun!" Zen said. "Why all the fol-de-rol?"
"To deceive curious intelligence agents," West said, with no humor in
his voice.
Zen ignored the ironic threat. He was inside, this was what mattered.
Also the idea of one of the world's foremost scientists--and Jonner
had been exactly that--hiding himself away here where he could work
undisturbed with others who shared his dream, intrigued him. Or had
that dream been a grim prognostication of the way things were to be on
the surface of the third planet out from the sun? Had the work here
been an effort to escape that future? Was this underground cavern
really a modern Ark, dug into the heart of a mountain so that at least
a few humans might escape the deluge by fire?
Had a modern Noah appeared and not been recognized?
The thought shocked Kurt Zen. Somewhere he had read a prediction that
Earth would be destroyed by fire. Here was evidence that possibly at
least one human being had taken that prediction seriously enough to
build a bomb-and-radiation-proof shelter!
"You seem to be thinking seriously," West observed.
"Perhaps for the first time in my life, I am doing exactly that. My
brain seems to be trying to spin."
"Ah? Are you surprised at what you find here?"
"No. That is, not much. Mostly, I'm pleased."
"Good." West seemed satisfied. "Here comes John to greet us."
The craggy man's face lit up as a tall youth emerged from an adjoining
tunnel and came forward to meet them. His greeting to West had respect
in it, he merely glanced at Zen, but it was the nurse who commanded and
held his interest.
"Nedra! You're back!"
"Of course I'm back, John." As if this were the most natural thing
to do, Nedra allowed herself to be taken in John's arms. West smiled
benevolently at the two. Zen carefully looked in the other direction.
"This is Colonel Kurt Zen, John," West said, when the two had finished
kissing.
The tall youth extended his hand and said he was glad to meet Kurt. His
face was brown, his cheeks were lean and slightly hollow, but his eyes
were clear and his grip was firm without being bone-crushing.
"I imagine Kurt is rather tired," West said. "If you would find
quarters for him, John--"
"Glad to do it," the tall youth said. "Come with me, Kurt."
Zen nodded goodnight to Nedra and to West and followed John away. He
was tired down to the bottom of his thick-soled boots. Fatigue lay in
layers through his muscles and along his nerve trunks. He knew he was
keeping himself from collapsing only by an effort of will.
"I'll give you my room," John said.
"I couldn't think of depriving you of your quarters, old fellow," Zen
protested.
"It's no deprivation. Besides, I'll be with Nedra."
"Um," Zen said. The jealousy he felt almost made him forget how tired
he was.
The room was as bare as the cell of a monk. The bed was a double decker
with the top deck covered with books. It was hand-made, of rough pine
posts, and the springs were cords. There was no mattress. And no
pillow. A reading lamp was at the head.
"Hope you're comfortable here," the tall youth said. "Is there anything
I can get for you?"
"Nothing. But you might show me the little boy's room."
"Are you still on that level?" The tall youth seemed genuinely
surprised.
"Yes," Zen said. Then, as the implications back of the question caught
him, "Aren't you on the same level? I mean, don't you go?"
"Well, yes," John answered. Embarrassment reddened his face. "But
you're older than I am, and I thought perhaps you--" His voice trailed
off into silence as his embarrassment grew.
"You thought what?" Zen continued.
"Well, that--" The youth became flustered, then seemed to become
irritated with himself for being flustered, then for being irritated.
Zen watched the emotional reaction build higher and higher. He could
see no possible importance in the emotional response of the tall kid
except that the kid had intimated that he might be spending the night
with Nedra. Would people who didn't use toilets spend nights together?
If they did, what would they do? Talk about the beauties of flowers and
read poetry to each other? Zen sniffed silently to himself, to show his
contempt for such antics.
"I'll show you where to go," John said, suddenly.
Zen followed the tall youth out of the room and into a short tunnel
which led to a large gallery. Here the old-time miners had found a
sizeable body of ore. The gallery had been cleared of refuse and a
number of small rooms had been dug into the walls, the whole place
being illumined by a fluorescent paint that covered the walls. The
color of the light was a misty blue and the whole big gallery seemed
to float in this light, creating an effect that was breath-takingly
beautiful.
In the first room they passed a naked young woman who was going through
gymnastic exercises in time to slow music. At the sight of her lithe,
brown body bending and swaying in time to slow music, Zen whistled
appreciatively through his teeth. She was almost enough to make him
forget Nedra.
In another room a fat youth was reading a book. He was lying flat on
the floor. In a third, a skinny young man with skin the color of old
ivory was sitting cross-legged before a shrine. His features were as
immobile as a statue of Buddha. The same faint smile seemed painted on
his face.
In another room a beautiful young woman was undressing preparatory to
retiring. She hadn't bothered to close the door.
"What the hell is this, a glorified whorehouse?" Zen blurted out.
"A _whore house_? What's that?" John asked.
His manner made Zen feel like apologizing for having used such words in
his presence. "Never mind. I withdraw the question. Who keeps tab on
where the boys and the girls spend the night?"
"No one," John answered, astonished. "Is somebody supposed to?" He was
startled at the idea. "Oh, you are concerned about sex. You are also
new here. Sex is no problem here, as you will learn."
"No problem? Don't you engage in it?"
"We have other, and more important things, to do," John answered. His
words were lofty but his tone was kind.
Zen heard the words but he filed mental reservations about accepting
their meaning. Silently he wondered if these kids had all their
marbles. Apparently they had not even learned about the birds and the
bees.
"Anything else I can tell you?" John asked.
"You've already told me too much," Zen answered. "I'm afraid to ask you
any more questions."
The toilet had no flush plumbing. _After use, press the button_, a sign
above it said. Zen did just that. No sound of running water followed
but the colonel had the dim impression that intensely bright light had
flared for a moment. He did not have the courage to look and see what
had happened.
In some ways, this toilet which disposed of its contents in a flash of
light was more significant and possibly more productive of concern than
Cuso's blooper or Cuso's lieutenant had been. If the new people found
it convenient to disintegrate their sewage, rather than dispose of it
by the conventional method, what else could they do?
Zen shook his head to indicate to himself how amazed he was. John
thought he wanted more information and started to ask a question, which
the colonel hastily interrupted. "Don't tell me any more. There are
limits to what my liver and lights will stand."
"What have your liver and lights to do with this?"
"Nothing at all. That was only a figure of speech."
As they returned through the gallery, he saw that the bronze girl was
still going through her rhythmic dance in time to the slow music. The
sight of that perfectly formed nude body slowly swaying in the small
room sent such a surge of excitement through Kurt Zen that he hastily
turned his eyes away. If he was going to live in this place very long,
they would have to make some new rules. How could any human being stay
in bed alone when that beautiful bronze creature was going through her
swaying dance?
"What is she doing, learning to be a strip-tease dancer?" he asked.
"Perfect muscular control. This is one of the exercises we all learn,"
John answered. "What's a strip-tease dancer?"
"Nothing you ever heard of," Zen answered. "But while she is developing
her muscular control, what is she doing to the endocrinal system of
every male in the place?"
"Not a thing," John said, astonished again.
Zen had grave doubts that the tall youth knew what he was talking about.
John selected a single book from the top of the double-decker bed, and
anxiously inquired if there was anything more he could do to make the
colonel comfortable for the night. Upon being told there was not, he
departed with the book. Zen thought of the book benignly. If the tall
youth was going to spend the night with Nedra, at least there would be
a book between them.
He slid off his heavy pack and set the lieutenant's sub-machine gun
where he could reach it readily. His counter told him there was no
radioactivity present.
Books were in a niche in the stone wall behind the bed. The author of
one caught his eye: Jal Jonner.
The name was enough to hold his attention. Jonner was known to have
written books, but few had survived. Even the Library of Congress did
not have them, but there was no Library of Congress in any sense of the
word any more. When Washington had left the planet, the Library had
gone with it.
Glancing at the introduction, Zen forgot all about his fatigue and
where he was. One glance at the words and he knew he was in contact
with the living waters of life itself.
_INTRODUCTION_
_In the beginning, I am going to make an inaccurate statement. I
am going to say that the reading of this book may open a new life
for you. Now let me explain why this statement is inaccurate._
_In the first place, it is inaccurate because this is not the
start of your life. That took place millions of years ago--more
millions of years than I care to mention here._
_So your life did not start with the reading of these words.--Now
as to the use of the word "new." This, also is inaccurate. To you,
the ideas expressed here may seem novel and new. But they are not
new in the sense that they have just been created, or even that I
have created them. They were implicit in the formation of the
first molecule of protoplasm that came into existence on this
planet. They are, therefore, as old as life._
_The pattern which you may, or may not follow, was laid down in
the first molecule of protoplasm which appeared on this planet,
as the Law of Growth._
_However, there is no law which requires that one species on this
planet, or even all combined species, the total life spectrum
here, shall survive to grow to full stature. The possibility of
growth is implicit in every form of life; it is latent, and
capable of development, in every species. However, the species
that fails to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered, if
it fails to develop its potential, must inevitably give earth room
to the species which is developing. In their day, the dinosaurs
ruled the planet. They had their chance, but they failed to
develop._
_Where, now, are the dinosaurs?_
_The Law is--Grow or Die. THIS LAW ALSO APPLIES TO MAN._
_This book may be regarded as a primer, a starting point of your
adventure into the coming development of man. It is the first text
book that you will receive. It is the beginning of the way._
_How much progress you make upon the way, how well you master the
law of growth, is, in large measure, up to you. You will receive
assistance, sometimes without your knowledge, but it will not be
the kind of assistance that will retard or weaken your
development. The new people will not be helped--too much! Strength
is required of them and strength is only achieved by overcoming
obstacles._
_The next upward step that the race takes--if it survives its own
self-destructive impulses--will be of such a nature as to require
the utmost in strength and courage from those who participate in
it._
_This step, it is fair to state, is in the direction of a higher
development of consciousness._
_Good luck--and God go with you._
_Jal Jonner_
_The Big Sur_
_July 1971_
Written in 1971, the book was now 49 years old, Zen decided after a
rapid calculation. The war had started in 2009. The time was now 2020.
Eagerly, he turned to the first chapter. It seemed to him that his life
was just beginning, that everything that had ever happened to him and
all that he had ever done was in preparation for this moment, when life
would begin.
After reading two pages, he reached the conclusion that, if this was
a primer, the text that was to follow must be difficult indeed. The
book started with mathematics that was twice as difficult as calculus.
Trying to concentrate, he found the symbols blurring before his eyes.
Then, as fatigue finally overwhelmed him, the whole page blurred and
was gone. He was asleep.
But he wasn't really asleep. The body slept. But he was not the body.
He was the consciousness that animated the body. This never slept.
He awakened at the touch of a hand on his shoulder.