"I think so."
"You can't, probably. How can anyone go where no one has been before?
There's nothing. It just isn't. It's only a door, Rikud."
"No--" Rikud began, but the words faded off into a sharp intake of
breath. Rikud had turned the knob and pushed. The door opened silently,
and Crifer said, "Doors are variable, too, I think."
Rikud saw a small room, perhaps half a dozen paces across, at the other
end of which was another door, just like the first. Halfway across,
Rikud heard a voice not unlike that of the reading machine.
He missed the beginning, but then:
--therefore, permit no unauthorized persons to go through this
door. The machinery in the next room is your protection against the
rigors of space. A thousand years from now, journey's end, you may
have discarded it for something better--who knows? But if you have
not, then here is your protection. As nearly as possible, this ship
is a perfect, self-sustaining world. It is more than that: it is
human-sustaining as well. Try to hurt yourself and the ship will
not permit it--within limits, of course. But you can damage the
ship, and to avoid any possibility of that, no unauthorized persons
are to be permitted through this door--
Rikud gave the voice up as hopeless. There were too many confusing
words. What in the world was an unauthorized person? More interesting
than that, however, was the second door. Would it lead to another
voice? Rikud hoped that it wouldn't.
When he opened the door a strange new noise filled his ears, a gentle
humming, punctuated by a _throb-throb-throb_ which sounded not unlike
the booming of the engines last week, except that this new sound didn't
blast nearly so loudly against his eardrums. And what met Rikud's
eyes--he blinked and looked again, but it was still there--cogs and
gears and wheels and nameless things all strange and beautiful because
they shone with a luster unfamiliar to him.
"Odd," Rikud said aloud. Then he thought, "Now there's a good word, but
no one quite seems to know its meaning."
Odder still was the third door. Rikud suddenly thought there might
exist an endless succession of them, especially when the third one
opened on a bare tunnel which led to yet another door.
Only this one was different. In it Rikud saw the viewport. But how? The
viewport stood on the other end of the world. It did seem smaller, and,
although it looked out on the garden, Rikud sensed that the topography
was different. Then the garden extended even farther than he had
thought. It was endless, extending all the way to a ridge of mounds way
off in the distance.
And this door one could walk through, into the garden. Rikud put his
hand on the door, all the while watching the garden through the new
viewport. He began to turn the handle.
Then he trembled.
What would he do out in the garden?
He couldn't go alone. He'd die of the strangeness. It was a silly
thought; no one ever died of anything until he was a hundred. Rikud
couldn't fathom the rapid thumping of his heart. And Rikud's mouth felt
dry; he wanted to swallow, but couldn't.
Slowly, he took his hand off the door lever. He made his way back
through the tunnel and then through the room of machinery and finally
through the little room with the confusing voice to Crifer.
By the time he reached the lame-footed man, Rikud was running. He did
not dare once to look back. He stood shaking at Crifer's side, and
sweat covered him in a clammy film. He never wanted to look at the
garden again. Not when he knew there was a door through which he could
walk and then might find himself in the garden.
It was so big.
* * * * *
Three or four days passed before Rikud calmed himself enough to
talk about his experience. When he did, only Crifer seemed at all
interested, yet the lame-footed man's mind was inadequate to cope with
the situation. He suggested that the viewport might also be variable
and Rikud found himself wishing that his friend had never read that
book on astronomy.
Chuls did not believe Rikud at all. "There are not that many doors in
the world," he said. "The library has a door and there is a door to the
women's quarters; in five years, the Calculator will send you through
that. But there are no others."
Chuls smiled an indulgent smile and Rikud came nearer to him. "Now, by
the world, there are two other doors!"
Rikud began to shout, and everyone looked at him queerly.
"What are you doing that for?" demanded Wilm, who was shorter even than
Crifer, but had no lame foot.
"Doing what?"
"Speaking so loudly when Chuls, who is close, obviously has no trouble
hearing you."
"Maybe yelling will make him understand."
Crifer hobbled about on his good foot, doing a meaningless little jig.
"Why don't we go see?" he suggested. Then, confused, he frowned.
"Well, I won't go," Chuls replied. "There's no reason to go. If Rikud
has been imagining things, why should I?"
"I imagined nothing. I'll show you--"
"You'll show me nothing because I won't go."
Rikud grabbed Chuls' blouse with his big fist. Then, startled by what
he did, his hands began to tremble. But he held on, and he tugged at
the blouse.
"Stop that," said the older man, mildly.
* * * * *
Crifer hopped up and down. "Look what Rikud's doing! I don't know what
he's doing, but look. He's holding Chuls' blouse."
"Stop that," repeated Chuls, his face reddening.
"Only if you'll go with me." Rikud was panting.
Chuls tugged at his wrist. By this time a crowd had gathered. Some of
them watched Crifer jump up and down, but most of them watched Rikud
holding Chuls' blouse.
"I think I can do that," declared Wilm, clutching a fistful of Crifer's
shirt.
Presently, the members of the crowd had pretty well paired off, each
partner grabbing for his companion's blouse. They giggled and laughed
and some began to hop up and down as Crifer had done.
A buzzer sounded and automatically Rikud found himself releasing Chuls.