"_What Fools--_"
Ed Bronson thought it out on his way to the police station. Man was
an impossible mixture of altruism and selfishness. Man was inclined
to give freely to those who were needy--but would fight like fury to
withhold the very smallest of his possessions from the avaricious grasp
of those who would wrest them from him by force.
As a world requiring pity, aid and mercy, every effort would be bent
towards that end, even to the job of making room for them in an already
crowded world. But they had entered like bank robbers or claim jumpers.
Their own world lost, they intended to abandon it, pirating any other
world they could.
The brotherhood of man collapsed at that point and became a brotherhood
of hate. Tolerance and mercy and willingness to offer succor must be
forgotten when the needy become vicious. Biting the hand that feeds is
an old platitude which still holds true.
So Ed Bronson knew that, regardless of their wretched situation, they
must be stopped. This was invasion with capital letters. Even though
many of them must be direct descendants of people in this world,
invasion meant war! Even worse than civil war was the brother against
brother, man against man, war of survival.
They--and Ed Bronson paused. 'They' was an indefinite term. 'They'
should have some nomenclature for purposes of identification. Were the
invasion from another planet, 'they' would have a name.
Were it merely an earthly war, country against country or political
clan against political clan, both sides would have names. But here
was a case where it would be one earth, one world, against another
world--identical save for a trick in time that had split them apart.
Bronson needed a name and he needed it quickly. He reasoned and came
to the conclusion that the 'other world' should be called Earth Two
because it was not long for living. Once it was destroyed by its own
fire this world would revert to being '_the_' earth. Until such a time
as differentiation became unnecessary he would call the two worlds
Earth One and Earth Two.
Thus, independently, did the people of three almost identical earths
arrive at the same conclusion. Earth One was the original, where the
Alamogordo Experiment had been successful. Earth Two was where the
million-to-one chance of starting an all-consuming atomic fire had
actually happened. Earth Three was where the Alamogordo Experiment had
failed.
Ed Bronson and the folk from Earth Two were still to learn of Earth
Three and it was only sheer reasoning that made all three systems of
nomenclature congruent.
So by the time Ed Bronson located the police department he was prepared
to give a coherent story. He asked for the captain in charge.
"Cap'n Norris is busy," grumped the desk sergeant. "What's the matter?"
"My home is being invaded and--"
"Well, you don't need the captain for that," snapped the sergeant.
"Joe! Eddie! Get the wagon and go with this here--what's your name,
mister?--and see that the guys that broke into his place are canned!"
"I'm Ed Bronson," explained Ed. "But--"
"That's all right," grunted the sergeant. "Joe and Eddie'll take care
of you!"
"But you don't understand," said Ed patiently. "These are invaders from
another world."
"Invaders from--what?" asked the sergeant, doing a double take.
"They're just the beginning," said Ed. "If you manage to grab them
others will be coming."
"Eddie--Joe! Forget it. This is a Number Seven deal."
* * * * *
Joe and Eddie looked at Ed Bronson with an odd glint in their eyes.
The sergeant looked down across the desk and said, "Now, Mr. Bronson,
suppose you come with me to the captain's office and we'll talk to him."
"That's fine," said Bronson. "You see, I'm not sure of what to do about
it all."
"Captain Norris will be able to help you," said the sergeant. "This
way."
He came from behind his desk and led Ed Bronson to the hallway door.
He opened the door and stepped back, permitting Ed to go first. Ed
found himself in a short hallway and started down it uncertainly. The
sergeant followed him until he reached the proper door.
"In there, Mr. Bronson," he said.
Bronson did not make particular note of the fact that the desk sergeant
had at no time been with his back to Ed. He opened the door and found
himself facing an elderly wise-looking man who had the appearance of
having seen, heard, and experienced, either first-hand or vicariously,
every item of trouble, grief and sin in the list.
"Captain Norris, this is Mr. Bronson. He has a bit of trouble. Thought
you'd best hear about it."
"Sit down, Mr. Bronson, and tell me about it," replied Captain Norris
easily.
"Well, sir, in the first place, I am an electronics specialist. It's--"
"A scientist of some sort, is that it?"
Ed nodded. "Most of us shy away from the name 'scientist' but that's
about it," he said. "So you're a scientist?" smiled Norris.
"Yes. And I was experimenting on a bit of radioisotopic phosphor,
hoping to make a better, more brilliant television picture."
"Has this all got to do with the people who are breaking into your
home?" asked Norris.
"Yes. That's how they got in."
"I see. Then go ahead. No, Sergeant Foster, you stay because you may
have to do something about this and it is best that you get your story
first hand. It'll save time. Now, Mr. Bronson?"
"Well, under the combined forces of the magnetic field and the
electronic bombardment the phosphor vibrated. I half recognized the
vibration. It was like a very faint whisper in another room that you
can't quite understand--but you know that someone is whispering.
"So I went to work on the phosphor and used a contact microphone on
it, and got in touch with some woman, who gave her address as across
the street from my home. When I went over there, I discovered that
it couldn't possibly be correct. Later I refined the thing a bit and
learned that her name was Carlson. Then I built a means of talking back
to her, and I learned that she was not on this world at all. It was--"
"Not on this earth--but talking American?" demanded Norris.
"Yes."
"Do go on," said Captain Norris, putting down his pipe and leaning
forward a bit.
"Well, you see, Captain Norris, there were some of the Manhattan
Project physicists who believed that there was a chance that the atomic
explosion might be strong enough to start a fission train in the earth
itself. In other words, they were afraid of setting the earth on fire
atomically. This was a possibility, and it seems that we now have two
worlds, each following the natural chain of events pursuant to the two
different possibilities."
"Very interesting, Mr. Bronson. Please go on. There must be more."
"After learning this, we decided to do what we could to alleviate the
difficulty. I went to bed. In the night--or rather while I was asleep,
they used some means or other to pass through from one world to the
other and one of them clipped me and taped me up. He told me that they
were going to move in on us--to displace us. I escaped and came here.
Something must be done!"
"Indeed! Something must be done indeed," replied Captain Norris.
* * * * *
Bronson took a deep breath, and said, "I'm glad that I had this chance.
It was a heavy weight on my mind, knowing that this was happening and I
was the only one in the whole world that knew the truth."
Captain Norris nodded. "I trust that you are feeling all right now?"
"Of course."
"We'd better get you to a doctor, Mr. Bronson. Those wrists look
inflamed."
Bronson looked down at them. "Now that this affair is in the hands of
authority," he said, "I think I can take time off to see a doctor."
"We'll take you to our doctor," said Captain Norris.
"I have my own," said Bronson.
"We--insist!"
"But--"
Norris smiled genially. "You'll like our doctor," he said. "He's such a
nice congenial fellow. Everybody likes him. Now--"
"What is this?" demanded Bronson.
"Take it easy," said the captain, "it's just routine. Everybody who
gets hurt in the course of committing a crime or being victimized
in such is always treated by the official medical department. Just
a matter of establishing legal medical evidence, that's all. Now
relax, Mr. Bronson, and come along. I'll have the boys take you to the
hospital."
"Hos--?"
"Routine. The doctor works for us, Mr. Bronson. Therefore he has no
office hours. Logical?"
Joe and Eddie treated Ed Bronson to a wild ride through the city
streets with the siren on full. They slid to a stop in front of a
squat, dirty limestone building and they escorted him in--convoyed him
in, to be exact, for one went in front and one followed up the rear.
"I am Doctor Mason," said a white-clad man, meeting them in the
corridor of the building. "Captain Norris told me you'd be coming."
"Just abraded skin, doctor," said Ed, showing the doctor his wrists.
"We'll take care of that instanter," smiled Doctor Mason. "Meanwhile,
what's this tale you were telling Norris? Something about hearing
voices? Threatening voices?"
Bronson recoiled a bit.
"Now, relax," said Mason.
"Do you think I'm crazy?" asked Bronson sharply.
"Of course not. You're not crazy, my boy. Just tell me--"
"You--"
"My friend, the symptoms of paranoia are simple and easy to determine.
The hushed voices, in the earlier stages, merely talk about the victim.
In a later stage the voices threaten. In still a later state the hushed
voices take physical being and all too often it is someone entirely
innocent of any malice.
"Now this tale of people from another world, Mr. Bronson, must be faced
for what it is. You are not crazy, my boy. Merely ill--no worse than a
bad cold or influenza, for instance. But you are ill and you must be
treated."
"Treated?" exploded Bronson angrily. "Treated--for an imagined mental
ailment when the earth itself is in danger of being invaded?"
"The earth is not in danger," said the psychiatrist firmly. "And--"
"I will not be--"
"Violent, too," said Mason with a solemn shake of his head. "Normally,
we try to gain the patient's confidence. But in advanced cases of
paranoia, they will resent even altruism. Everything is suspected of
plot. Now, Mr. Bronson, whether you believe that this is for your own
good or not, you're coming with me. Will you come quietly or shall I
have some orderlies bring you?"
Bronson shook his head and turned to go. He walked into the waiting
arms of Joe and Eddie, who subdued him easily because they were well
trained in the art of handling men. Mason waved them on, and Bronson
walked with both arms in hammerlock behind him. He could either walk or
have both arms dislocated at the shoulder.
Mason spoke to the policemen. "The thing that makes psychiatry tough
is that the patient likes himself the way he is--just as all men do,
really--and resents bitterly any suggestion that his personality be
changed."
"What do you intend to do?" asked Joe.
"Electro-therapy," said the doctor in a decisive tone.
Bronson writhed in both physical and mental anguish. He, the only
man on earth that realized the danger, being dog-walked into a
cell--accused of the crime of warning the earth of its fate!
Outnumbered, overpowered and disbelieved!