TWENTY-SIX

The roof field of the Federal Building was alive with light as vehicles came and went. Only official squibs could be seen, however; the field was obviously closed to the public… God knew for how long.

The PSS occifer said, ‘I have clearance to land.’ He pointed to a pulsing green light on the intricate instrument panel of his squib.

They settled to a landing; Nick, with the occifer’s help, managed to get out, to stand up unsteadily.

‘Good luck, buddy,’ the occifer said, and in an instant he had gone; his squib became invisible in the sky above, its red blinking lights blending with the stars.

At the entrance ramp, at the far end of the field, a line of black pissers barred his way. All carried carbines with feather-point bows. And all of them looked at him as if he were offal.

‘Council Chairman Gram—’ he began.

‘Lose yourself,’ one of the black pissers said.

Nick said, ‘—asked me to come here and see him.’

‘Don’t you know there’s a forty thousand ton alien that’s—’

‘I’m here because of the emergency,’ Nick said.

One of the black pissers spoke into a wrist mike, waited in silence, listening to his ear speaker, then nodded. ‘He can go on in.’

‘I’ll escort you there,’ another of the black pissers said. ‘The whole fucking place is in a shambles.’ He led the way, and Nick followed, moving as best he could.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ the occifer said. ‘You look like you’ve been in a squib accident.’

‘I’m all right,’ Nick said.

They passed, then, a New Man who stood with a written directive in his hands, obviously trying to read it. Some residual sense told him that he should read it, but there was no comprehension in his eyes, only frightened confusion.

‘This way.’ The black-clad PSS occifer led him through a series of cubicles; Nick caught glimpses of New Men here and there, some seated on the floor, some trying to do things, to handle objects, others merely sitting or lying, staring emptily forward. And some, he saw, were having violent rages; evidently, flown in for the emergency, Old Men employees were trying to keep them under control.

The final door opened; the occifer stepped aside, said, ‘Here,’ and strode off, back the way they had come.

Willis Gram was not in his big, rumpled bed. He sat, instead, on a chair at the far end of the room, evidently at peace; his face seemed composed and tranquil.

‘Charlotte Boyer,’ Nick said, ‘is dead.’

‘Who?’ Gram blinked, turned to focus his attention on Nick. ‘Oh. Yeah.’ He lifted his hands, palms up. ‘They took away my telepathic ability. I’m just an Old Man now.’

An intercom on his desk said suddenly, ‘Council Chairman, we have installed the second laser system, this one on the roof of the Carriager Building, and twenty seconds from now it will have focused its beam on the same spot as the Baltimore laser system.’

Gram said loudly, ‘Provoni’s still standing there?’

‘Yes. The Baltimore beam is directly on him. When we add the Kansas City beam, we will virtually double the power at function-level.’

‘Keep me informed,’ Gram said. ‘Thanks.’ He turned to Nick. Today, Gram was fully dressed: business pantaloons, silk blouse with frilly sleeves, pie-plate shoes. He was groomed, nattily dressed, and calm. ‘I’m sorry about the girl,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but not really sorry — not if you really get down to the bottom of it — as I might have been if I’d known her better.’ He rubbed his face wearily, it had been freshly powdered, and a white layer came off on his hands; he slapped them together irritably. ‘I’m not wasting any tears for the New Men,’ he said, his lips twisting. ‘It’s their fault. You know about a man, a New Man, called Amos Ild?’

‘Of course,’ Nick said.

‘“Absolutely no possibility,”’ Gram said, ‘“That he’s brought an alien back with him.” Neutrologics, which the rest of us, Old Men and Under Men and Unusuals, can’t understand. Well, there’s nothing to understand, it doesn’t work. Amos Ild was just an eccentric, fiddling with millions of components for his Great Ear project. He was insane.’

‘Where is he now?’ Nick said.

‘Off somewhere playing with paperweights,’ Gram said. ‘Setting up intricate balance-systems for them, using rulers as the support bars.’ He grinned. ‘And he’ll be doing it the rest of his life.’

‘How far has the destruction of neurological tissue spread, geographically speaking?’ Nick asked. ‘Over the whole planet? To Luna and Mars?’

‘I don’t know. Most communications circuits aren’t being manned; there’s nobody, just plain nobody, on the other end. Which is eerie.’

‘You’ve called Peking? Moscow? Sumatra One?’

‘I’ll tell you who I’ve called,’ Gram said. ‘The Extraordinary Committee for Public Safety.’

Nick said, ‘And they no longer exist.’

Nodding, Gram said, ‘He — it — killed them. Scooped out their skulls, left them empty. Except for the diencephalon, for some reason. They left that.’

‘The vegetative functions,’ Nick said.

‘Yeah, we could have kept them alive like vegetables. But it wasn’t worth it; I told the different doctors to let them die, once I knew the extent of brain damage. That applies only to the New Men, however. There are two Unusuals on the Public Safety Committee, a precog and a telepath. Their talents are gone, same as mine. But we’re alive. For a while.’

‘It won’t do anything more to you,’ Nick said. ‘Now that you’re an Old Man, you’re in no more danger than I.’

‘What did you want to see me about?’ Gram asked, turning to face him. ‘To tell me about Charlotte? To make me feel guilty? Christ, there’re a million little bitches like her slinking around in the world; you can get yourself another in half an hour.’

Nick said, ‘You sent three black pissers to kill me. They killed Denny Strong instead, and because of his death we couldn’t handle the Sea Cow; hence the crash. Hence her death. You set up the train of circumstances; it all emanated from you.’

‘I’ll call off the black troopers,’ Gram said.

‘That’s not enough,’ Nick said.

The intercom burbled into life. ‘Council Chairman, both laser beams are now directed at the target spot, Thors Provoni.’

‘What results?’ Gram asked, standing rigidly, supporting his great bulk by holding onto the desk.

‘They’re being passed to me now,’ the intercom said.

Gram, silently, waited.

‘No visible change. No, sir, no change.’

‘Three laser systems,’ Gram said huskily. ‘If we brought in the one from Detroit—’

‘Sir, we can’t really operate what we have properly. The mental illness that’s attacking the New Men means we lack—’

‘Thanks,’ Gram said, and shut the intercom off. ‘“Mental illness,”’ he said, in ferocious mockery. ‘If only that’s what it was. Something you could cure in a sanitarium. What do they call that? Psychogenic?’

Nick said, ‘I’d like to see Amos Ild. Balancing paperweights on rulers.’ The greatest intellect produced so far by the race of man, he thought. Neanderthal, homo sapiens, then New Men — evolution. And using the New Man neutrologics, he had struck out; he had batted 000. But maybe Gram is right, he thought. Maybe Amos Ild was always insane… but we had no way of measuring a unique brain like his, no standard by which to judge.

It’s a good thing we’re rid of Ild, he thought. It’s a good thing we’re rid of all of them, he thought. Maybe all the New Men, in one sense or another, were insane. It’s just a question of degree. And their neutrologics — the logic of the insane.

‘You look lousy,’ Gram said. ‘You better get medical help; I can see that your arm’s broken.’

‘To your infirmary?’ Nick said. ‘As you call it?’

‘They’re competent medically,’ Gram said. ‘It’s strange,’ he said, half to himself, ‘I keep listening for your thoughts and they never come. I have only your words to go on.’ He cocked his shaggy head, studied Nick. ‘Did you come here to—’

‘I wanted you to know about Charlotte,’ Nick said.

‘But you’re unarmed; you’re not going to try to snuff me. You were searched; you didn’t know it but you passed five checkpoints. Are you?’ With unusual swiftness for a man of his bulk, he spun deftly, touched a stud on his desk. Instantly, five black troopers were in the room; they did not seem to have come there; they just were. ‘See if he’s armed,’ Gram said to the black troopers. ‘Look for something small, like a knife made of plastic, or a microtab of germs.’

Two of them searched Nick. ‘No sir,’ they informed the Council Chairman.

‘Stay where you are,’ Gram instructed them. ‘Keep your tubes pointed at him and kill him if he moves. This man is dangerous.’

‘Am I?’ Nick asked. ‘Is 3XX24J dangerous? Then six billion Old Men are dangerous, too, and your black pissers aren’t going to be able to hold them back. They’re all Under Men, now; they’ve seen Provoni; they know he’s back, as he promised; they know your weapons can’t hurt him; they know what his friend, the Frolixan, can do — has done — to the New Men. My broken arm is paralyzed; I couldn’t pull a trigger anyhow. Why couldn’t you have let us alone? Why couldn’t you let her come to me, and be together? Why did you have to send those black pissers after us? Why?’

‘Jealousy,’ Gram said quietly.

‘Are you going to resign as Council Chairman?’ Nick asked. ‘You have no special qualifications. Will you let Provoni rule? Provoni and his friend from Frolix 8?’

After a pause, Gram said, ‘No.’

‘Then they’ll kill you. The Under Men will. They’ll be coming here as soon as they understand what’s happened. And those tanks and weapons-squibs and black squads aren’t going to stop more than the first few thousand of them. Six billion, Gram. Can the military and the black pissers kill six billion men? Plus Provoni and the Frolixan? Do you have any real chance of any sort? Isn’t it time to pass control of the government, the whole establishment apparatus, to someone else? You’re old and you’re tired. And you haven’t done a good job. Snuffing Cordon — that alone should, by a constituted court of law, hang you.’ And very well may, he thought. For that and other decisions Gram had made during his tenure.

Gram said, ‘I’m going to go and talk with Provoni.’ He nodded to the black-clad troopers. ‘Get me a police squib; get it all ready.’ He pressed a button on his desk. ‘Miss Knight, ask communications to try to establish voice contact between me and Thors Provoni. Tell them to start on it right now. Top priority.’

He rang off, stood, then said to Nick, ‘I want—’ He hesitated. ‘Have you ever tasted Scotch whiskey?’

‘No,’ Nick said.

‘I have some twenty-four-year-old Scotch, a bottle I’ve never opened, a bottle for a special occasion. Wouldn’t you say this is a special occasion?’

‘I guess it is, Council Chairman.’

Going to the bookshelf on the right-hand wall, Gram lifted several volumes out, reached behind those that remained, came out holding a tall bottle of amber fluid. ‘Okay?’ he said to Nick.

‘Okay,’ Nick said.

Gram seated himself at his desk, tore the metal seal from the top of the bottle, removed the stopper, then looked around and among the clutter until he found two paper cups. He dumped their contents into a nearby wastebasket, then poured Scotch into each of the cups. ‘What’ll we drink to?’ he asked Nick.

‘Is that part of the ritual of taking alcohol?’ Nick asked.

Gram smiled. ‘We’ll drink to a girl that wrestled herself loose from four six-foot-tall MPs.’ He was silent a moment, not drinking. Nick, too, held his cup without lifting it. ‘To a better planet,’ Gram said, and drank the cupful down. ‘To a planet where we won’t need our friends from Frolix 8.’

‘I won’t drink to that,’ Nick said; he set his cup down.

‘Well, then just drink! Find out what Scotch tastes like! The finest of the whiskies!’ Gram stared at him in bewilderment and resentment… the latter grew until his face was dark red. ‘Don’t you realize what you’re being offered? You’ve lost your perspective on things.’ He pounded angrily on the walnut surface of his mighty wooden desk. ‘This whole thing has made you lose your values! We have to—’

‘The special squib is ready, Council Chairman,’ the intercom said. ‘On the roof field at port 5.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘What about voice contact? I can’t go until I get voice contact and establish that I’m not going to do them any harm. Switch off the laser beams. Both of them.’

‘Sir?’

He repeated his order. Hurriedly.

‘Yes sir,’ the intercom said. ‘And we’ll continue to try for voice contact. Meanwhile, we’ll hold your ship ready.’

Picking up the bottle, Gram poured himself more Scotch.

‘I can’t understand you, Appleton,’ he said to Nick. ‘You come here — what for, in God’s name? You’re injured but you refuse—’

‘Maybe that’s why I came here,’ Nick said. ‘“In God’s name.” As you put it.’ To stare you down, he thought, until you are ready to die. Because you and those like you must pass away; you must make room for what is coming. For what we are going to do. Our projects, instead of such semi-psychotic constructs as the Great Ear.

The Great Ear — what a superb device for a government to own, to help keep everyone in line. Too bad it’ll never be completed, he thought. We will see to that, although Provoni and his friend already have. But we will make it final.

‘We have video and audio contact, Council Chairman,’ the intercom said. ‘Line 5.’

Gram picked up the red v-fone, said, ‘Hello, Mr. Provoni.’

On the screen appeared Provoni’s rugged, bony face with its shadows, its furrows, its crags and pits… his eyes held in them the absolute emptiness which Nick had felt during the moment the probe passed through him… but the eyes held more: they gleamed animal-like, eyes of a breathing, willful, intense creature that strove and sought for what it wanted. An animal which had burst out of its cage. Strong eyes, set in a strong face, tired as it obviously was.

‘I think it would be a good thing for you to come up here,’ Gram said. ‘You’ve done vast harm; rather the irresponsible organism with you has done vast harm. Thousands of men and women, important in the government and industry and in the sciences—’

‘We should meet,’ Provoni interrupted hoarsely, ‘but it would be difficult for my friend to move himself so far.’

‘We shut off the laser beams as an act of good faith,’ Gram said, with tension, his eyes unblinking.

‘Yes, thank you for the laser beams.’ Provoni’s rock-like face split open to disclose a stubbled smile. ‘Without that energy source, he would have been unable to do his task. At least unable to right away. Over a few months — well, it would eventually have been accomplished; our work would have been done.’

‘Are you serious?’ Gram asked, ashen. ‘About the laser beams?’

‘Yes. He converted the energy of the laser system; it revitalized him.’

Gram turned away from the fone screen for a moment, evidently to get control of himself.

‘Are you all right, Council Chairman?’ Provoni asked.

Gram said, ‘Here you could shave, bathe, get a rubdown, a physical examination, rest for a time… and then we could confer.’

‘You will come here,’ Provoni said calmly.

After a pause Gram said, ‘All right. I’ll be there in forty minutes. Do you guarantee my safety and my freedom to leave?’

‘Your “safety”,’ Provoni echoed. He shook his head. ‘You still don’t comprehend the magnitude of what’s happened. Yes, I’ll be glad to guarantee your safety. You’ll leave in the state you arrived, at least as far as our actions are concerned. If you have a coronary seizure—’

‘All right,’ Gram said.

And so, in a matter of one minute, Willis Gram had capitulated his position entirely; it was he who went to Provoni, not the other way around… nor even to a neutral, middle point, divided equally between them. And it was a necessary, rational decision; he had no other choice.

‘But there will be no coronary seizure,’ Gram said. ‘I am ready to face anything necessary. Any condition that has to be met. Off.’ He hung up the fone. ‘Do you know what haunts me, Appleton? The fear that other Frolixans might come, that this might be only the first.’

‘No more are needed,’ Nick said.

‘But if they want to take over Earth—’

‘They don’t want to.’

‘They have. In a way. Already.’

‘But this is it. There won’t be any more damage done. Provoni has what he wants.’

‘Suppose they don’t care about Provoni and “what he wants”. Suppose—’

One of the black troopers said, ‘Sir, to reach Times Square in forty minutes — we should start now.’ He had braid on him: a pisser of high rank.

Grunting, Gram picked up a heavy woolex greatcoat and tugged it on over his shoulders. One of the troopers assisted him. ‘This man,’ Gram said, indicating Nick, ‘is to be taken to the infirmary and given medical treatment.’ He inclined his head, and two of the troopers approached Nick, menacingly, their eyes weak and yet intense.

‘Council Chairman,’ Nick said, ‘I have a favor to ask. Can I see Amos Ild for a time, before I go to the infirmary?’

‘Why?’ Gram asked, as he started toward the door with the two other black troopers.

‘I just want to talk to him. See him. Try to understand all this, all that’s happened to the New Men, by seeing him. Seeing him on the level he now—’

‘Cretin level,’ Gram said harshly. ‘You don’t want to come with me when I meet Provoni? You could express the wishes of—’ He gestured. ‘Barnes said you were representative.’

‘Provoni knows what I want — what everyone wants. What happens between you and him will be simple: you will resign your office and he will take on the office in your place. The Civil Service system will be radically revised; many positions will be elective, rather than appointive. Camps will be set up for the New Men where they will be happy; we have to think of them, their helplessness. That’s why I want to see Amos Ild.’

‘Then go do that.’ Gram nodded to the two troopers, one on each side of Nick. ‘You know where Ild is — take him there, and when he’s finished, then the infirmary.’

‘Thanks,’ Nick said.

Lingering, Gram asked, ‘Is she really dead?’

‘Yes,’ Nick said.

‘I’m sorry.’ Gram held out his hand, to shake. Nick declined it. ‘You were the one I wanted to see dead,’ Gram said. ‘Now — hell, now it doesn’t matter. Well, I’ve finally untangled my personal life from my public life; my personal life is over.’

‘As you said,’ Nick said icily, ‘“there’s a million little bitches like her crawling this world.”’

‘That’s right,’ Gram said stonily. ‘I did say that.’

He set off, then, with his two guards. The door slid shut after him.

‘Come along,’ one of the two remaining black pissers said.

‘I will come at the rate I feel like,’ he said; his arm hurt violently and he was beginning to feel sick at his stomach. Gram was right – he would have to go downstairs to the infirmary very soon.

But not until he saw, with his own eyes, Amos Ild. The highest intellect born of man.

‘In here.’ One of the guards indicated a door which was guarded by a PSS occifer wearing regulation green. ‘Step aside,’ the black pisser said.

‘I’m not authorized to—’

The black trooper lifted his gun. As if to hit him with it.

‘Whatever you say,’ the occifer in green said, and stepped aside.

Nicholas Appleton entered the room.