PraisefortheNovelsoftheGalacticEmpire

PebbleintheSky

“PebbleintheSkywasoriginallypublishedin1950but,exceptforafewdetails,holdsup. . . .Youget to share in the rareviewof thebeginningofAsimov’svision of the Galactic Empire, which would serve as the backdrop of manynovels,culminatingwiththeFoundationseries.”

—SFRevu

TheStars,LikeDust

“SciencefictiononthelargerscaleisIsaacAsimov’sspecialty.Thesceneofhisnewbook,arousingadventurestoryoftheremotefuture,istheGalaxy,which,withitshundredsofinhabitedplanets,hasbeentakenoverbyadictatorialracecalled, appropriately enough, the Tyranni. . . . Clear writing and excellentsuspensemakethisbookawelcomeadditiontothesciencefictionlists.”

—TheNewYorkTimes

TheCurrentsofSpace

“Obviously, Isaac Asimov had a lot of fun concocting this merry tangle ofinterplanetary power politics. . . . If it isn’t often science fiction, it is alwaysbeautifullycontrivedmelodrama.ThereaderwillhavejustasmuchfunasMr.Asimov.”

—TheNewYorkTimes

PebbleintheSky

ISAACASIMOV

ORBATOMDOHERTYASSOCIATESBOOK

NEWYORK

Thecharactersandtheincidentsinthisbookareentirelytheproductoftheauthor’simaginationandhavenorelationtoanypersonoreventinreallife.PEBBLEINTHESKY

Copyright©1950,renewed1978byTheEstateofIsaacAsimovAllrightsreserved.AnOrbBookPublishedbyTomDohertyAssociates,LLC175FifthAvenueNewYork,NY10010www.tor-forge.comLibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataAsimov,Isaac,1920–1992.Pebbleinthesky/IsaacAsimov.—1stOrbed.p.cm.

“ATomDohertyAssociatesbook.”ISBN978-0-7653-1913-5I.Title.PS3551.S5P42009813'.54—dc22

2008046430

FirstTorEdition:January2008FirstOrbEdition:May2010PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica0987654321

Tomyfather,whofirstintroducedmetosciencefiction

Contents

1BetweenOneFootstepandtheNext

2TheDisposalofaStranger

3OneWorld—orMany?

4TheRoyalRoad

5TheInvoluntaryVolunteer

6ApprehensionintheNight

7ConversationwithMadmen?

8ConvergenceatChica

9ConflictatChica

10InterpretationofEvents

11TheMindThatChanged

12TheMindThatKilled

13SpiderWebatWashenn

14SecondMeeting

15TheOddsThatVanished

16ChooseYourSide!

17ChangeYourSide!

18Duel!

19TheDeadlineThatApproached

20TheDeadlineThatWasReached

21TheDeadlineThatPassed

22TheBestIsYettoBe

PebbleintheSky

1

BetweenOneFootstepandtheNext

TwominutesbeforehedisappearedforeverfromthefaceoftheEarthhe knew, Joseph Schwartz strolled along the pleasant streets of suburbanChicagoquotingBrowningtohimself.In a sense thiswas strange, since Schwartzwould scarcely have impressed

anycasualpasserbyas theBrowning-quoting type.He lookedexactlywhathewas:aretiredtailor,thoroughlylackinginwhatthesophisticatesoftodaycalla“formal education.” Yet he had expendedmuch of an inquisitive nature uponrandomreading.Bythesheerforceofindiscriminatevoracity,hehadgleanedasmattering of practically everything, and by means of a trick memory hadmanagedtokeepitallstraight.Forinstance,hehadreadRobertBrowning’sRabbiBenEzra twicewhenhe

wasyounger,so,ofcourse,knewitbyheart.Mostofitwasobscuretohim,butthosefirstthreelineshadbecomeonewiththebeatingofhishearttheselastfewyears.He intoned them tohimself, deepwithin the silent fortressofhismind,thatverysunnyandverybrightearlysummerdayof1949:

“Growoldalongwithme!Thebestisyettobe,Thelastoflife,forwhichthefirstwasmade...”

Schwartz felt that to its fullness.After the strugglesofyouth inEuropeandthoseofhisearlymanhoodintheUnitedStates,theserenityofacomfortableold

agewaspleasant.Withahouseofhisownandmoneyofhisown,hecould,anddid,retire.Withawifeingoodhealth,twodaughterssafelymarried,agrandsontosoothetheselastbestyears,whathadhetoworryabout?Therewastheatombomb,ofcourse,andthissomewhatlascivioustalkabout

WorldWarIII,butSchwartzwasabelieverinthegoodnessofhumannature.Hedidn’t think therewouldbeanotherwar.Hedidn’t thinkEarthwouldever seeagain thesunlikehellofanatomexplodedinanger.Sohesmiled tolerantlyatthechildrenhepassedand silentlywished thema speedyandnot toodifficultridethroughyouthtothepeaceofthebestthatwasyettobe.HeliftedhisfoottostepoveraRaggedyAnndollsmilingthroughitsneglect

asitlaythereinthemiddleofthewalk,afoundlingnotyetmissed.Hehadnotquiteputhisfootdownagain...InanotherpartofChicagostood the Institute forNuclearResearch, inwhichmenmayhavehadtheoriesupontheessentialworthofhumannaturebutwere half ashamed of them, since no quantitative instrument had yet beendesignedtomeasureit.Whentheythoughtaboutit,itwasoftenenoughtowishthatsomestrokefromheavenwouldpreventhumannature(anddamnedhumaningenuity) from turningevery innocent and interestingdiscovery intoadeadlyweapon.Yet,inapinch,thesamemanwhocouldnotfinditinhisconsciencetocurb

hiscuriosityintothenuclearstudiesthatmightsomedaykillhalfofEarthwouldriskhislifetosavethatofanunimportantfellowman.Itwastheblueglowbehindthechemist’sbackthatfirstattractedtheattention

ofDr.Smith.He peered at it as he passed the half-open door. The chemist, a cheerful

youngster, was whistling as he tipped up a volumetric flask, in which thesolutionhadalreadybeenmadeup tovolume.Awhitepowder tumbled lazilythroughtheliquid,dissolvinginitsowngoodtime.Foramomentthatwasall,and thenDr.Smith’s instinct,whichhad stoppedhim in the firstplace, stirredhimtoaction.Hedashedinside,snatchedupayardstick,andsweptthecontentsofthedesk

toptothefloor.Therewasthedeadlyhissofmoltenmetal.Dr.Smithfeltadropofperspirationsliptotheendofhisnose.The youngster stared blankly at the concrete floor along which the silvery

metalhadalreadyfrozeninthinsplashmarks.Theystillradiatedheatstrongly.Hesaidfaintly,“Whathappened?”Dr.Smith shrugged.Hewasn’t quitehimself either. “I don’t know.You tell

me....What’sbeendoinghere?”“Nothing’sbeendoinghere,”thechemistyammered.“Thatwasjustasample

ofcrudeuranium.I’mmakinganelectrolyticcopperdetermination... .Idon’tknowwhatcouldhavehappened.”“Whatever happened, youngman, I can tell youwhat I saw. That platinum

cruciblewasshowingacorona.Heavyradiationwastakingplace.Uranium,yousay?”“Yes,butcrudeuranium,andthat isn’tdangerous. Imean,extremepurity is

one of themost important qualifications for fission, isn’t it?” He touched histonguetohislipsquickly.“Doyouthinkitwasfission,sir?It’snotplutonium,anditwasn’tbeingbombarded.”“And,” said Dr. Smith thoughtfully, “it was below the critical mass. Or, at

least,belowthecriticalmasseswethinkweknow.”Hestaredat thesoapstonedesk, at the burned and blistered paint of the cabinets and the silvery streaksalongtheconcretefloor.“Yeturaniummeltsatabout1800degreesCentigrade,and nuclear phenomena are not sowell known thatwe can afford to talk tooglibly.Afterall, thisplacemustbefairlysaturatedwithstrayradiations.Whenthe metal cools, young man, it had better be chipped up, collected, andthoroughlyanalyzed.”Hegazed thoughtfullyabouthim, then stepped to theoppositewall and felt

uneasilyataspotaboutshoulderheight.“What’sthis?”hesaidtothechemist.“Hasthisalwaysbeenhere?”“What,sir?”Theyoungmansteppedupnervouslyandglancedatthespotthe

oldermanindicated.Itwasatinyhole,onethatmighthavebeenmadebyathinnail driven into thewall andwithdrawn—butdriven throughplaster andbrickforthefullthicknessofthebuilding’swall,sincedaylightcouldbeseenthroughit.Thechemistshookhishead,“Ineversawthatbefore.ButIneverlookedfor

it,either,sir.”Dr.Smithsaidnothing.Hesteppedbackslowlyandpassedthethermostat,a

parallelopiped of a box made out of thin sheet iron. The water in it movedswirlingly as the stirrer turned inmotor-drivenmonomania, while the electricbulbsbeneath thewater, servingasheaters, flickedonandoffdistractingly, intimewiththeclickingofthemercuryrelay.“Well,then,wasthishere?”AndDr.Smithscrapedgentlywithhisfingernail

ataspotnearthetopofthewidesideofthethermostat.Itwasaneat,tinycircledrilledthroughthemetal.Thewaterdidnotquitereachit.The chemist’s eyes widened. “No, sir, that wasn’t there ever before. I’ll

guaranteethat.”

“Hmm.Isthereoneontheotherside?”“Well,I’llbedamned.Imean,yes,sir!”“All right, come round here and sight through the holes. . . . Shut the

thermostatoff,please.Nowstaythere.”Heplacedhisfingerontheholeinthewall.“Whatdoyousee?”hecalledout.“Iseeyourfinger,sir.Isthatwheretheholeis?”Dr.Smithdidnotanswer.Hesaid,withacalmnesshewasfarfromfeeling,

“Sightthroughintheotherdirection....Nowwhatdoyousee?”“Nothingnow.”“But that’s the place where the crucible with the uranium was standing.

You’relookingattheexactplace,aren’tyou?”Reluctantly,“Ithinkso,sir.”Dr.Smithsaidfrostily,withaquickglanceatthenameplateonthestill-open

door,“Mr.Jennings,thisisabsolutelytop-secret.Idon’twantyouevertospeakaboutthistoanyone.Doyouunderstand?”“Absolutely,sir!”“Thenlet’sgetoutofhere.We’llsendintheradiationmentochecktheplace,

andyouandIwillspendasiegeintheinfirmary.”“Radiationburns,youmean?”Thechemistpaled.“We’llfindout.”Buttherewerenoserioussignsofradiationburnsineither.Bloodcountswere

normalandastudyofthehairrootsrevealednothing.Thenauseathatdevelopedwaseventuallytabbedaspsychosomaticandnoothersymptomsappeared.Nor, in all the Institute, was anyone found, either then or in the future, to

explainwhyacrucibleofcrudeuranium,wellbelowcriticalsize,andundernodirectneutronicbombardment,shouldsuddenlymeltandradiatethatdeadlyandsignificantcorona.The only conclusion was that nuclear physics had queer and dangerous

cranniesleftinit.Yet Dr. Smith never brought himself to tell all the truth in the report he

eventually prepared. He made no mention of the holes in the laboratory, nomentionofthefactthattheonenearestthespotwherethecruciblehadbeenwasbarely visible, the one on the other side of the thermostat was a trace larger,while theonein thewall, three timesasfarawayfromthatfearfulspot,couldhavehadanailthrustthroughit.A beam expanding in a straight line could travel several miles before the

Earth’s curvature made the surface fall away from it sufficiently to preventfurtherdamage,andthenitwouldbetenfeetacross.Afterthat,flashingemptilyintospace,expandingandweakening,aqueerstraininthefabricofthecosmos.

Henevertoldanyoneofthatfancy.Henever told anyone that he called for themorningpapersnext day,while

stillintheinfirmary,andsearchedthecolumnswithadefinitepurposeinmind.But somanypeople inagiantmetropolisdisappeareveryday.Andnobody

hadgonescreamingtothepolicewithvaguetalesofhow,beforehiseyes,aman(orwoulditbehalfaman?)haddisappeared.Atleastnosuchcasewasreported.Dr.Smithforcedforgetfulness,eventually.

ToJosephSchwartzithadhappenedbetweenonestepandthenext.HehadliftedhisrightfoottocleartheRaggedyAnndollandforamomenthehadfeltdizzy—asthoughforthemeresttrifleoftimeawhirlwindhadliftedhimandturnedhiminsideout.Whenheplacedhisrightfootdownagain,allthebreathwentoutofhiminagaspandhefelthimselfslowlycrumpleandslidedowntothegrass.Hewaitedalongtimewithhiseyesclosed—andthenheopenedthem.Itwastrue!Hewassittingongrass,wherepreviouslyhehadbeenwalkingon

concrete.Thehousesweregone!Thewhitehouses,eachwithitslawn,squattingthere,

rowonrow,allgone!And it was not a lawn he was sitting on, for the grass was growing rank,

untended,andthereweretreesabout,manyofthem,withmoreonthehorizon.Thatwaswhentheworstshockofallcame,becausetheleavesonthosetrees

wereruddy,someofthem,andinthecurveofhishandhefeltthedrybrittlenessofadeadleaf.Hewasacityman,butheknewautumnwhenhesawit.Autumn!Yetwhenhehad lifted his right foot it hadbeen a Juneday,with

everythingafreshandglisteninggreen.Helookedtowardhisfeetautomaticallyashethoughtthatand,withasharp

cry,reachedtowardthem...Thelittleclothdollthathehadsteppedover,alittlebreathofreality,a—Well,no!Heturneditoverinhistremblinghands,anditwasnotwhole.Yetit

wasnotmangled;itwassliced.Nowwasn’tthatqueer!Slicedlengthwiseveryneatly, so that the waste-yarn stuffing wasn’t stirred a hair. It lay there ininterruptedthreads,endingflatly.TheglitteronhisleftshoecaughtSchwartz’seye.Stillclutchingthedoll,he

forcedhis foot over his raisedknee.The extreme tip of the sole, the part thatextended forward past the uppers, was smoothly sliced off. Sliced off as noearthlyknifeinthehandofanearthlycobblercouldhaveduplicated.Thefreshsurfacegleamedalmostliquidlyinitsunbelievablesmoothness.

Schwartz’s confusion had reached up from his spinal cord and touched thecerebrum,whereitfinallyfrozehimwithhorror.Atlast,becauseeventhesoundofhisownvoicewasasoothingelementina

worldotherwisecompletelymad,hespokealoud.Thevoiceheheardwas lowandtenseandpanting.Hesaid,“Inthefirstplace,I’mnotcrazy.IfeelinsidejustthewayI’vealways

felt....Ofcourse,ifmaybeIwerecrazy,Iwouldn’tknowit,orwouldI?No—”Inside, he felt thehysteria rise and forced it down. “Theremust be somethingelsepossible.”Heconsidered,“Adream,maybe?HowcanItellifit’sadreamornot?”He

pinchedhimselfandfeltthenip,butshookhishead.“IcanalwaysdreamIfeelapinch.That’snoproof.”He lookedabouthimdespairingly.Coulddreamsbesoclear,sodetailed,so

lasting?Hehadreadoncethatmostdreamslastnotmorethanfiveseconds,thattheyareinducedbytriflingdisturbancestothesleeper,thattheapparentlengthofthedreamsisanillusion.Coldcomfort!Heshifted thecuffofhisshirtupwardandstaredathiswrist

watch.The secondhand turned and turned and turned. If itwere adream, thefivesecondswasgoingtostretchmadly.He looked away and wiped futilely at the cold dampness of his forehead.

“Whataboutamnesia?”Hedidnotanswerhimself,butslowlyburiedhisheadinbothhands.Ifhehadliftedhisfootand,ashedidso,hismindhadslippedthewell-worn

andwell-oiledtracksithadfollowedsofaithfullyforsolong...Ifthreemonthslater, in the autumn, or a year and threemonths later, or ten years and threemonths later, he had put his foot down in this strange place, just as hismindreturned...Why,itwouldseemasinglestep,andallthis...Thenwherehadhebeenandwhathadhedoneintheinterval?“No!”Thewordcameoutinaloudcry.Thatcouldn’tbe!Schwartzlookedat

hisshirt. Itwastheonehehadputonthatmorning,orwhatshouldhavebeenthatmorning,anditwasafreshshirt.Hebethoughthimself,plungedafistintohisjacketpocket,andbroughtoutanapple.Hebit into itwildly. Itwasfreshandstillhada lingeringcoolnessfromthe

refrigeratorwhichhadheldittwohoursearlier—orwhatshouldhavebeentwohours.Andthelittleragdoll,whataboutthat?Hefelthimselfbeginning togowild. Ithad tobeadream,orhereallywas

insane.Itstruckhimthatthetimeofdayhadchanged.Itwaslateafternoon,oratleast

theshadowswere lengthening.Thequietdesolationof theplacefloodeddownuponhimsuddenlyandfreezingly.Helurchedtohisfeet.Obviouslyhewouldhavetofindpeople,anypeople.

And,asobviously,hewouldhave to findahouse,and thebestway todo thatwouldbetofindaroad.Automaticallyhe turned in thedirection inwhich the trees seemed thinnest,

andwalked.Theslightchillofeveningwascreepinginsidehisjacketandthetopsofthe

treeswerebecomingdimand forbiddingwhenhecameupon that straightandimpersonalstreakofmacadam.Helungedtowarditwithsobbinggratitudeandlovedthefeelofthehardnessbeneathhisfeet.Butalongeitherdirectionwasabsoluteemptiness,and foramomenthe felt

thecoldclutchagain.Hehadhopedforcars.Itwouldhavebeentheeasiestthingtowavethemdownandsay—hesaiditaloudinhiseagerness—“GoingtowardChicago,maybe?”WhatifhewasnowherenearChicago?Well,anylargecity;anyplacehecould

reacha telephone line.Hehadonly fourdollarsand twenty-sevencents inhispocket,buttherewasalwaysthepolice...Hewaswalking along the highway,walking along themiddle,watching in

bothdirections.Thesettingofthesunmadenoimpressionuponhim,orthefactthatthefirststarswerecomingout.Nocars.Nothing!Anditwasgettingtobereallydark.Hethoughtthatfirstdizzinessmightbecomingback,becausethehorizonat

hisleftglimmered.Throughthegapsinthetreestherewasacoldblueshine.Itwasnottheleapingredheimaginedaforestfirewouldbelike,butafaintandcreeping glow. And the macadam beneath his feet seemed to sparkle ever sofaintly. He bent down to touch it, and it felt normal. But there was that tinyglimmerthatcaughttheedgesofhiseyes.He found himself runningwildly along the highway, his shoes thudding in

bluntandunevenrhythm.Hewasconsciousofthedamageddollinhishandandhetosseditwildlyoverhishead.Leering,mockingremnantoflife...Andthenhestoppedinapanic.Whateveritwas,itwasaproofofhissanity.

Andheneededit!Sohefeltaboutinthedarkness,crawlingonhiskneestillhefoundit,adarkpatchontheultra-faintglow.Thestuffingwasplumpingoutand,absently,heforceditback.Hewaswalkingagain—toomiserabletorun,hetoldhimself.Hewasgettinghungryandreally,reallyfrightenedwhenhesawthatsparkto

theright.

Itwasahouse,ofcourse!Heshoutedwildlyandnooneanswered,butitwasahouse,asparkofreality

blinkingathimthroughthehorrible,namelesswildernessof thelasthours.Heturned off the road and went plunging cross-country, across ditches, aroundtrees,throughtheunderbrush,andoveracreek.Queer thing! Even the creek glowed faintly—phosphorescently! But it was

onlythetiniestfragmentofhismindthatnotedit.Then he was there, with his hands reaching out to touch the hard white

structure.Itwasneitherbricknorstonenorwood,butheneverpaidthattheleastmind.It lookedlikeadull,strongporcelain,buthedidn’tgiveahoot.Hewasjustlookingforadoor,andwhenhecametoitandsawnobell,hekickedatitandyelledlikeademon.Heheard the stirring insideand theblessed, lovely soundofahumanvoice

otherthanhisown.Heyelledagain.“Hey,inthere!”Therewasafaint,oiledwhir,andthedooropened.Awomanemerged,aspark

ofalarminhereyes.Shewastallandwiry,andbehindherwasthegauntfigureof ahard-facedman inworkclothes. . . .No,notworkclothes.Actually theywere like nothingSchwartz had ever seen, but, in some indefinableway, theylookedlikethekindofclothesmenworkedin.But Schwartz was not analytical. To him they, and their clothes, were

beautiful;beautifulonlyasthesightoffriendstoamanalonecanbebeautiful.Thewoman spoke and her voicewas liquid, but peremptory, and Schwartz

reachedforthedoortokeephimselfupright.Hislipsmoved,uselessly,and,inarush,alltheclammiestfearshehadknownreturnedtochokehiswindpipeandstiflehisheart.ForthewomanspokeinnolanguageSchwartzhadeverheard.

2

TheDisposalofaStranger

LoaMarenandherstolidhusband,Arbin,playedcardsinthecoolofthesameevening,whiletheoldermaninthemotor-drivenwheelchairinthecornerrustledhisnewspaperangrilyandcalled,“Arbin!”ArbinMarendidnotansweratonce.Hefingeredthethin,smoothrectangles

carefullyasheconsideredthenextplay.Then,asheslowlymadehisdecision,herespondedwithanabsent,“Whatdoyouwant,Grew?”ThegrizzledGrewregardedhisson-in-lawfiercelyoverthetopofthepaper

and rustled it again.He found noise of that sort a great relief to his feelings.Whenamanteemswithenergyandfindshimselfspikedtoawheelchairwithtwodeadsticksforlegs,theremustbesomething,bySpace,hecandotoexpresshimself. Grew used his newspaper. He rustled it; he gestured with it; whennecessary,heswattedatthingswithit.ElsewherethanonEarth,Grewknew,theyhadtelenewsmachinesthatissued

rollsofmicrofilmasservingsofcurrentnews.Standardbookviewerswereusedforthem.ButGrewsneeredsilentlyatthat.Aneffeteanddegeneratecustom!Grewsaid,“Didyoureadaboutthearchaeologicalexpeditionthey’resending

toEarth?”“No,Ihaven’t,”saidArbincalmly.Grew knew that, since nobody but himself had seen the paper yet, and the

familyhadgivenuptheirvideolastyear.Butthenhisremarkhadsimplybeeninthenatureofanopeninggambit,anyway.

Hesaid,“Well,there’sonecoming.AndonanImperialgrant,too,andhowdoyou like that?” He began reciting in the queer unevenness of tone that mostpeople somehow assume automatically when reading aloud, “ ‘Bel Arvardan,Senior Research Associate at the Imperial Archaeological Institute, in aninterviewgranted theGalacticPress, spokehopefullyof theexpectedvaluableresultsofarchaeologicalstudieswhicharebeingprojectedupontheplanetEarth,locatedontheoutskirtsoftheSiriusSector(seemap).“Earth,”hesaid,“withitsarchaiccivilizationanditsuniqueenvironment,offersafreakculturewhichhasbeentoolongneglectedbyoursocialscientists,exceptasadifficultexerciseinlocalgovernment.Ihaveeveryexpectationthatthenextyearortwowillbringabout revolutionarychanges insomeofoursupposed fundamentalconceptsofsocialevolutionandhumanhistory.”’Andsoonandsoon,”hefinishedwithaflourish.ArbinMarenhadbeen listeningwithonlyhalf an ear.Hemumbled, “What

doeshemean,‘freakculture’?”Loa Maren hadn’t been listening at all. She simply said, “It’s your play,

Arbin.”Grewwenton,“Well,aren’tyougoingtoaskmewhytheTribuneprintedit?

You know theywouldn’t print a Galactic Press release for amillion ImperialCreditswithoutagoodreason.”Hewaiteduselesslyforananswer,thensaid,“Becausetheyhaveaneditorial

on it. A full-page editorial that blasts the living daylights out of this guyArvardan.Here’safellowwantstocomehereforscientificpurposesandthey’rechokingthemselvespurpletokeephimout.Lookatthispieceofrabblerousing.Lookatit!”Heshookthepaperatthem.“Readit,whydon’tyou?”Loa Maren put down her cards and clamped her thin lips firmly together.

“Father,” she said, “we’ve had a hard day, so let’s not have politics just now.Later,maybe,eh?Please,Father.”Grewscowledandmimicked,“‘Please,Father!Please,Father.’Itappearsto

meyoumustbegettingprettytiredofyouroldfatherwhenyoubegrudgehimafewquietwordsoncurrentevents.I’minyourway,Isuppose,sittinghereinthecornerandlettingyoutwoworkforthree....Whosefaultisit?I’mstrong.I’mwilling towork.Andyouknow I couldgetmy legs treated andbe aswell asever.”Heslappedthemashespoke:hard,savage,ringingslaps,whichheheardbutdidnotfeel.“TheonlyreasonIcan’tisbecauseI’mgettingtoooldtomakeacureworththeirwhile.Don’tyoucallthata‘freakculture’?Whatelsecouldyou call aworldwhere aman canwork but theywon’t let him?By Space, Ithink it’s about time we stopped this nonsense about our so-called ‘peculiarinstitutions.’They’renotjustpeculiar;they’recracked!Ithink—”

Hewaswavinghisarmsandangrybloodwasreddeninghisface.ButArbinhadrisenfromhischair,andhisgripwasstrongontheolderman’s

shoulder. He said, “Now where’s the call to be upset, Grew? When you’rethroughwiththepaper,I’llreadtheeditorial.”“Sure,butyou’llagreewith them,sowhat’s theuse?Youyoungonesarea

bunchofmilksops;justspongerubberinthehandsoftheAncients.”AndLoasaidsharply,“Quiet,Father.Don’tstartthat.”Shesattherelistening

foramoment.Shecouldnothavesaidexactlywhatfor,but...Arbin felt that cold little prickle that always came when the Society of

Ancientswasmentioned.Itjustwasn’tsafetotalkasGrewdid,tomockEarth’sancientculture,to—to—Why,itwasrankAssimilationism.Heswallowedearnestly;thewordwasan

uglyone,evenwhenconfinedtothought.Of course in Grew’s youth there had been much of this foolish talk of

abandoningtheoldways,buttheseweredifferenttimes.Grewshouldknowthat—andheprobablydid,exceptthatitwasn’teasytobereasonableandsensiblewhenyouwereinawheel-chairprison,justwaitingawayyourdaysforthenextCensus.Grewwasperhapstheleastaffected,buthesaidnomore.Andasthemoments

passed he grew quieter and the print became progressively more difficult toplaceinfocus.Hehadnotyethadtimetogivethesportspagesadetailedandcritical perusalwhenhis noddinghead lolled slowlydownuponhis chest.Hesnored softly, and the paper fell from his fingers with a final, unintentionalrustle.ThenLoaspoke,inaworriedwhisper.“Maybewe’renotbeingkindtohim,

Arbin.It’sahardlifeforamanlikeFather.It’slikebeingdeadcomparedtothelifeheusedtolead.”“Nothing’slikebeingdead,Loa.Hehashispapersandhisbooks.Lethimbe!

A bit of excitement like this peps him up. He’ll be happy and quiet for daysnow.”Arbinwasbeginningtoconsiderhiscardsagain,andashereachedforonethe

poundingat thedoorsounded,withhoarseyells thatdidn’tquitecoalesce intowords.Arbin’shandlurchedandstopped.Loa’seyesgrewfearful;shestaredather

husbandwithatremblinglowerlip.Arbinsaid,“GetGrewoutofhere.Quickly!”Loawasat thewheelchairashespoke.Shemadesoothingsoundswithher

tongue.Butthesleepingfiguregasped,startledawakeatthefirstmotionofthechair.

Hestraightenedandgropedautomaticallyforhispaper.“What’sthematter?”hedemandedirritably,andbynomeansinawhisper.“Shh.It’sallright,”mutteredLoavaguely,andwheeledthechairintothenext

room.Sheclosedthedoorandplacedherbackagainstit,thinchestheavingashereyessoughtthoseofherhusband.Therewasthatpoundingagain.Theystoodclosetoeachotherasthedooropened,almostdefensivelyso,and

hostility peeped from them as they faced the short, plump man who smiledfaintlyatthem.Loasaid,“Isthereanythingwecandoforyou?”withaceremonialcourtesy,

then jumpedbackas themangaspedandputout ahand to stophimself fromfalling.“Ishesick?”askedArbinbewilderedly.“Here,helpmetakehiminside.”Thehoursafterthatpassed,andinthequietoftheirbedroomLoaandArbin

preparedslowlyforbed.“Arbin,”saidLoa.“Whatisit?”“Isitsafe?”“Safe?”Heseemedtoavoidhermeaningdeliberately.“Imean,takingthismanintothehouse.Whoishe?”“How should I know?”was the irritated response. “But, after all, we can’t

refuseshelter toasickman.Tomorrow, ifhe lacks identification,we’ll informtheRegionalSecurityBoard,andthatwillbetheendofit.”Heturnedawayinanobviousattemptatbreakingofftheconversation.But his wife broke the returning silence, her thin voicemore urgent. “You

don’t think hemight be an agent of theSociety ofAncients, do you?There’sGrew,youknow.”“Youmeanbecauseofwhathesaidtonight?That’spastthelimitofreason.I

won’targueaboutit.”“Idon’tmean that,andyouknow it. Imean thatwe’vebeenkeepingGrew

illegallynowfor twoyears, andyouknowwe’rebreaking just about themostseriousCustom.”Arbinmuttered, “We’reharmingnoone.We’re fillingourquota, aren’twe,

eventhoughit’ssetforthreepeople—threeworkers?Andifweare,whyshouldtheysuspectanything?Wedon’tevenlethimoutofthehouse.”“They might trace the wheel chair. You had to buy the motor and fittings

outside.”“Nowdon’tstartthatagain,Loa.I’veexplainedmanytimesthatI’vebought

nothingbutstandardkitchenequipmentforthatchair.Besides,itdoesnotmakeanysenseatall toconsiderhimanagentof theBrotherhood.Doyousuppose

thattheywouldgothroughsuchanelaboratetrickeryforthesakeofapooroldman in a wheel chair? Couldn’t they enter by daylight and with legal searchwarrants?Please,reasonthisthingout.”“Well,then,Arbin”—hereyesweresuddenlybrightandeager—“ifyoureally

thinkso—andI’vebeensohopingyouwould—hemustbeanOutsider.Hecan’tbeanEarthman.”“Whatdoyoumean,hecan’tbe?That’smoreridiculousstill.Whyshoulda

manoftheEmpirecomeheretoEarth,ofallplaces?”“Idon’tknowwhy!Yes,Ido;maybehe’scommittedacrimeoutthere.”She

was caught up instantly in her own fancy. “Why not? It makes sense. Earthwouldbethenaturalplacetocometo.Whowouldeverthinkoflookingforhimhere?”“Ifhe’sanOutsider.Whatevidencedoyouhaveforthat?”“Hedoesn’tspeakthelanguage,doeshe?You’llhavetograntmethat.Could

youunderstandasingleword?Sohemustcomefromsomefar-offcorneroftheGalaxywhere the dialect is strange. They say themen of Fomalhaut have tolearn practically a new language to be understood at the Emperor’s court onTrantor....Butdon’tyouseewhatallthiscanmean?Ifhe’sastrangeronEarth,hewillhavenoregistrationwiththeCensusBoard,andhewillbeonlytoogladtoavoidreportingtothem.Wecanusehimonthefarm,intheplaceofFather,anditwillbethreepeopleagain,nottwo,whowillhavetomeetthequotaforthreethisnextseason....Hecouldevenhelpwiththeharvestnow.”She looked anxiously at the uncertain face of her husband,who considered

long,thensaid,“Well,gotobed,Loa.We’llspeakfurtherinthecommonsenseofdaylight.”Thewhispering ended, the lightwasputout, and eventually sleep filled the

roomandthehouse.The nextmorning it wasGrew’s turn to consider thematter. Arbin put the

questiontohimhopefully.Hefeltaconfidenceinhisfather-in-lawthathecouldnotmusterinhimself.Grew said, “Your troubles, Arbin, obviously arise from the fact that I am

registered as a worker, so that the produce quota is set at three. I’m tired ofcreatingtrouble.ThisisthesecondyearIhavelivedpastmytime.Itisenough.”Arbinwasembarrassed.“Nowthatwasn’tthepointatall.I’mnothintingthat

you’reatroubletous.”“Well,afterall,what’sthedifference?IntwoyearstherewillbetheCensus,

andIwillgoanyway.”“At least youwill have twomore years of your books and your rest.Why

shouldyoubedeprivedofthat?”

“Becauseothersare.AndwhatofyouandLoa?Whentheycometotakeme,theywill take you two aswell.What kindof amanwould I be to live a fewstinkingyearsattheexpense—”“Stop it, Grew. I don’t want histrionics. We’ve told you many times what

we’regoingtodo.We’llreportyouaweekbeforetheCensus.”“Andfoolthedoctor,Isuppose?”“We’llbribethedoctor.”“Hmp.Andthisnewman—he’lldoubletheoffense.You’llbeconcealinghim

too.”“We’llturnhimloose.ForSpace’ssake,whybotheraboutthisnow?Wehave

twoyears.Whatshallwedowithhim?”“A stranger,” mused Grew. “He comes knocking at the door. He’s from

nowhere.Hespeaksunintelligibly....Idon’tknowwhattoadvise.”Thefarmersaid,“He ismild-mannered;seemsfrightened todeath.Hecan’t

dousanyharm.”“Frightened, eh?What if he’s feeble-minded?What if his babbling isn’t a

foreigndialectatall,butjustinsanemouthing?”“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikely.”ButArbinstirreduneasily.“Youtellyourselfthatbecauseyouwanttousehim....Allright,I’lltellyou

whattodo.Takehimintotown.”“ToChica?”Arbinwashorrified.“Thatwouldberuin.”“Notatall,”saidGrewcalmly.“Thetroublewithyouis thatyoudon’tread

thenewspapers.Fortunatelyforthisfamily,Ido.ItsohappensthattheInstituteforNuclearResearchhasdevelopedan instrument that is supposed tomake iteasier for people to learn. There was a full-page spread in the Week-endSupplement.Andtheywantvolunteers.Takethisman.Lethimbeavolunteer.”Arbin shookhis head firmly. “You’remad. I couldn’t do anything like that,

Grew. They’ll ask for his registration number first thing. It’s only invitinginvestigation to have things in improper order, and then they’ll find out aboutyou.”“No, they won’t. It so happens you’re all wrong, Arbin. The reason the

Institutewantsvolunteersisthatthemachineisstillexperimental.It’sprobablykilled a fewpeople, so I’m sure theywon’t askquestions.And if the strangerdies,he’llprobablybenoworseoffthanheisnow....Here,Arbin,handmethebookprojectorandsetthemarkatreelsix.Andbringmethepaperassoonasitcomes,willyou?”WhenSchwartzopenedhiseyes,itwaspastnoon.Hefeltthatdull,heart-

choking pain that feeds on itself, the pain of a wife no longer by his side atwaking,ofafamiliarworldlost...Once before he had felt such a pain, and thatmomentary flash ofmemory

came, lightingupa forgotten scene into sharpbrilliance.Therewashimself, ayoungster,inthesnowofthewintryvillage...withthesleighwaiting...attheendofwhosejourneywouldbethetrain...and,afterthat,thegreatship...The longing, frustratingfear for theworldof thefamiliarunitedhimfor the

momentwiththattwenty-year-oldwhohademigratedtoAmerica.Thefrustrationwastooreal.Thiscouldnotbeadream.He jumped up as the light above the door blinked on and off and the

meaninglessbaritoneofhishostsounded.Thenthedooropenedandtherewasbreakfast—amealyporridge thathedidnot recognizebutwhich tasted faintlylikecornmush(withasavorydifference)andmilk.Hesaid,“Thanks,”andnoddedhisheadvigorously.The farmer said something in return and picked up Schwartz’s shirt from

where it hung on the back of the chair. He inspected it carefully from alldirections,payingparticularattentiontothebuttons.Then,replacingit,heflungopentheslidingdoorofacloset,andforthefirsttimeSchwartzbecamevisuallyawareofthewarmmilkinessofthewalls.“Plastic,” he muttered to himself, using that all-inclusive word with the

finalitylaymenalwaysdo.Henotedfurtherthattherewerenocornersoranglesintheroom,allplanesfadingintoeachotheratagentlecurve.But theotherwasholdingobjectsout towardhimandwasmakinggestures

thatcouldnotbemistaken.Schwartzobviouslywastowashanddress.Withhelpanddirections,heobeyed.Exceptthathefoundnothingwithwhich

toshave,norcouldgesturestohischinelicitanythingbutanincomprehensiblesound accompanied by a look of distinct revulsion on the part of the other.Schwartzscratchedathisgraystubbleandsighedwindily.Andthenhewasledtoasmall,elongated,biwheeledcar,intowhichhewas

orderedbygestures.Thegroundspedbeneaththemandtheemptyroadmovedbackward on either side, until low, sparklingwhite buildings rose before him,andthere,farahead,wastheblueofwater.Hepointedeagerly.“Chicago?”It was the last gasp of hope within him, for certainly nothing he ever saw

lookedlesslikethatcity.Thefarmermadenoansweratall.Andthelasthopedied.

3

OneWorld—orMany?

BelArvardan,freshfromhisinterviewwiththepress,ontheoccasionof his forthcoming expedition to Earth, felt at supreme peace with all thehundredmillionstarsystemsthatcomposedtheall-embracingGalacticEmpire.Itwasnolongeraquestionofbeingknowninthissectororthat.Lethistheoriesconcerning Earth be proven and his reputation would be assured on everyinhabitedplanetoftheMilkyWay,oneveryplanetthatManhadsetfootthroughthehundredsofthousandsofyearsofexpansionthroughspace.Thesepotentialheightsof renown, thesepureand rarefied intellectualpeaks

ofsciencewerecomingtohimearly,yetnoteasily.Hewasscarcelythirty-five,butalreadyhiscareerhadbeenpackedwithcontroversy. Ithadbegunwithanexplosion thathadrockedthehallsof theUniversityofArcturuswhenhefirstgraduatedasSeniorArchaeologistfromthatinstitutionattheunprecedentedageof twenty-three. The explosion—no less effective for being immaterial—consisted of the rejection for publication, on the part of the Journal of theGalacticArchaeologicalSociety,ofhisSeniorDissertation.Itwasthefirsttimein the history of the university that aSeniorDissertationhadbeen rejected. Itwasequallythefirst timeinthehistoryofthatstaidprofessionaljournalthatarejectionhadbeencouchedinsuchbluntterms.Toanon-archaeologist,thereasonforsuchangeragainstanobscureanddry

little pamphlet, entitledOn the Antiquity of Artifacts in the Sirius Sector withConsiderationsoftheApplicationThereoftotheRadiationHypothesisofHuman

Origin,mightseemmysterious.Whatwasinvolved,however,wasthatfromthefirst Arvardan adopted as his own the hypothesis advanced earlier by certaingroups of mystics who were more concerned with metaphysics than witharchaeology;i.e.,thatHumanityhadoriginateduponsomesingleplanetandhadradiated by degrees throughout the Galaxy. This was a favorite theory of thefantasywritersoftheday,andthebêtenoireofeveryrespectablearchaeologistoftheEmpire.But Arvardan became a force to be reckoned with by even the most

respectable,forwithinthedecadehehadbecometherecognizedauthorityontherelicsof thepre-Empireculturesstill left intheeddiesandquietbackwatersoftheGalaxy.For instance,hehadwrittenamonographon themechanisticcivilizationof

theRigelSector,wherethedevelopmentofrobotscreatedaseparateculturethatpersisted for centuries, till the very perfection of themetal slaves reduced thehumaninitiativetothepointwherethevigorousfleetsoftheWarLord,Moray,took easy control. Orthodox archaeology insisted on the evolution of Humantypes independentlyonvariousplanetsandusedsuchatypicalcultures,as thaton Rigel, as examples of race differences that had not yet been ironed outthroughintermarriage.Arvardandestroyedsuchconceptseffectivelybyshowingthat Rigellian robot culture was but a natural outgrowth of the economic andsocialforcesofthetimesandoftheregion.ThentherewerethebarbarousworldsofOphiuchus,whichtheorthodoxhad

longupheldassamplesofprimitiveHumanitynotyetadvancedtothestageofinterstellartravel.EverytextbookusedthoseworldsasthebestevidenceoftheMergerTheory;i.e., thatHumanitywas thenaturalclimaxofevolutiononanyworld based upon a water-oxygen chemistry with proper intensities oftemperature and gravitation; that each independent strain of Humanity couldintermarry;thatwiththediscoveryofinterstellartravel,suchintermarriagetookplace.Arvardan, however, uncovered traces of the early civilization that had

precededthethenthousand-year-oldbarbarismofOphiuchusandprovedthattheearliestrecordsoftheplanetshowedtracesofinterstellartrade.Thefinaltouchcamewhenhedemonstratedbeyondanydoubt thatManhad emigrated to theregioninanalreadycivilizedstate.ItwasafterthatthattheJ.Gal.Arch.Soc.(togivetheJournalitsprofessional

abbreviation) decided to print Arvardan’s Senior Dissertation more than tenyearsafterithadbeenpresented.And now the pursuit of his pet theory led Arvardan to probably the least

significantplanetoftheEmpire—theplanetcalledEarth.

Arvardan landed at that one spot of Empire on all Earth, that patchamongthedesolateheightsoftheplateausnorthoftheHimalayas.Therewhereradioactivitywasnot,andneverhadbeen,theregleamedapalacethatwasnotofTerrestrial architecture. In essence it was a copy of the viceregal palaces thatexistedonmorefortunateworlds.Thesoftlushnessofthegroundswasbuiltforcomfort.Theforbiddingrockshadbeencoveredwithtopsoil,watered,immersedinanartificialatmosphereandclimate—andconvertedintofivesquaremilesoflawnsandflowergardens.The cost in energy involved in this performance was terrific by Earthly

calculations,but ithadbehind it thecompletely incredible resourcesof tensofmillionsofplanets,continuallygrowinginnumber.(IthasbeenestimatedthatintheYearoftheGalacticEra827anaverageoffiftynewplanetseachdaywereachievingthedignityofprovincialstatus,thisconditionrequiringtheattainmentofapopulationoffivehundredmillions.)Inthisspotofnon-EarthlivedtheProcuratorofEarth,andsometimes,inthis

artificialluxury,hecouldforgetthathewasaProcuratorofaratholeworldandrememberthathewasanaristocratofgreathonorandancientfamily.Hiswifewasperhapslessoftendeluded,particularlyatsuchtimesas,topping

agrassyknoll, shecouldsee in thedistance thesharp,decisive lineseparatingthe grounds from the fierce wilderness of Earth. It was then that not all thecolored fountains (luminescent at night, with an effect of cold liquid fire),floweredwalks,or idyllicgrovescouldcompensate for theknowledgeof theirexile.SoperhapsArvardanwaswelcomedevenmorethanprotocolmightcallfor.

TotheProcurator,afterall,ArvardanwasabreathofEmpire,ofspaciousness,ofboundlessness.AndArvardanforhispartfoundmuchtoadmire.Hesaid,“Thisisdonewell—andwithtaste.Itisamazinghowatouchofthe

central culture permeates the most outlying districts of our Empire, LordEnnius.”Ennius smiled. “I’m afraid the Procurator’s court here on Earth is more

pleasanttovisitthantolivein.Itisbutashellthatringshollowlywhentouched.Whenyouhaveconsideredmyself and family, the staff, the Imperialgarrison,both here and in the important planetary centers, together with an occasionalvisitorsuchasyourself,youhaveexhaustedall thetouchofthecentralculturethatexists.Itseemsscarcelyenough.”They sat in the colonnade in the dying afternoon, with the sun glinting

downwardtowardthemist-purpledjagsofthehorizonandtheairsoheavywiththescentofgrowingthingsthatitsmotionsweremerelysighsofexertion.Itwas,ofcourse,notquitesuitableforevenaProcuratortoshowtoogreata

curiosity about the doings of a guest, but that does not take into account theinhumanityofday-to-dayisolationfromalltheEmpire.Enniussaid,“Doyouplantostayforsometime,Dr.Arvardan?”“Astothat,LordEnnius,Icannotsurelysay.Ihavecomeaheadoftherestof

myexpeditioninordertoacquaintmyselfwithEarth’scultureandtofulfillthenecessary legal requirements. For instance, I must obtain the usual officialpermissionfromyoutoestablishcampsatthenecessarysites,andsoon.”“Ohgranted,granted!Butwhendoyoustartdigging?Andwhatevercanyou

possiblyexpecttofindonthismiserableheapofrubble?”“Ihope,ifallgoeswell,tobeabletosetupcampinafewmonths.Andasto

thisworld—why, it’s anythingbut amiserableheap. It is absolutelyunique intheGalaxy.”“Unique?”saidtheProcuratorstiffly.“Notatall!Itisaveryordinaryworld.It

ismoreorlessofapigpenofaworld,orahorribleholeofaworld,oracesspoolofaworld,oralmostanyotherparticularlyderogativeadjectiveyoucaretouse.Andyet,withallitsrefinementofnausea,itcannotevenachieveuniquenessinvillainy,butremainsanordinary,brutishpeasantworld.”“But,”saidArvardan,somewhattakenabackbytheenergyoftheinconsistent

statementsthusthrownathim,“theworldisradioactive.”“Well,whatofthat?SomethousandsofplanetsintheGalaxyareradioactive,

andsomeareconsiderablymoresothanEarth.”It was at this moment that the soft-gliding motion of the mobile cabinet

attractedtheirattention.Itcametoahaltwithineasyhandreach.Enniusgesturedtowarditandsaidtotheother,“Whatwouldyouprefer?”“I’mnotparticular.Alimetwist,perhaps.”“That can be handled. The cabinet will have the ingredients. . . . With or

withoutChensey?”“Justaboutatangofit,”saidArvardan,andhelduphisforefingerandthumb,

nearlytouching.“You’llhaveitinaminute.”Somewhereinthebowelsofthecabinet(perhapsthemostuniversallypopular

mechanicaloffspringofhumaningenuity)abartenderwentintoaction—anon-humanbartenderwhoseelectronicsoulmixedthingsnotbyjiggersbutbyatomcounts,whoseratioswereperfecteverytime,andwhocouldnotbematchedbyalltheinspiredartistryofanyonemerelyhuman.The tall glasses appeared from nowhere, it seemed, as they waited in the

appropriaterecesses.Arvardantookthegreenoneand,foramoment,feltthechillofitagainsthis

cheek.Thenheplacedtherimtohislipsandtasted.“Justright,”hesaid.Heplacedtheglassinthewell-fittedholderinthearmof

hischairandsaid,“Thousandsofradioactiveplanets,Procurator,justasyousay,butonlyoneofthemisinhabited.Thisone,Procurator.”“Well”—Enniussmackedhislipsoverhisowndrinkandseemedtolosesome

ofhissharpnessaftercontactwithitsvelvet—“perhapsitisuniqueinthatway.It’sanunenviabledistinction.”“But it is not just a question of statistical uniqueness.” Arvardan spoke

deliberately between occasional sips. “It goes further; it has tremendouspotentialities.Biologistshaveshown,orclaimtohaveshown,thatonplanetsinwhichtheintensityofradioactivityintheatmosphereandintheseasisaboveacertainpointlifewillnotdevelop....Earth’sradioactivityisabovethatpointbyaconsiderablemargin.”“Interesting. Ididn’tknowthat. I imagine that thiswouldconstitutedefinite

proof that Earth life is fundamentally different from that of the rest of theGalaxy. . . . That should suit you, since you’re from Sirius.” He seemedsardonicallyamusedatthispointandsaidinaconfidentialaside,“Doyouknowthatthebiggestsingledifficultyinvolvedinrulingthisplanetliesincopingwiththe intense anti-Terrestrialism that exists throughout the entire Sirius Sector?AndthefeelingisreturnedwithinterestonthepartoftheseEarthmen.I’mnotsaying, of course, that anti-Terrestrialism doesn’t exist inmore or less dilutedforminmanyplacesintheGalaxy,butnotlikeonSirius.”Arvardan’sresponsewas impatientandvehement.“LordEnnius, I reject the

implication.Ihaveaslittleintoleranceinmeasanymanliving.Ibelieveintheoneness of humanity tomy very scientific core, and that includes evenEarth.Andalllifeisfundamentallyone,inthatitisallbaseduponproteincomplexesincolloidaldispersion,whichwecallprotoplasm.TheeffectofradioactivitythatIjusttalkedofdoesnotapplysimplytosomeformsofhumanlife,ortosomeforms of any life. It applies to all life, since it is based upon the quantummechanics of the proteinmolecules. It applies to you, tome, to Earthmen, tospiders,andtogerms.“Yousee,proteins,asIprobablyneedn’ttellyou,areimmenselycomplicated

groupingsofaminoacidsandcertainotherspecializedcompounds,arrangedinintricatethree-dimensionalpatternsthatareasunstableassunbeamsonacloudyday.Itisthisinstabilitythatislife,sinceitisforeverchangingitspositioninaneffort to maintain its identity—in the manner of a long rod balanced on anacrobat’snose.

“But this marvelous chemical, this protein, must be first built up out ofinorganicmatterbeforelifecanexist.So,attheverybeginning,bytheinfluenceof the sun’s radiant energy upon those huge solutionswe call oceans, organicmoleculesgraduallyincreaseincomplexityfrommethanetoformaldehydeandfinallytosugarsandstarchesinonedirection,andfromureatoaminoacidsandproteins in another direction. It’s a matter of chance, of course, thesecombinations anddisintegrations of atoms, and the process ononeworldmaytakemillionsofyearswhileonanotheritmaytakeonlyhundreds.Ofcourseitismuch more probable that it will take millions of years. In fact, it is mostprobablethatitwillendupneverhappening.“Nowphysicalorganicchemistshaveworkedoutwithgreatexactnessallthe

reaction chain involved, particularly the energetics thereof; that is, the energyrelationshipsinvolvedineachatomshift.Itisnowknownbeyondtheshadowofadoubtthatseveralofthecrucialstepsinthebuildingofliferequiretheabsenceof radiant energy. If this strikes you as queer, Procurator, I can only say thatphotochemistry(thechemistryofreactionsinducedbyradiantenergy)isawell-developedbranchofthescience,andthereareinnumerablecasesofverysimplereactions which will go in one of two different directions depending uponwhetherittakesplaceinthepresenceorabsenceofquantaoflightenergy.“Inordinaryworldsthesunistheonlysourceofradiantenergy,or,atleast,by

farthemajorsource.Intheshelterofclouds,oratnight,thecarbonandnitrogencompounds combine and recombine, in the fashions made possible by theabsenceofthoselittlebitsofenergyhurledintothemidstofthembythesun—likebowlingballsintothemidstofaninfinitenumberofinfinitesimaltenpins.“Butonradioactiveworlds,sunornosun,everydropofwater—eveninthe

deepestnight, even fivemilesunder—sparklesandburstswithdartinggammarays, kicking up the carbon atoms—activating them, the chemists say—andforcing certain key reactions to proceed only in certainways,ways that neverresultinlife.”Arvardan’sdrinkwasgone.Heplacedtheemptyglassonthewaitingcabinet.

Itwaswithdrawn instantly into thespecialcompartmentwhere itwascleaned,sterilized,andmadereadyforthenextdrink.“Anotherone?”askedEnnius.“Askmeafterdinner,”saidArvardan.“I’vehadquiteenoughfornow.”Enniustappedataperingfingernailuponthearmofhischairandsaid,“You

maketheprocesssoundquitefascinating,butifallisasyousay,thenwhataboutthelifeonEarth?Howdiditdevelop?”“Ah,yousee,evenyouarebeginning towonder.But theanswer, I think, is

simple.Radioactivity,inexcessoftheminimumrequiredtopreventlife,isstill

notnecessarilysufficienttodestroylifealreadyformed.Itmightmodifyit,but,except in comparatively huge excess, it will not destroy it. . . . You see, thechemistry involved is different. In the first case, simple molecules must beprevented from building up, while in the second, already-formed complexmoleculesmustbebrokendown.Notatallthesamething.”“Idon’tgettheapplicationofthatatall,”saidEnnius.“Isn’t it obvious? Life on Earth originated before the planet became

radioactive.MydearProcurator,itistheonlypossibleexplanationthatdoesnotinvolve denying either the fact of life on Earth or enough chemical theory toupsethalfthescience.”Enniusgazedattheotherinamazeddisbelief.“Butyoucan’tmeanthat.”“Whynot?”“Because how can a world become radioactive? The life of the radioactive

elements in the planet’s crust are in the millions and billions of years. I’velearnedthat,atleast,duringmyuniversitycareer,eveninapre-lawcourse.Theymusthaveexistedindefinitelyinthepast.”“But there issucha thingasartificialradioactivity,LordEnnius—evenona

huge scale. There are thousands of nuclear reactions of sufficient energy tocreateallsortsofradioactiveisotopes.Why,ifweweretosupposethathumanbeings might use some applied nuclear reaction in industry, without propercontrols,oreveninwar,ifyoucanimagineanythinglikeawarproceedingonasingle planet, most of the topsoil could, conceivably, be converted intoartificiallyradioactivematerials.Whatdoyousaytothat?”The sunhadexpired inbloodon themountains, andEnnius’s thin facewas

ruddyinthereflectionofthatprocess.Thegentleeveningwindstirred,andthedrowsymurmurofthecarefullyselectedvarietiesofinsectlifeuponthepalacegroundswasmoresoothingthanever.Enniussaid,“It soundsveryartificial tome.Forone thing, Ican’tconceive

usingnuclearreactionsinwarorlettingthemgetoutofcontroltothisextentinanymanner—”“Naturally, sir, you tend to underestimate nuclear reactions because you’re

livinginthepresent,whenthey’resoeasilycontrolled.Butwhatifsomeone—orsomearmy—usedsuchweaponsbefore thedefensehadbeenworkedout?Forinstance,it’slikeusingfirebombsbeforeanyoneknewthatwaterorsandwouldputoutfire.”“Hmm,”saidEnnius,“yousoundlikeShekt.”“Who’sShekt?”Arvardanlookedupquickly.“AnEarthman.Oneofthefewdecentones—Imean,onethatagentlemancan

speak to.He’s a physicist.He toldme once thatEarthmight not always have

beenradioactive.”“Ah....Well,that’snotunusual,sincethetheoryiscertainlynotoriginalwith

me. It’s part of the Book of the Ancients, which contains the traditional, ormythical,historyofprehistoricEarth.I’msayingwhatitsays,inaway,exceptthat I’m putting its rather elliptical phraseology into equivalent scientificstatements.”“The Book of the Ancients?” Ennius seemed surprised, and a little upset.

“Wheredidyougetthat?”“Hereand there. Itwasn’teasy,andIonlyobtainedparts.Ofcourseall this

traditional information about nonradioactivity, even where completelyunscientific,isimportanttomyproject....Whydoyouask?”“Because the book is the revered text of a radical sect of Earthmen. It is

forbidden for Outsiders to read it. I wouldn’t broadcast the fact that you did,either,whileyou’rehere.Non-Earthmen,orOutsiders, as theycall them,havebeenlynchedforless.”“YoumakeitsoundasiftheImperialpolicepowerhereisdefective.”“Itisincasesofsacrilege.Awordtothewise,Dr.Arvardan!”Amelodiouschimesoundedavibrantnotethatseemedtoharmonizewiththe

rustlingwhisperofthetrees.Itfadedoutslowly,lingeringasthoughinlovewithitssurroundings.Enniusrose.“Ibelieveit is timefordinner.Willyoujoinme,sir,andenjoy

suchhospitalityasthishuskofEmpireonEarthcanafford?”An occasion for an elaborate dinner came infrequently enough.An excuse,

even a slim one, was not to be missed. So the courses were many, thesurroundingslavish,themenpolished,andthewomenbewitching.And,itmustbe added, Dr. B. Arvardan of Baronn, Sirius, was lionized to quite anintoxicatingextent.Arvardan took advantageof his dinner audience during the latter portionof

thebanquettorepeatmuchofwhathehadsaidtoEnnius,butherehisexpositionmetwithmarkedlylesssuccess.Afloridgentlemanincolonel’suniformleanedtowardhimwiththatmarked

condescensionof themilitarymanfor thescholarandsaid,“IfI interpretyourexpressionsrightly,Dr.Arvardan,youaretryingtotellusthatthesehoundsofEarth represent an ancient race that may once have been the ancestors of allhumanity?”“I hesitate, Colonel, to make the flat assertion, but I think there is an

interestingchancethatitmightbeso.AyearfromnowIconfidentlyhopetobeabletomakeadefinitejudgment.”“If you find that they are, Doctor, which I strongly doubt,” rejoined the

colonel,“youwillastonishmebeyondmeasure.IhavebeenstationedonEarthnow for four years, and my experience is not of the smallest. I find theseEarthmen toberoguesandknaves,everyoneof them.Theyaredefinitelyourinferiorsintellectually.TheylackthatsparkthathasspreadhumanitythroughouttheGalaxy.Theyarelazy,superstitious,avaricious,andwithnotraceofnobilityofsoul.Idefyyou,oranyone,toshowmeanEarthmanwhocaninanywaybeanequalofanytrueman—yourselformyself,forinstance—andonlythenwillIgrantyouthathemayrepresentaracewhooncewereourancestors.But,untilthen,pleaseexcusemefrommakinganysuchassumption.”Aportlymanatthefootofthetablesaidsuddenly,“Theysaytheonlygood

Earthman is a dead Earthman, and that even then they generally stink,” andlaughedimmoderately.Arvardanfrownedatthedishbeforehimandsaid,withoutlookingup,“Ihave

nodesiretoargueracialdifferences,especiallysinceitisirrelevantinthiscase.It is theEarthmanofprehistory that Ispeakof.Hisdescendantsof todayhavebeenlongisolated,andhavebeensubjectedtoamostunusualenvironment—yetIstillwouldnotdismissthemtoocasually.”He turned to Ennius and said, “My Lord, I believe you mentioned an

Earthmanbeforedinner.”“Idid?Idon’trecall.”“Aphysicist.Shekt.”“Ohyes.Yes.”“AffretShekt,perhaps?”“Why,yes.Haveyouheardofhim?”“I think I have. It’s been bothering me all through dinner, ever since you

mentionedhim,but I think I’veplacedhim.Hewouldn’tbeat the InstituteofNuclearResearchat—Oh,what’sthenameofthatdamnedplace?”Hestruckathisforeheadwiththeheelofhispalmonceortwice.“AtChica?”“Youhavetherightperson.Whatabouthim?”“Only this. There was an article by him in the August issue of Physical

Reviews. I noticed it because I was looking for anything that had to do withEarth,andarticlesbyEarthmeninjournalsofGalacticcirculationareveryrare.. . . In anycase, thepoint I am trying tomake is that themanclaims tohavedeveloped somethinghecalls aSynapsifier,which is supposed to improve thelearningcapacityofthemammaliannervoussystem.”“Really?”saidEnniusabittoosharply.“Ihaven’theardaboutit.”“I can find you the reference. It’s quite an interesting article; though, of

course, I can’t pretend to understand the mathematics involved.What he hasdone,however,hasbeentotreatsomeindigenousanimalformonEarth—rats,I

believe they call them—with the Synapsifier and then put them to solving amaze. You know what I mean: learning the proper pathway through a tinylabyrinth to some food supply.Heusednon-treated rats as controls and foundthatineverycasetheSynapsifiedratssolvedthemazeinlessthanonethirdthetime....Doyouseethesignificance,Colonel?”The military man who had initiated the discussion said indifferently, “No,

Doctor,Idonot.”“I’ll explain, then, that I firmly believe that any scientist capable of doing

suchwork,evenanEarthman,iscertainlymyintellectualequal,atleast,and,ifyou’llpardonmypresumption,yoursaswell.”Ennius interrupted. “Pardonme,Dr.Arvardan. Iwould like to return to the

Synapsifier.HasShektexperimentedwithhumanbeings?”Arvardan laughed. “I doubt it, Lord Ennius.Nine tenths of his Synapsified

rats died during treatment. He would scarcely dare use human subjects untilmuchmoreprogresshasbeenmade.”SoEnniussankback intohischairwitha slight frownonhis foreheadand,

thereafter,neitherspokenoratefortheremainderofthedinner.BeforemidnighttheProcuratorhadquietlyleftthegatheringand,withabare

wordtohiswifeonly,departedinhisprivatecruiseronthetwo-hourtriptothecityofChica,withtheslightfrownstillonhisforeheadandaraginganxietyinhisheart.Thusitwasthatonthe sameafternoon thatArbinMarenbrought JosephSchwartz intoChica for treatmentwithShekt’sSynapsifier, Shekt himself hadbeenclosetedwithnonelessthantheProcuratorofEarthforoveranhour.

4

TheRoyalRoad

ArbinwasuneasyinChica.Hefeltsurrounded.SomewhereinChica,oneofthelargestcitiesonEarth—theysaidithadfiftythousandhumanbeingsinit—somewheretherewereofficialsofthegreatouterEmpire.To be sure, he had never seen aman of theGalaxy; yet here, inChica, his

neckwascontinuallytwistinginfearthathemight.Ifpinneddown,hecouldnothaveexplainedhowhewouldidentifyanOutsiderfromanEarthman,evenifheweretoseeone,butitwasinhisverymarrowtofeelthattherewas,somehow,adifference.HelookedbackoverhisshoulderasheenteredtheInstitute.Hisbiwheelwas

parkedinanopenarea,withasix-hourcouponholdingaspotopenforit.Wastheextravaganceitselfsuspicious?. . .Everythingfrightenedhimnow.Theairwasfullofeyesandears.Ifonlythestrangemanwouldremembertoremainhiddeninthebottomofthe

rear compartment.He had nodded violently—but had he understood?Hewassuddenly impatient with himself. Why had he let Grew talk him into thismadness?Andthensomehowthedoorwasopeninfrontofhimandavoicehadbroken

inonhisthoughts.Itsaid,“Whatdoyouwant?”Itsoundedimpatient;perhapsithadalreadyaskedhimthatsamethingseveral

times.

Heansweredhoarsely,words chokingout of his throat likedrypowder, “IsthiswhereamancanapplyfortheSynapsifier?”Thereceptionistlookedupsharplyandsaid,“Signhere.”Arbinput his hands behindhis back and repeatedhuskily, “Where do I see

about the Synapsifier?”Grew had told him the name, but theword came outqueerly,likesomuchgibberish.Butthereceptionistsaid,withironinhervoice,“Ican’tdoanythingforyou

unlessyousigntheregisterasavisitor.It’sintherules.”Without a word, Arbin turned to go. The young woman behind the desk

pressed her lips together and kicked the signal bar at the side of her chairviolently.Arbinwasfightingdesperatelyforalackofnotorietyandfailingmiserablyin

his own mind. This girl was looking hard at him. She’d remember him athousandyearslater.Hehadawilddesiretorun,runbacktothecar,backtothefarm...Someoneinawhitelabcoatwascomingrapidlyoutofanotherroom,andthe

receptionistwas pointing to him. “Volunteer for the Synapsifier,Miss Shekt,”shewassaying.“Hewon’tgivehisname.”Arbin lookedup. Itwasstill anothergirl,young.He lookeddisturbed.“Are

youinchargeofthemachine,miss?”“No,notatall.”Shesmiledinaveryfriendlyfashion,andArbinfeltanxiety

ebbslightly.“Icantakeyoutohim,though,”shewenton.Then,eagerly,“Doyoureally

wanttovolunteerfortheSynapsifier?”“Ijustwanttoseethemanincharge,”Arbinsaidwoodenly.“All right.”She seemednot at all disturbedby the rebuff.She slippedback

through the door from which she had come. There was a short wait. Then,finally,therewasthebeckonofafinger...Hefollowedher,heartpounding, intoasmallanteroom.Shesaidgently,“If

youwillwaitabouthalfanhourorless,Dr.Shektwillbewithyou.Heisverybusyjustnow....Ifyouwouldlikesomebookfilmsandaviewertopassthetime,I’llbringthemtoyou.”ButArbinshookhishead.Thefourwallsofthesmallroomclosedabouthim,

andheldhim rigid, it seemed.Washe trapped?Were theAncientscoming forhim?ItwasthelongestwaitinArbin’slife.

Lord Ennius, Procurator of Earth, had experienced no comparable

difficultiesinseeingDr.Shekt,thoughhehadexperiencedanalmostcomparableexcitement.InhisfourthyearasProcurator,avisit toChicawasstillanevent.As the direct representative of the remote Emperor, his social standing was,legalistically, upon a parwith viceroys of hugeGalactic sectors that sprawledtheirgleamingvolumesacrosshundredsofcubicparsecsofspace,but,actually,hispostwaslittleshortofexile.Trapped as he was in the sterile emptiness of the Himalayas, among the

equally sterile quarrels of a population that hated him and the Empire herepresented,evenatriptoChicawasescape.Tobesure,hisescapeswereshortones.Theyhad tobeshort, sincehereat

Chicaitwasnecessarytowearlead-impregnatedclothesatalltimes,evenwhilesleeping,and,whatwasworse,todoseoneselfcontinuallywithmetaboline.HespokebitterlyofthattoShekt.“Metaboline,”hesaid,holdingupthevermilionpillforinspection,“isperhaps

atruesymbolofall thatyourplanetmeanstome,myfriend.Itsfunctionis toheighten all metabolic processes while I sit here immersed in the radioactivecloudthatsurroundsmeandwhichyouarenotevenawareof.”He swallowed it. “There!Nowmyheartwill beatmore quickly;my breath

will pump a race of its own accord; and my liver will boil away in thosechemicalsynthesesthat,medicalmentellme,makeitthemostimportantfactoryin the body. And for that I pay with a siege of headaches and lassitudeafterward.”Dr. Shekt listened with some amusement. He gave a strong impression of

being nearsighted, did Shekt, not because hewore glasses orwas in anywayafflicted,butmerelybecauselonghabithadgivenhimtheunconscioustrickofpeeringcloselyatthings,ofweighingallfactsanxiouslybeforesayinganything.Hewastallandinhislatemiddleage,histhinfigureslightlystooped.ButhewaswellreadinmuchofGalacticculture,andhewasrelativelyfreeof

thetrickofuniversalhostilityandsuspicionthatmadetheaverageEarthmansorepulsiveeventosocosmopolitanamanoftheEmpireasEnnius.Shektsaid,“I’msureyoudon’tneedthepill.Metabolineis justoneofyour

superstitions, andyouknow it. If Iwere to substitute sugar pillswithout yourknowledge, you’d be none the worse. What’s more, you would evenpsychosomaticizeyourselfintosimilarheadachesafterward.”“Yousaythatinthecomfortofyourownenvironment.Doyoudenythatyour

basalmetabolismishigherthanmine?”“Of course I don’t, but what of it? I know that it is a superstition of the

Empire,Ennius,thatwemenofEartharedifferentfromotherhumanbeings,butthat’snotreallysointheessentials.Orareyoucominghereasamissionaryof

theanti-Terrestrians?”Ennius groaned. “By the life of the Emperor, your comrades of Earth are

themselves the best suchmissionaries. Living here, as they do, cooped up ontheirdeadlyplanet,festeringintheirownanger, they’renothingbutastandingulcerintheGalaxy.“I’m serious, Shekt. What planet has so much ritual in its daily life and

adheres to it with such masochistic fury? Not a day passes but I receivedelegationsfromoneoranotherofyourrulingbodiesforthedeathpenaltyforsomepoordevilwhoseonlycrimehasbeentoinvadeaforbiddenarea,toevadetheSixty,orperhapsmerelytoeatmorethanhisshareoffood.”“Ah,butyoualwaysgrantthedeathpenalty.Youridealisticdistasteseemsto

stopshortatresisting.”“TheStarsaremywitnessthatIstruggletodenythedeath.Butwhatcanone

do? The Emperorwill have it that all the subdivisions of the Empire are toremainundisturbed in their local customs—and that is right andwise, since itremovespopularsupportfromthefoolswhowouldotherwisekickuprebelliononalternateTuesdaysandThursdays.Besides,wereItoremainobduratewhenyourCouncils andSenatesandChambers insiston thedeath, sucha shriekingwouldariseandsuchawildhowlingandsuchdenunciationof theEmpireandall its works that I would sooner sleep in themidst of a legion of devils fortwentyyearsthanfacesuchanEarthfortenminutes.”Shektsighedandrubbedthethinhairbackuponhisskull.“Totherestofthe

Galaxy,iftheyareawareofusatall,Earthisbutapebbleinthesky.Tousitishome,andallthehomeweknow.Yetwearenodifferentfromyouoftheouterworlds,merelymoreunfortunate.Wearecrowdedhereonaworldallbutdead,immersed within a wall of radiation that imprisons us, surrounded by a hugeGalaxy that rejects us.What canwe do against the feeling of frustration thatburnsus?Wouldyou,Procurator,bewillingthatwesendoursurpluspopulationabroad?”Enniusshrugged.“WouldIcare?Itistheoutsidepopulationsthemselvesthat

would.Theydon’tcaretofallvictimtoTerrestrialdiseases.”“Terrestrialdiseases!”Shektscowled.“It isanonsensicalnotion that should

beeradicated.Wearenotcarriersofdeath.Areyoudeadforhavingbeenamongus?”“Tobesure,”smiledEnnius,“Idoeverythingtopreventunduecontact.”“Itisbecauseyouyourselffearthepropagandacreated,afterall,onlybythe

stupidityofyourownbigots.”“Why, Shekt, no scientific basis at all to the theory that Earthmen are

themselvesradioactive?”

“Yes,certainlytheyare.Howcouldtheyavoidit?Soareyou.Soiseveryoneoneveryoneof thehundredmillionplanetsof theEmpire.Wearemore so, Igrantyou,butscarcelyenoughtoharmanyone.”“ButtheaveragemanoftheGalaxybelievestheopposite,Iamafraid,andis

notdesirousoffindingoutbyexperiment.Besides—”“Besides, you’re going to say, we’re different. We’re not human beings,

because we mutate more rapidly, due to atomic radiation, and have thereforechangedinmanyways....Alsonotproven.”“Butbelieved.”“Andaslongasit issobelieved,Procurator,andaslongasweofEarthare

treatedaspariahs,youaregoing to find inus thecharacteristics towhichyouobject. If you push us intolerably, is it to bewondered at thatwe push back?Hatingusasyoudo,canyoucomplainthatwehateinourturn?No,no,wearefarmoretheoffendedthantheoffending.”Ennius was chagrined at the anger he had raised. Even the best of these

Earthmen,hethought,havethesameblindspot,thesamefeelingofEarthversusalltheuniverse.He said tactfully, “Shekt, forgivemyboorishness,will you?Takemyyouth

andboredomasexcuse.Youseebeforeyouapoorman,ayoungfellowofforty—and forty is the age of a babe in the professional civil service—who isgrindingouthisapprenticeshiphereonEarth.ItmaybeyearsbeforethefoolsintheBureauoftheOuterProvincesremembermelongenoughtopromotemetosomethinglessdeadly.SowearebothprisonersofEarthandbothcitizensofthegreat world of the mind in which there is distinction of neither planet norphysicalcharacteristics.Givemeyourhand,then,andletusbefriends.”The lines onShekt’s face smoothedout, or,more exactly,were replacedby

othersmoreindicativeofgoodhumor.Helaughedoutright.“Thewordsarethewordsof a suppliant, but the tone is still that of the Imperial career diplomat.Youareapooractor,Procurator.”“Thencountermebybeingagoodteacher,andtellmeofthisSynapsifierof

yours.”Shektstartedvisiblyandfrowned.“What,youhaveheardoftheinstrument?

Youarethenaphysicistaswellasanadministrator?”“All knowledge ismyprovince.But seriously, Shekt, Iwould really like to

know.”Thephysicistpeeredcloselyattheotherandseemeddoubtful.Heroseandhis

gnarled hand lifted to his lip,which it pinched thoughtfully. “I scarcely knowwheretobegin.”“Well,Starsabove,ifyouareconsideringatwhichpointinthemathematical

theoryyouare tobegin, I’llsimplifyyourproblem.Abandonthemall. Iknownothingofyourfunctionsandtensorsandwhatnot.”Shekt’s eyes twinkled. “Well, then, to stick to descriptivematter only, it is

simplyadeviceintendedtoincreasethelearningcapacityofahumanbeing.”“Ofahumanbeing?Really!Anddoesitwork?”“Iwishweknew.Muchmoreworkisnecessary.I’llgiveyoutheessentials,

Procurator,andyoucanjudgeforyourself.Thenervoussysteminman—andinanimals—iscomposedofneuroproteinmaterial.Suchmaterialconsistsofhugemoleculesinveryprecariouselectricalbalance.Theslighteststimuluswillupsetone,whichwillrightitselfbyupsettingthenext,whichwillrepeattheprocess,until the brain is reached. The brain itself is an immense grouping of similarmoleculeswhich are connected among themselves in all possibleways. Sincetherearesomethingliketentothetwentiethpower—thatis,aonewithtwentyzeros after it—such neuroproteins in the brain, the number of possiblecombinationsareof theorderof factorial ten to the twentiethpower.This isanumbersolargethatifall theelectronsandprotonsintheuniverseweremadeuniverses themselves, and all the electrons and protons in all of these newuniverses again made universes, then all the electrons and protons in all theuniverses so createdwould still benothing in comparison. . . .Doyou followme?”“Notaword,thanktheStars.IfIevenattemptedto,Ishouldbarklikeadog

forsheerpainoftheintellect.”“Hmp. Well, in any case, what we call nerve impulses are merely the

progressiveelectronicunbalancethatproceedsalongthenervestothebrainandthenfromthebrainbackalongthenerves.Doyougetthat?”“Yes.”“Well,blessingsonyouforagenius,then.Aslongasthisimpulsecontinues

along a nerve cell, it proceeds at a rapid rate, since the neuroproteins arepractically in contact.However, nerve cells are limited in extent, andbetweeneach nerve cell and the next is a very thin partition of non-nervous tissue. Inotherwords,twoadjoiningnervecellsdonotactuallyconnectwitheachother.”“Ah,”saidEnnius,“andthenervousimpulsemustjumpthebarrier.”“Exactly!Thepartitiondropsthestrengthoftheimpulseandslowsthespeed

of its transmissionaccording to thesquareof thewidth thereof.Thisholds forthebrainaswell.Butimagine,now,ifsomemeanscouldbefoundtolowerthedialectricconstantofthispartitionbetweenthecells.”“Thatwhatconstant?”“The insulating strength of the partition. That’s all I mean. If that were

decreased,theimpulsewouldjumpthegapmoreeasily.Youwouldthinkfaster

andlearnfaster.”“Well,then,Icomebacktomyoriginalquestion.Doesitwork?”“Ihavetriedtheinstrumentonanimals.”“Andwithwhatresult?”“Why, that most die very quickly of denaturation of brain protein—

coagulation,inotherwords,likehard-boilinganegg.”Ennius winced. “There is something ineffably cruel about the cold-

bloodednessofscience.Whataboutthosethatdidn’tdie?”“Notconclusive,sincethey’renothumanbeings.Theburdenoftheevidence

seemstobefavorable,forthem....ButIneedhumans.Yousee,itisamatterofthenaturalelectronicpropertiesoftheindividualbrain.Eachbraingivesrisetomicrocurrents of a certain type. None are exactly duplicates. They’re likefingerprints,ortheblood-vesselpatternsoftheretina.Ifanything,they’reevenmoreindividual.Thetreatment,Ibelieve,must takethat intoaccount,and, ifIamright,therewillbenomoredenaturation....ButIhavenohumanbeingsonwhomtoexperiment.Iaskforvolunteers,but—”Hespreadhishands.“Icertainlydon’tblamethem,oldman,”saidEnnius.“Butseriously,should

theinstrumentbeperfected,whatdoyouintenddoingwithit?”Thephysicistshrugged.“That’snotformetosay.ItwouldbeuptotheGrand

Council,ofcourse.”“YouwouldnotconsidermakingtheinventionavailabletotheEmpire?”“I? I have no objections at all.But only theGrandCouncil has jurisdiction

over—”“Oh,” said Ennius with impatience, “the devil with your Grand Council. I

havehaddealingswiththembefore.Wouldyoubewillingtotalktothematthepropertime?”“Why,whatinfluencecouldIpossiblehave?”“YoumighttellthemthatifEarthcouldproduceaSynapsifierthatwouldbe

applicable to human beings in complete safety, and if the device were madeavailable to the Galaxy, then some of the restrictions on emigration to otherplanetsmightbebrokendown.”“What,” said Shekt sarcastically, “and risk epidemics and our differentness

andournon-humanity?”“You might,” said Ennius quietly, “even be removed en masse to another

planet.Considerit.”Thedooropenedat thispointandayoungladybrushedherwayinpast the

book-filmcabinet.Shedestroyed themustyatmosphereof thecloisteredstudywith an automatic breath of spring. At the sight of a stranger she reddenedslightlyandturned.

“Come in, Pola,” called Shekt hastily. “My Lord,” he said to Ennius, “Ibelieveyouhavenevermetmydaughter.Pola,thisisLordEnnius,ProcuratorofEarth.”TheProcuratorwas on his feetwith an easy gallantry that negated her first

wildattemptatacurtsy.“MydearMissShekt,”hesaid,“youareanornamentIdidnotbelieveEarth

capableof producing.Youwould, indeed, be anornamenton anyworld I canthinkof.”HetookPola’shand,whichwasquicklyandsomewhatbashfullyextendedto

meet his gesture. For a moment Ennius made as if to kiss it, in the courtlyfashionof thepast generation, but the intention, if such itwas, never came tofruition.Halflifted,thehandwasreleased—atracetooquickly,perhaps.Pola,withtheslightestoffrowns,said,“I’moverwhelmedatyourkindness,

myLord,toasimplegirlofEarth.Youarebraveandgallanttodareinfectionasyoudo.”Shekt cleared his throat and interrupted. “My daughter, Procurator, is

completingherstudiesattheUniversityofChicaandisobtainingsomeneededfieldcreditsbyspending twodaysaweek inmy laboratoryasa technician.Acompetentgirl,andthoughIsayitwiththeprideofafather,shemaysomedaysitinmyplace.”“Father,”saidPolagently,“Ihavesomeimportantinformationforyou.”She

hesitated.“ShallIleave?”saidEnniusquietly.“No,no,”saidShekt.“Whatisit,Pola?”Thegirlsaid,“Wehaveavolunteer,Father.”Shektstared,almoststupidly.“FortheSynapsifier?”“Sohesays.”“Well,”saidEnnius,“Ibringyougoodfortune,Isee.”“Soitwouldseem.”Shektturnedtohisdaughter.“Tellhimtowait.Takehim

toRoomC,andI’llbewithhimsoon.”HeturnedtoEnniusafterPolaleft.“Willyouexcuseme,Procurator?”“Certainly.Howlongdoestheoperationtake?”“It’samatterofhours,I’mafraid.Doyouwishtowatch?”“I can imagine nothingmore gruesome,my dear Shekt. I’ll be in the State

Housetilltomorrow.Willyoutellmetheresult?”Shektseemedrelieved.“Yes,certainly.”“Good....AndthinkoverwhatIsaidaboutyourSynapsifier.Yournewroyal

roadtoknowledge.”Enniusleft,lessateasethanwhenhehadarrived;hisknowledgenogreater,

hisfearsmuchincreased.

5

TheInvoluntaryVolunteer

Oncealone,Dr.Shekt,quietlyandcautiously, touchedthesummoner,andayoungtechnicianenteredhurriedly,whiterobesparkling,longbrownhaircarefullyboundback.Dr.Shektsaid,“HasPolatoldyou—”“Yes, Dr. Shekt. I’ve observed him through the visiplate, and he must

undoubtedly be a legitimate volunteer.He’s certainly not a subject sent in theusualmanner.”“OughtIrefertotheCouncil,doyousuppose?”“Idon’tknowwhattoadvise.TheCouncilwouldn’tapproveofanyordinary

communication.Anybeamcanbetapped,youknow.”Then,eagerly,“SupposeIget rid of him. I can tell himwe needmen under thirty.The subject is easilythirty-five.”“No,no.I’dbetterseehim.”Shekt’smindwasacoldwhirl.Sofarthingshad

been most judiciously handled. Just enough information to lend a spuriousfrankness, but nomore.And now an actual volunteer—and immediately afterEnnius’s visit. Was there a connection? Shekt himself had but the vaguestknowledge of the giantmisty forces thatwere nowbeginning towrestle backand forth across the blasted face of Earth. But, in a way, he knew enough.Enoughtofeelhimselfatthemercyofthem,andcertainlymorethananyoftheAncientssuspectedheknew.Yetwhatcouldhedo,sincehislifewasdoublyindanger?

Ten minutes later Dr. Shekt was peering helplessly at the gnarled farmerstanding before him, cap in hand, head half averted, as though attempting toavoidatoo-closescrutiny.Hisage,thoughtShekt,wascertainlyunderforty,butthehardlifeofthesoilwasnoflattererofmen.Theman’scheekswerereddenedbeneaththeleatherybrown,andthereweredistincttracesofperspirationatthehairline and the temples, though the room was cool. The man’s hands werefumblingateachother.“Now,mydearsir,”saidShektkindly,“Iunderstandyourefusetogiveyour

name.”Arbin’swasablindstubbornness.“Iwastoldnoquestionswouldbeaskedif

youhadavolunteer.”“Hmm.Well, is there anythingat all youwould like to say?Ordoyou just

wanttobetreatedimmediately?”“Me? Here, now?” in sudden panic. “It’s not myself that’s the volunteer. I

didn’tsayanythingtogivethatimpression.”“No?Youmeansomeoneelseisthevolunteer?”“Certainly.WhatwouldIwant—”“Iunderstand.Isthesubject,thisotherman,withyou?”“Inaway,”saidArbincautiously.“Allright.Now,look,justtelluswhateveryouwish.Everythingyousaywill

be held in strict confidence, and we’ll help you in whatever way we can.Agreed?”The farmer ducked his head, as a sort of rudimentary gesture of respect.

“Thankyou. It’s like this, sir.Wehaveamanabout the farm,adistant—uh—relative.Hehelps,youunderstand—”Arbinswallowedwithdifficulty,andShektnoddedgravely.Arbin continued. “He’s a verywillingworker and a verygood worker—we

hadason,yousee,buthedied—andmygoodwomanandmyself,yousee,needthehelp—she’snotwell—wecouldnotgetalongwithouthim,scarcely.”Hefeltthatsomehowthestorywasacompletemess.But thegauntscientistnoddedathim.“Andthisrelativeofyours is theone

youwishtreated?”“Why,yes, I thought Ihadsaid that—butyou’llpardonme if this takesme

some time. You see, the poor fellow is not—exactly—right in his head.” Hehurriedon,furiously.“Heisnotsick,youunderstand.Heisnotwrongsothathehastobeputaway.He’sjustslow.Hedoesn’ttalk,yousee.”“Hecan’ttalk?”Shektseemedstartled.“Oh—hecan.It’sjustthathedoesn’tliketo.Hedoesn’ttalkwell.”Thephysicistlookeddubious.“AndyouwanttheSynapsifiertoimprovehis

mentality,eh?”Slowly,Arbinnodded.“Ifheknewabitmore,sir,why,hecoulddosomeof

theworkmywifecan’t,yousee.”“Hemightdie.Doyouunderstandthat?”Arbinlookedathimhelplessly,andhisfingerswrithedfuriously.Shektsaid,“I’dneedhisconsent.”Thefarmershookhisheadslowly,stubbornly.“Hewon’tunderstand.”Then,

urgently,almostbeneathhisbreath,“Why,look,sir,I’msureyou’llunderstandme.Youdon’tlooklikeamanwhodoesn’tknowwhatahardlifeis.Thismanisgetting old. It’s not a question of the Sixty, you see, but what if, in the nextCensus, they think he’s a half-wit and—and take him away?Wedon’t like tolosehim,andthat’swhywebringhimhere.“ThereasonI’mtryingtobesecret-likeisthatmaybe—maybe”—andArbin’s

eyesswiveledinvoluntarilyatthewalls,asiftopenetratethembysheerwillanddetectthelistenersthatmightbebehind—“well,maybetheAncientswon’tlikewhatI’mdoing.MaybetryingtosaveanafflictedmancanbejudgedasagainsttheCustoms,butlifeishard,sir. . . .Anditwouldbeusefultoyou.Youhaveaskedforvolunteers.”“Iknow.Whereisyourrelative?”Arbin took the chance. “Out in my biwheel, if no one’s found him. He

wouldn’tbeabletotakecareofhimselfifanyonehas—”“Well,we’llhopehe’ssafe.YouandIwillgooutrightnowandbringthecar

aroundtoourbasementgarage.I’llseetoit thatnooneknowsofhispresencebutourselvesandmyhelpers.AndIassureyouthatyouwon’tbeintroublewiththeBrotherhood.”His arm dropped in friendly fashion to Arbin’s shoulder, who grinned

spasmodically.Tothefarmeritwaslikearopelooseningfromabouthisneck.Shekt looked down at the plump, balding figure upon the couch. Thepatient was unconscious, breathing deeply and regularly. He had spokenunintelligibly,hadunderstoodnothing.Yettherehadbeennoneofthephysicalstigmataoffeeblemindedness.Reflexeshadbeeninorder,foranoldman.Old!Hmm.HelookedacrossatArbin,whowatchedeverythingwithaglancelikeavise.“Wouldyoulikeustotakeaboneanalysis?”“No,” criedArbin. Then,more softly, “I don’twant anything thatmight be

identification.”“Itmighthelpus—besafer,youknow—ifweknewhisage,”saidShekt.

“He’sfifty,”saidArbinshortly.Thephysicistshrugged.Itdidn’tmatter.Againhelookedatthesleeper.When

brought in, the subject had been, or certainly seemed, dejected, withdrawn,uncaring.EventheHypno-pillshadapparentlyarousednosuspicion.Theyhadbeenofferedhim;therehadbeenaquick,spasmodicsmileinresponse,andhehadswallowedthem.Thetechnicianwasalreadyrollinginthelastoftheratherclumsyunitswhich

togethermade up theSynapsifier.At the touch of a push button the polarizedglassinthewindowsoftheoperatingroomunderwentmolecularrearrangementand became opaque. The only light was the white one that blazed its coldbrillianceupon thepatient suspended, as hewas, in themultihundred-kilowattdiamagnetic field some two inches above the operating table towhich hewastransferred.Arbin still sat in the dark there, understanding nothing, but determined in

deadlyfashiontoprevent,somehow,byhispresence,theharmfultricksheknewhehadnottheknowledgetoprevent.Thephysicistspaidnoattention tohim.Theelectrodeswereadjusted to the

patient’s skull. Itwasa long job.First therewas thecareful studyof the skullformationbytheUllstertechniquethatrevealedthewinding,tight-knitfissures.Grimly, Shekt smiled to himself. Skull fissures weren’t an unalterablequantitativemeasureofage,but theyweregoodenough in thiscase.Themanwasolderthantheclaimedfifty.Andthen,afterawhile,hedidnotsmile.Hefrowned.Therewassomething

wrongwiththefissures.Theyseemedodd—notquite...Foramomenthewasreadytoswearthattheskullformationwasaprimitive

one,athrowback,butthen...Well,themanwassubnormalinmentality.Whynot?Andsuddenlyheexclaimed inshock,“Why, Ihadn’tnoticed!Thismanhas

haironhisface!”HeturnedtoArbin.“Hashealwaysbeenbearded?”“Bearded?”“Haironhisface!Comehere!Don’tyouseeit?”“Yes,sir.”Arbinthoughtrapidly.Hehadnoticeditthatmorningandthenhad

forgotten.“Hewasbornlikethat,”hesaid,andthenweakeneditbyadding,“Ithink.”“Well,let’sremoveit.Youdon’twanthimgoingaroundlikeabrutebeast,do

you?”“No,sir.”The hair came off smoothly at the application of a depilatory salve by the

carefullyglovedtechnician.

Thetechniciansaid,“Hehashaironhischesttoo,Dr.Shekt.”“GreatGalaxy,”saidShekt,“letmesee!Why,themanisarug!Well,letitbe.

Itwon’tshowwithashirt,andIwanttogetonwiththeelectrodes.Let’shavewires here and here, and here.” Tiny pricks and the insertion of the platinumhair-lets.“Hereandhere.”A dozen connections, probing through skin to the fissures, through the

tightnessofwhichcouldbefeltthedelicateshadowechoesofthemicrocurrentsthatsurgedfromcelltocellinthebrain.Carefullytheywatchedthedelicateammetersstirandleap,astheconnections

were made and broken. The tiny needlepoint recorders traced their delicatespiderwebsacrossthegraphedpaperinirregularpeaksandtroughs.Thenthegraphswereremovedandplacedontheilluminatedopalglass.They

bentlowoverit,whispering.Arbincaughtdisjointedflashes:“...remarkablyregular...lookattheheight

ofthequinternarypeak...thinkitoughttobeanalyzed...clearenoughtotheeye...”Andthen,forwhatseemedalongtime,therewasatediousadjustmentofthe

Synapsifier.Knobswereturned,eyesonvernieradjustments,thenclampedandtheir readings recorded. Over and over again the various electrometers werecheckedandnewadjustmentsweremadenecessary.ThenShektsmiledatArbinandsaid,“Itwillallbeoververysoon.”Thelargemachinerywasadvanceduponthesleeperlikeaslow-movingand

hungrymonster.Four longwiresweredangled to the extremitiesofhis limbs,and a dull black pad of something that looked like hard rubberwas carefullyadjustedat thebackofhisneckandheld firmly inplacebyclamps that fittedover the shoulders. Finally, like two giantmandibles, the opposing electrodeswere parted and brought downward over the pale, pudgy head, so that eachpointedatatemple.Shekt kept his eyes firmly on the chronometer; in his other hand was the

switch. His thumb moved; nothing visible happened—not even to the fear-sharpenedsenseofthewatchingArbin.Afterwhatmighthavebeenhours,butwasactuallylessthanthreeminutes,Shekt’sthumbmovedagain.His assistant bent over the still-sleepingSchwartz hurriedly, then looked up

triumphantly.“He’salive.”Thereremainedyetseveralhours,duringwhicha libraryofrecordingswere

taken, to an undertone of almost wild excitement. It was well past midnightwhenthehypodermicwaspressedhomeandthesleeper’seyesfluttered.Shektsteppedback,bloodlessbuthappy.Hedabbedathisforeheadwiththe

backofahand.“It’sallright.”

HeturnedtoArbinfirmly.“Hemuststaywithusafewdays,sir.”ThelookofalarmgrewmadlyinArbin’seyes.“But—but—”“No,no,youmustrelyonme,”urgently.“Hewillbesafe;Iwillstakemylife

on it. I am staking my life on it. Leave him to us; no one will see him butourselves. Ifyou takehimwithyounow,hemaynot survive.Whatgoodwillthatdoyou?...Andifhedoesdie,youmayhavetoexplainthecorpsetotheAncients.”Itwasthelastthatdidthetrick.Arbinswallowedandsaid.“Butlook,howam

Itoknowwhentocomeandtakehim?Iwon’tgiveyoumyname!”Butitwassubmission.Shektsaid,“I’mnotaskingyouforyourname.Comea

weekfromtodayattenintheevening.I’llbewaitingforyouatthedoorofthegarage,theonewetookinyourbiwheelat.Youmustbelieveme,man;youhavenothingtofear.”ItwaseveningwhenArbinarrowedoutofChica.Twenty-fourhourshadpassed since the stranger had pounded at his door, and in that time he haddoubledhiscrimesagainsttheCustoms.Wouldheeverbesafeagain?Hecouldnothelpbutglanceoverhisshoulderashisbiwheelspedalongthe

emptyroad.Wouldtherebesomeonetofollow?Someonetotracehimhome?Orwashisfacealreadyrecorded?Werematchingsbeingleisurelymadesomewherein thedistant filesof theBrotherhoodatWashenn,where all livingEarthmen,togetherwiththeirvitalstatistics,werelisted,forpurposesoftheSixty?TheSixty,whichmustcometoallEarthmeneventually.Hehadyetaquarter

ofacenturybeforeitcametohim,yetheliveddailywithitonGrew’saccount,andnowonthestranger’saccount.WhatifheneverreturnedtoChica?No!HeandLoacouldnot longcontinueproducingfor three,andonce they

failed, their firstcrime, thatofconcealingGrew,wouldbediscovered.AndsocrimesagainsttheCustoms,oncebegun,mustbecompounded.Arbinknewthathewouldbeback,despiteanyrisk.

It was past midnight before Shekt thought of retiring, and then onlybecausethetroubledPolainsisted.Eventhenhedidnotsleep.Hispillowwasasubtle smothering device, his sheets a pair ofmaddening snarls.He arose andtookhisseatbythewindow.Thecitywasdarknow,butthereonthehorizon,onthesideoppositethelake,wasthefainttraceofthatblueglowofdeaththatheldswayoverallbutafewpatchesofEarth.Theactivitiesof thehecticday justpastdancedmadlybeforehismind.His

first action after having persuaded the frightened farmer to leave had been totelevisetheStateHouse.Enniusmusthavebeenwaitingforhim,forhehimselfhad answered. He was still encased in the heaviness of the lead-impregnatedclothing.“Ah,Shekt,goodevening.Yourexperimentisover?”“Andnearlymyvolunteeraswell,poorman.”Ennius looked ill. “I thoughtwellwhen I thought it better not to stay.You

scientistsarescarcelyremovedfrommurderers,itseemstome.”“Heisnotyetdead,Procurator,anditmaybethatwewillsavehim,but—”

Andheshruggedhisshoulders.“I’dsticktoratsexclusivelyhenceforward,Shekt. . . .Butyoudon’tlookat

allyourusualself,friend.Surelyyou,atleast,mustbehardenedtothis,evenifIamnot.”“Iamgettingold,myLord,”saidShektsimply.“AdangerouspastimeonEarth,”wasthedryreply.“Getyoutobed,Shekt.”AndsoShektsatthere,lookingoutatthedarkcityofadyingworld.FortwoyearsnowtheSynapsifierhadbeenundertest,andfortwoyearshe

hadbeentheslaveandsportoftheSocietyofAncients,ortheBrotherhood,astheycalledthemselves.He had seven or eight papers thatmight have been published in theSirian

Journal of Neurophysiology, that might have given that Galaxy-wide fame tohimthathesowanted.Thesepapersmolderedinhisdesk.Insteadtherewasthatobscure and deliberately misleading paper inPhysical Reviews. That was thewayoftheBrotherhood.Betterahalf-truththanalie.AndstillEnniuswasinquiring.Why?Diditfitinwithotherthingshehadlearned?WastheEmpiresuspectingwhat

hehimselfsuspected?Three times in two hundred years Earth had risen. Three times, under the

banner of a claimed ancient greatness,Earth had rebelled against the Imperialgarrisons. Three times they had failed—of course—and had not the Empirebeen, essentially, enlightened, and the Galactic Councils, by and large,statesmanlike,Earthwouldhavebeenbloodilyerasedfromtherollofinhabitedplanets.Butnow thingsmightbedifferent. . . .Orcould theybedifferent?Howfar

couldhetrustthewordsofadyingmadman,threequartersincoherent?Whatwastheuse?Inanycase,hedareddonothing.Hecouldonlywait.He

wasgettingold,and,asEnniushadsaid,thatwasadangerouspastimeonEarth.TheSixtywasalmostuponhim,andtherewerefewexceptionstoitsinevitablegrasp.

Andevenonthismiserable,burningmudballofEarth,hewantedtolive.He went to bed once more at that point, and just before falling asleep he

wonderedfeeblyifhiscall toEnniusmighthavebeentappedbytheAncients.HedidnotknowatthetimethattheAncientshadothersourcesofinformation.ItwasmorningbeforeShekt’syoungtechnicianhadcompletelymadeuphismind.He admired Shekt, but he knew well that the secret treatment of a non-

authorizedvolunteerwasagainst thedirectorderof theBrotherhood.And thatorderhadbeengiventhestatusofaCustom,whichmadedisobedienceacapitaloffense.He reasoned itout.After all,whowas thismanwhohadbeen treated?The

campaignforvolunteershadbeencarefullyworkedout.Itwasdesignedtogiveenough information about the Synapsifier to remove suspicion on the part ofpossible Imperial spies without giving any real encouragement to volunteers.TheSocietyofAncientssenttheirownmenfortreatment,andthatwasenough.Whohadsentthisman,then?TheSocietyofAncientsinsecret?Inorderto

testShekt’sreliability?OrwasShektatraitor?Hehadbeenclosetedwithsomeoneearlierintheday

—someone in bulky clothes, such as Outsiders wore in fear of radioactivepoisoning.IneithercaseShektmightgodownindoom,andwhyshouldhehimselfbe

dragged down aswell?Hewas a youngmanwith nearly four decades of lifebeforehim.WhyshouldheanticipatetheSixty?Besides,itwouldmeanpromotionforhim....AndShektwassoold,thenext

Censuswouldprobablygethimanyway,soitwouldinvolveverylittleharmforhim.Practicallynoneatall.The technicianhaddecided.Hishandreachedfor thecommunicator,andhe

punched the combination that would lead directly to the private room of theHighMinister of all Earth, who, under the Emperor and Procurator, held thepoweroflifeanddeathovereverymanonEarth.ItwaseveningagainbeforethemistyimpressionswithinSchwartz’sskullsharpened through thepinkpain.He remembered the trip to the low,huddlingstructuresbythelakeside,thelongcrouchingwaitintherearofthecar.Andthen—what?What?Hismindyankedawayatthesluggishthoughts....

Yes,theyhadcomeforhim.Therewasaroom,withinstrumentsanddials,andtwo pills. . . . Thatwas it. They had given him pills, and he had taken them

cheerfully.Whathadhetolose?Poisoningwouldhavebeenafavor.Andthen—nothing.Wait!Therehadbeenflashesofconsciousness. . .Peoplebendingoverhim

...Suddenlyherememberedthecoldmotionofastethoscopeoverhischest....Agirlhadbeenfeedinghim.Itflasheduponhimthathehadbeenoperateduponand,inpanic,heflungthe

bedsheetsfromhimandsatup.A girl was upon him, hands on his shoulders, forcing him back onto the

pillows.Shespokesoothingly,buthedidnotunderstandher.Hetensedhimselfagainsttheslimarms,butuselessly.Hehadnostrength.Heheldhishandsbeforehis face.Theyseemednormal.Hemovedhis legs

andheardthembrushagainstthesheets.Theycouldn’thavebeenamputated.Heturnedtothegirlandsaid,withoutmuchhope,“Canyouunderstandme?

DoyouknowwhereIam?”Hescarcelyrecognizedhisownvoice.The girl smiled and suddenly poured out a rapid patter of liquid sound.

Schwartzgroaned.Thenanoldermanentered, theonewhohadgivenhimthepills.Themanandthegirlspoketogether,thegirlturningtohimafterawhile,pointingtohislipsandmakinglittlegesturesofinvitationtohim.“What?”hesaid.She nodded eagerly, her pretty face glowing with pleasure, until, despite

himself,Schwartzfeltgladtolookatit.“Youwantmetotalk?”heasked.Themansatdownuponhisbedandmotionedhimtoopenhismouth.Hesaid,

“Ah-h-h,” and Schwartz repeated “Ah-h-h”while theman’s fingersmassagedSchwartz’sAdam’sapple.“What’s the matter?” said Schwartz peevishly, when the pressure was

removed.“AreyousurprisedIcantalk?WhatdoyouthinkIam?”Thedayspassed,andSchwartzlearnedafewthings.ThemanwasDr.Shekt—the firsthumanbeingheknewbynamesincehehadsteppedover therag doll. The girl was his daughter, Pola. Schwartz found that he no longerneededtoshave.Thehaironhisfacenevergrew.Itfrightenedhim.Diditevergrow?His strength came back quickly. They were letting him put on clothes and

walkaboutnow,andwerefeedinghimsomethingmorethanmush.Washis troubleamnesia, then?Weretheytreatinghimfor that?Wasall this

worldnormalandnatural,whiletheworldhethoughtherememberedwasonlythefantasyofanamnesicbrain?

Andtheyneverlethimstepoutoftheroom,notevenintothecorridor.Washeaprisoner,then?Hadhecommittedacrime?Therenevercanbeamansolostasonewhoislostinthevastandintricate

corridors of his own lonelymind,where nonemay reach and nonemay save.Thereneverwasamansohelplessasonewhocannotremember.Polaamusedherselfbyteachinghimwords.Hewasnotatallamazedatthe

easewithwhich he picked themup and remembered.He remembered that hehadhada trickmemory in thepast; thatmemory,at least,seemedaccurate. Intwodayshecouldunderstandsimplesentences.Inthreehecouldmakehimselfunderstood.Onthethirdday,however,hedidbecomeamazed.Shekttaughthimnumbers

andsethimproblems.Schwartzwouldgiveanswers,andShektwouldlookatatiming device and record with rapid strokes of his stylus. But then Shektexplainedtheterm“logarithm”tohimandaskedforthelogarithmoftwo.Schwartzpickedhiswordscarefully.Hisvocabularywasstillminuteandhe

reinforceditwithgestures.“I—not—say.Answer—not—number.”Shektnoddedhisheadexcitedlyandsaid,“Notnumber.Notthis,notthat;part

this,partthat.”Schwartz understoodquitewell thatShekt had confirmedhis statement that

the answer was not an even number but a fraction and therefore said, “Pointthreezeroonezerothree—and—more—numbers.”“Enough!”Thencametheamazement.Howhadheknowntheanswertothat?Schwartz

was certain that he had never heard of logarithms before, yet in hismind theanswerhadcomeassoonasthequestionwasput.Hehadnoideaoftheprocessbywhichithadbeencalculated.Itwasasifhismindwereanindependententity,usinghimonlyasitsmouthpiece.Orhadheoncebeenamathematician,inthedaysbeforehisamnesia?Hefounditexceedinglydifficulttowaitthedaysout.Increasinglyhefelthe

mustventureoutintotheworldandforceananswerfromitsomehow.Hecouldneverlearnintheprisonofthisroom,where(thethoughtsuddenlycametohim)hewasbutamedicalspecimen.The chance came on the sixth day. They were beginning to trust him too

much,andonetimewhenShektlefthedidnotlockthedoor.Whereusuallythedoor so neatly closed itself that the very crack of its joining thewall becameinvisible,thistimeaquarterinchofspaceshowed.He waited to make sure Shekt was not returning on the instant, and then

slowlyputhishandoverthelittlegleaminglightashehadseenthemoftendo.Smoothlyandsilentlythedoorslidopen....Thecorridorwasempty.

AndsoSchwartz“escaped.”HowwashetoknowthatforthesixdaysofhisresidencetheretheSocietyof

Ancientshaditsagentswatchingthehospital,hisroom,himself?

6

ApprehensionintheNight

The Procurator’s palace was scarcely less a fairyland at night. Theevening flowers (none native to Earth) opened their fat white blossoms infestoons that extended their delicate fragrance to the verywalls of the palace.Under the polarized light of the moon, the artificial silicate strands wovencleverlyintothestainlessaluminumalloyofthepalacestructuresparkedafaintvioletagainstthemetallicsheenoftheirsurroundings.Enniuslookedatthestars.Theyweretherealbeautytohim,sincetheywere

theEmpire.Earth’sskywasofanintermediatetype.Ithadnottheunbearablegloryofthe

skies of the Central Worlds, where star elbowed star in such blindingcompetition that theblackofnightwasnearly lost inacoruscantexplosionoflight.NordiditpossessthelonelygrandeuroftheskiesofthePeriphery,wherethe unrelieved blackness was broken at great intervals by the dimness of anorphaned star—with themilky lens shape of the Galaxy spreading across thesky,theindividualstarsthereoflostindiamonddust.OnEarthtwothousandstarswerevisibleatonetime.EnniuscouldseeSirius,

roundwhichcircledoneofthetenmostpopulousplanetsoftheEmpire.TherewasArcturus,capitalofthesectorofhisbirth.ThesunofTrantor,theEmpire’scapitalworld,waslostsomewhereintheMilkyWay.Evenunderatelescopeitwasjustpartofageneralblaze.Hefeltasofthandonhisshoulder,andhisownwentuptomeetit.

“Flora?”hewhispered.“Ithadbetterbe,”camehiswife’shalf-amusedvoice.“Doyouknowthatyou

haven’t slept since you returned from Chica? Do you know further that it isalmostdawn?...ShallIhavebreakfastsentouthere?”“Whynot?”Hesmiledfondlyupatherandfeltinthedarknessforthebrown

ringletthathoverednexthercheek.Hetuggedatit.“AndmustyouwaitupwithmeandshadowthemostbeautifuleyesintheGalaxy?”Shefreedherhairandrepliedgently,“Youaretryingtoshadowthemyourself

withyoursugarsyrup,butI’veseenyouthiswaybeforeandamnotinthetiniesthoodwinked.Whatworriesyoutonight,dear?”“Why, thatwhichalwaysworriesme.ThatIhaveburiedyouhereuselessly,

whenthere’snotaviceregalsocietyintheGalaxyyoucouldnotgrace.”“Besidesthat!Come,Ennius,Iwillnotbeplayedwith.”Ennius shook his head in the shadows and said, “I don’t know. I think an

accumulationoflittlepuzzlingthingshasfinallysickenedme.There’sthematterofShektandhisSynapsifier.And there’s thisarchaeologist,Arvardan,andhistheories.Andotherthings,otherthings.Oh,what’stheuse,Flora—I’mdoingnogoodhereatall.”“Surely this time of the morning isn’t quite the moment for putting your

moraletothetest.”But Ennius was speaking through clenched teeth. “These Earthmen! Why

shouldsofewbesuchaburdentotheEmpire?Doyouremember,Flora,whenIwasfirstappointedtotheProcuracy,thewarningsIreceivedfromoldFaroul,thelast Procurator, as to the difficulties of the position? . . . He was right. Ifanything,hedidnotgofarenoughinhiswarnings.YetIlaughedathimatthetime and privately thought him the victim of his own senile incapacity. Iwasyoung, active, daring. Iwoulddobetter . . .”Hepaused, lost in himself, thencontinued,apparentlyatadisconnectedpoint.“YetsomanyindependentpiecesofevidenceseemtoshowthattheseEarthmenareonceagainbeingmisledintodreamsofrebellion.”Helookedupathiswife.“DoyouknowthatitisthedoctrineoftheSociety

ofAncientsthatEarthwasatonetimethesolehomeofHumanity,thatitistheappointedcenteroftherace,thetruerepresentationofMan?”“Why,soArvardantoldustwoeveningsago,didn’the?”Itwasalwaysbestat

thesetimestolethimtalkhimselfout.“Yes, so he did,” said Ennius gloomily, “but even so, he spoke only of the

past. The Society ofAncients speaks of the future aswell. Earth, oncemore,they say, will be the center of the race. They even claim that this mythicalSecond Kingdom of Earth is at hand; they warn that the Empire will be

destroyed in a general catastrophewhichwill leaveEarth triumphant in all itspristine glory”—and his voice shook—“as a backward, barbarous, soil-sickworld. Three times before, this same nonsense has raised rebellion, and thedestructionbroughtdownuponEarthhasneverservedintheleasttoshaketheirstupidfaith.”“Theyarebutpoorcreatures,”saidFlora,“thesemenofEarth.Whatshould

theyhave,ifnottheirFaith?Theyarecertainlyrobbedofeverythingelse—ofadecentworld,ofadecentlife.Theyareevenrobbedofthedignityofacceptanceonabasisofequalityby therestof theGalaxy.So theyretire to theirdreams.Canyoublamethem?”“Yes,Icanblamethem,”criedEnniuswithenergy.“Letthemturnfromtheir

dreams and fight for assimilation. They don’t deny they are different. Theysimplywish to replace‘worse’by‘better,’andyoucan’texpect therestof theGalaxyto let themdothat.Let themabandontheircliquishness, theiroutdatedandoffensive‘Customs.’Letthembemen,andtheywillbeconsideredmen.LetthembeEarthmenandtheywillbeconsideredonlyassuch.“But never mind that. For instance, what’s going on with the Synapsifier?

Now there’s a little thing that is keeping me from sleep.” Ennius frownedthoughtfullyatthedullnesswhichwasovercomingthepolisheddarknessoftheeasternsky.“TheSynapsifier?...Why,isn’tthattheinstrumentDr.Arvardanspokeofat

dinner?DidyougotoChicatoseeaboutthat?”Enniusnodded.“Andwhatdidyoufindoutthere?”“Whynothingatall,”saidEnnius.“IknowShekt.Iknowhimwell.Icantell

whenhe’satease;Icantellwhenheisn’t.Itellyou,Flora,thatmanwasdyingofapprehensionall the timehewasspeaking tome.AndwhenI lefthebrokeintoasweatofthankfulness.Itisanunhappymystery,Flora.”“Butwillthemachinework?”“AmIaneurophysicist?Shektsaysitwillnot.Hecalledmeuptotellmethat

avolunteerwasnearlykilledbyit.ButIdon’tbelievethat.Hewasexcited!Hewas more than that. He was triumphant! His volunteer had lived and theexperimenthadbeensuccessful,orI’veneverseenahappymaninmylife....Now why do you suppose he lied to me, then? Do you suppose that theSynapsifier is in operation?Do you suppose that it can be creating a race ofgeniuses?”“Butthenwhykeepitsecret?”“Ah!Why? It isn’t obvious to you?Why hasEarth failed in its rebellions?

There are fairly tremendous odds against it, aren’t there? Increase the average

intelligenceoftheEarthman.Doubleit.Tripleit.Andwheremayyouroddsbethen?”“Oh,Ennius.”“We may be in the position of apes attacking human beings. What price

numericalodds?”“You’rereallyjumpingatshadows.Theycouldn’thideathinglikethat.You

canalwayshavetheBureauofOuterProvincessendinafewpsychologistsandkeep testing random samples of Earthmen. Surely any abnormal rise in I.Q.couldbedetectedinstantly.”“Yes.Isupposeso....Butthatmaynotbeit.I’mnotsureofanything,Flora,

exceptthatarebellionisinthecards.SomethingliketheUprisingof750,exceptthatitwillprobablybeworse.”“Arewepreparedforit?Imean,ifyou’resocertain—”“Prepared?”Ennius’slaughterwasabark.“Iam.Thegarrisonisinreadiness

andfullysupplied.Whatevercanpossiblybedonewith thematerialathand, Ihave done. But, Flora, I don’t want to have a rebellion. I don’t want myProcuracytogodowninhistoryastheProcuracyoftheRebellion.Idon’twantmynamelinkedwithdeathandslaughter.I’llbedecoratedforit,butacenturyfromnowthehistorybookswillcallmeabloodytyrant.WhatabouttheViceroyofSantanniinthesixthcentury?Couldhehavedoneotherthanhedid,thoughmillionsdied?Hewashonoredthen,butwhohasagoodwordforhimnow?Iwould rather be known as the man who prevented a rebellion and saved theworthlesslivesoftwentymillionfools.”Hesoundedquitehopelessaboutit.“Areyousosureyoucan’t,Ennius—evenyet?”Shesatdownbesidehimand

brushedherfingertipsalongthelineofhisjaw.Hecaughtthemandheldthemtightly.“HowcanI?Everythingworksagainst

me.TheBureauitselfrushesintothestruggleonthesideofthefanaticsofEarthbysendingthisArvardanhere.”“But,dear, Idon’t see that this archaeologistwilldoanything soawful. I’ll

admithesoundslikeafaddist,butwhatharmcanhedo?”“Why,isn’titplain?HewantstobeallowedtoprovethatEarthistheoriginal

home of Humanity. He wants to bring scientific authority to the aid ofsubversion.”“Thenstophim.”“Ican’t.Thereyouhaveit,frankly.There’sa theoryaboutthatviceroyscan

doanything,butthatjustisn’tso.Thatman,Arvardan,hasawritofpermissionfrom the Bureau of Outer Provinces. It is approved by the Emperor. Thatsupersedesmecompletely. Icoulddonothingwithoutappealing to theCentralCouncil,and thatwould takemonths. . . .Andwhat reasonscould Igive? If I

triedtostophimbyforce,ontheotherhand,itwouldbeanactofrebellion;andyouknowhowreadytheCentralCouncilistoremoveanyexecutivetheythinkisoversteppingtheline,eversincetheCivilWaroftheeighties.Andthenwhat?I’dbereplacedbysomeonewhowouldn’tbeawareof thesituationatall,andArvardanwouldgoaheadanyway.“Andthatstillisn’ttheworst,Flora.Doyouknowhowheintendstoprovethe

antiquityofEarth?Supposeyouguess.”Floralaughedgently.“You’remakingfunofme,Ennius.HowshouldIguess?

I’mnoarchaeologist.Isupposehe’lltrytodigupoldstatuesorbonesanddatethembytheirradioactivityorsomethinglikethat.”“Iwishitwerelikethat.WhatArvardanintendstodo,hetoldmeyesterday,is

toentertheradioactiveareasonEarth.Heintendstofindhumanartifactsthere,showthat theyexist froma timeprevious to thatatwhichEarth’ssoilbecameradioactive—sincehe insists theradioactivity isman-made—anddate it in thatfashion.”“Butthat’salmostwhatIsaid.”“Do you know what it means to enter the radioactive areas? They’re

Forbidden.It’soneof thestrongestCustomstheseEarthmenhave.NoonecanentertheForbiddenAreas,andallradioactiveareasareForbidden.”“But then that’s good. Arvardan will be stopped by the men of Earth

themselves.”“Oh,fine.He’llbestoppedbytheHighMinister!Andthenhowwillweever

convince him that all this was not a Government-sponsored project, that theEmpireisnotconnivingatdeliberatesacrilege?”“TheHighMinistercan’tbethattouchy.”“Can’the?”Enniusrearedbackandstaredathiswife.Thenighthadlightened

toaslatinessinwhichshewasjustvisible.“Youhavethemosttouchingnaïveté.Hecertainlycanbe that touchy.Doyouknowwhathappened—oh,aboutfiftyyearsago?I’lltellyou,andthenyoucanjudgeforyourself.“Earth, itsohappens,willallownooutwardsignofImperialdominationon

their world because of their insistence that Earth is the rightful ruler of theGalaxy.But it sohappened thatyoungStannell II—theboyemperorwhowassomewhat insane andwhowas removed by assassination after a reign of twoyears; you remember!—ordered that the Emperor’s insignia be raised in theirCouncil Chamber at Washenn. In itself the order was reasonable, since theinsignia is present in every planetary Council Chamber in the Galaxy as asymbol of the Imperial unity. But what happened in this case? The day theinsigniawasraised,thetownbecameamassofriots.“ThelunaticsofWashenntoredowntheinsigniaandtookuparmsagainstthe

garrison.StannellIIwassufficientlymadtodemandthathisorderbecompliedwithif itmeanttheslaughterofeveryEarthmanalive,buthewasassassinatedbefore that could be put into effect, and Edard, his successor, canceled theoriginalorder.Allwaspeaceagain.”“You mean,” said Flora incredulously, “that the Imperial insignia was not

replaced?”“Imean thatexactly.By theStars,Earth is theonlyoneof themillionsand

millionsof planets in theEmpire that hasno insignia in itsCouncilChamber.Thismiserableplanetweareonnow.And ifeven todaywewere to tryagain,theywouldfighttothelastmantopreventus.Andyouaskmeifthey’retouchy.Itellyouthey’remad.”There was silence in the slowly graying light of dawn, until Flora’s voice

soundedagain,littleandunsureofitself.“Ennius?”“Yes.”“You’renotjustconcernedabouttherebellionthatyou’reexpectingbecause

of itseffectonyour reputation. Iwouldn’tbeyourwife if Icouldn’thalf readyourthoughts,anditseemstomethatyouexpectsomethingactuallydangeroustotheEmpire....Youshouldn’thideanythingfromme,Ennius.You’reafraidtheseEarthmenwillwin.”“Flora, I can’t talk about it.” Therewas something tortured in his eyes. “It

isn’tevenahunch....Maybefouryearsonthisworldistoolongforanysaneman.ButwhyaretheseEarthmensoconfident?”“Howdoyouknowtheyare?”“Oh, theyare. Ihavemy sourcesof information too.Afterall, they’vebeen

crushed three times.Theycan’t have illusions left.Yet they face two hundredmillionworlds,eachonesinglystrongerthanthey,andtheyareconfident.CantheyreallybesofirmintheirfaithinsomeDestinyorsomesupernaturalForce—somethingthathasmeaningonlytothem?Maybe—maybe—maybe—”“Maybewhat,Ennius?”“Maybetheyhavetheirweapons.”“Weaponsthatwillallowoneworldtodefeattwohundredmillions?Youare

panicky.Noweaponcoulddothat.”“IhavealreadymentionedtheSynapsifier.”“AndIhavetoldyouhowtotakecareofthat.Doyouknowofanyothertype

ofweapontheycoulduse?”Reluctantly,“No.”“Exactly.Thereisn’tanysuchweaponpossible.NowI’lltellyouwhattodo,

dear.Whydon’tyougetintouchwiththeHighMinisterand,inearnestofyour

good faith, warn him of Arvardan’s plans? Urge, unofficially, that he not begranted permission. This will remove any suspicion—or should—that theImperialGovernmenthasanyhandinthissillyviolationoftheircustoms.AtthesametimeyouwillhavestoppedArvardanwithouthavingappearedinthemessyourself.ThenhavetheBureausendouttwogoodpsychologists—or,better,askfor four, so they’ll be sure to send at least two—and have them check on theSynapsifier possibility. . . . And anything else can be taken care of by oursoldiers,whileweallowposteritytotakecareofitself.“Nowwhydon’tyousleeprighthere?Wecanputthechairbackdown,you

can usemy fur piece as a blanket, and I’ll have a breakfast traywheeled outwhenyouawake.Thingswillseemdifferentinthesun.”And so it was that Ennius, after waking the night through, fell asleep five

minutesbeforesunrise.Thus it was eight hours later that the High Minister first learned of Bel

ArvardanandhismissionfromtheProcuratorhimself.

7

ConversationwithMadmen?

AsforArvardan,hewasconcernedonlywithmakingholiday.Hisship,theOphiuchus,wasnot tobeexpectedforat leastamonth, thereforehehadamonthtospendaslavishlyashemightwish.Soitwas thatonthesixthdayafterhisarrivalatEverest,BelArvardanleft

hishostandtookpassageontheTerrestrialAirTransportCompany’slargestjetStratospheric,travelingbetweenEverestandtheTerrestrialcapital,Washenn.If he took a commercial liner, rather than the speedy cruiser placed at his

servicebyEnnius,itwasdonedeliberately,outofthereasonablecuriosityofastrangerandanarchaeologisttowardtheordinarylifeofmeninhabitingsuchaplanetasEarth.Andforanotherreasontoo.ArvardanwasfromtheSirianSector,notoriouslythesectoraboveallothersin

theGalaxywhereanti-Terrestrianprejudicewasstrong.Yethehadalwayslikedto think he had not succumbed to that prejudice himself.As a scientist, as anarchaeologist, he couldn’t afford to.Of course he had grown into the habit ofthinking of Earthmen in certain set caricature types, and even now the word“Earthman”seemedanuglyonetohim.Buthewasn’treallyprejudiced.Atleasthedidn’tthinkso.Forinstance,ifanEarthmaneverwishedtojoinan

expeditionofhisorworkforhiminanycapacity—andhadthetrainingandtheability—hewouldbeaccepted.Iftherewereanopeningforhim,thatwas.Andiftheothermembersoftheexpeditiondidn’tmindtoomuch.Thatwastherub.

Usuallythefellowworkersobjected,andthenwhatcouldyoudo?Heponderedthematter.Nowcertainlyhewouldhavenoobjectiontoeating

with an Earthman, or even bunking with one in case of need—assuming theEarthmanwerereasonablyclean,andhealthy.Infact,hewouldinallwaystreathimashewouldtreatanyoneelse,hethought.Yettherewasnodenyingthathewouldalwaysbeconsciousof the fact thatanEarthmanwasanEarthman.Hecouldn’thelpthat.Thatwastheresultofachildhoodimmersedinanatmosphereofbigotrysocompletethatitwasalmostinvisible,soentirethatyouaccepteditsaxiomsassecondnature.Thenyouleft itandsawitforwhatitwaswhenyoulookedback.Butherewashischancetotesthimself.HewasinaplanewithonlyEarthmen

abouthim,andhefeltperfectlynatural,almost.Well,justalittleself-conscious.Arvardanlookedaboutattheundistinguishedandnormalfacesofhisfellow

passengers.Theywere supposed to be different, theseEarthmen, but could hehavetoldthesefromordinarymenifhehadmetthemcasuallyinacrowd?Hedidn’tthinkso.Thewomenweren’tbad-looking...Hisbrowsknit.Ofcourseeven tolerancemustdraw the linesomewhere. Intermarriage, for instance,wasquiteunthinkable.Theplane itselfwas, inhis eyes, a small affairof imperfect construction. It

was,ofcourse,atomic-powered,buttheapplicationoftheprinciplewasfarfromefficient.Foronething,thepowerunitwasnotwellshielded.ThenitoccurredtoArvardanthatthepresenceofstraygammaraysandahighneutrondensityintheatmosphere might well strike Earthmen as less important than it might strikeothers.Then the view caught his eyes. From the dark wine-purple of the extreme

stratosphere,Earthpresenteda fabulousappearance.Beneathhim thevast andmistedlandareasinsight(obscuredhereandtherebythepatchesofsun-brightclouds)showedadesertorange.Behindthem,slowlyrecedingfromthefleeingstratoliner,was the soft and fuzzy night line,withinwhose dark shadow therewasthesparkingoftheradioactiveareas.Hisattentionwasdrawnfromthewindowbythelaughteramongtheothers.It

seemedtocenteraboutanelderlycouple,comfortablystoutandallsmiles.Arvardannudgedhisneighbor.“What’sgoingon?”Hisneighborpaused to say, “They’vebeenmarried fortyyears, and they’re

makingtheGrandTour.”“TheGrandTour?”“Youknow.AllaroundtheEarth.”Theelderlyman,flushedwithpleasure,wasrecountinginvolublefashionhis

experiences and impressions. His wife joined in periodically, with meticulous

corrections involving completely unimportant points; these being given andtaken in the best of humor. To all this the audience listenedwith the greatestattention,sothattoArvardanitseemedthatEarthmenwereaswarmandhumanasanypeopleintheGalaxy.And then someone asked, “And when is it that you’re scheduled for the

Sixty?”“Inaboutamonth,”cametheready,cheerfulanswer.“SixteenthNovember.”“Well,” said the questioner, “I hope you have a nice day for it.My father

reachedhisSixtyinadamnedpouringrain.I’veneverseenonelikeitsince.Iwasgoingwithhim—youknow,afellowlikescompanyonadaylikethat—andhecomplainedabout the rainevery stepof theway.Wehadanopenbiwheel,yousee,andwegotsoaked. ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘whatareyoucomplainingabout,Dad?I’vegottocomeback.’”Therewasageneralhowloflaughterwhichtheanniversarycouplewerenot

backwardinjoining.Arvardan,however,feltplungedinhorrorasadistinctanduncomfortablesuspicionenteredhismind.Hesaidtothemansharinghisseat,“ThisSixty,thissubjectofconversation

here—Itakeitthey’rereferringtoeuthanasia.Imean,you’reputoutofthewaywhenyoureachyoursixtiethbirthday,aren’tyou?”Arvardan’svoice faded somewhat ashisneighbor chokedoff the lastofhis

chucklestoturninhisseatandfavorthequestionerwithalongandsuspiciousstare.Finallyhesaid,“Well,whatdoyouthinkhemeant?”Arvardanmadeanindefinitegesturewithhishandandsmiledratherfoolishly.

He had known of the custom, but only academically. Something in a book.Somethingdiscussedinascientificpaper.Butitwasnowborneinuponhimthatit actually applied to living beings, that themen andwomen surrounding himcould,bycustom,liveonlytosixty.Theman next to himwas still staring. “Hey, fella,where you from?Don’t

theyknowabouttheSixtyinyourhometown?”“We call it the ‘Time,’ ” said Arvardan feebly. “I’m from back there.” He

jerkedhisthumbhardoverhisshoulder,andafteranadditionalquarterminutetheotherwithdrewthathard,questioningstare.Arvardan’s lips quirked. These people were suspicious. That facet of the

caricature,atleast,wasauthentic.Theelderlymanwastalkingagain.“She’scomingwithme,”hesaid,nodding

toward his genial wife. “She’s not due for about three months after that, butthere’s no point in herwaiting, she thinks, andwemight aswell go together.Isn’tthatit,Chubby?”“Ohyes,”shesaid,andgiggledrosily.“Ourchildrenareallmarriedandhave

homesof theirown.I’d justbeabother to them.Besides, Icouldn’tenjoy thetimeanywaywithouttheoldfellow—sowe’lljustleaveofftogether.”Whereupon the entire list of passengers seemed to engage themselves in a

simultaneousarithmeticalcalculationof the timeremainingtoeach—aprocessinvolving conversion factors from months to days that occasioned severaldisputesamongthemarriedcouplesinvolved.Onesmallfellowwithtightclothesandadeterminedexpressionsaidfiercely,

“I’vegotexactly twelveyears, threemonths,and fourdays left.Twelveyears,threemonths,andfourdays.Notadaymore,notadayless.”Which someone qualified by saying, reasonably, “Unless you die first, of

course.”“Nonsense,”wastheimmediatereply.“Ihavenointentionofdyingfirst.DoI

look like the sort ofmanwhowould die first? I’m living twelve years, threemonths,andfourdays,andthere’snotamanherewiththehardihoodtodenyit.”Andhelookedveryfierceindeed.Aslimyoungmantookalong,dandyishcigarettefrombetweenhislipstosay

darkly,“It’swellforthemthatcancalculateitouttoaday.There’smanyamanlivingpasthistime.”“Ah,surely,”saidanother,andtherewasageneralnodandaratherinchoate

airofindignationarose.“Not,” continued the young man, interspersing his cigarette puffs with a

complicatedflourish intendedtoremovetheash,“that Iseeanyobjection toaman—orwoman—wishingtocontinueonpasttheirbirthdaytothenextCouncilday, particularly if they have somebusiness to clean up. It’s these sneaks andparasites that try to go past to the next Census, eating the food of the nextgeneration—”Heseemedtohaveapersonalgrievancethere.Arvardaninterposedgently,“Butaren’ttheagesofeveryoneregistered?They

can’tverywellpasstheirbirthdaytoofar,canthey?”A general silence followed, admixtured not a little with contempt at the

foolish idealism expressed. Someone said at last, in diplomatic fashion, asthoughattempting toconclude thesubject,“Well, there isn’tmuchpoint livingpasttheSixty,Isuppose.”“Not if you’re a farmer,” shot back another vigorously. “After you’ve been

workinginthefieldsforhalfacentury,you’dbecrazynottobegladtocallitoff.Howabouttheadministrators,though,andthebusinessmen?”Finally the elderlyman,whose fortiethwedding anniversary had begun the

conversation,venturedhisownopinion,emboldenedperhapsbythefactthat,asacurrentvictimoftheSixty,hehadnothingtolose.“Astothat,”hesaid,“itdependsonwhoyouknow.”Andhewinkedwitha

slyinnuendo.“Iknewamanoncewhowassixtytheyearafterthe810Censusand lived till the820Censuscaughthim.Hewassixty-ninebeforehe leftoff.Sixty-nine!Thinkofthat!”“Howdidhemanagethat?”“Hehada littlemoney,andhisbrotherwasoneof theSocietyofAncients.

There’snothingyoucan’tdoifyou’vegotthatcombination.”Therewasgeneralapprovalofthatsentiment.“Listen,”saidtheyoungmanwiththecigaretteemphatically,“Ihadanuncle

who livedayearpast—just ayear.Hewas justoneof these selfishguyswhodon’tfeellikegoing,youknow.Alothecaredfortherestofus....AndIdidn’tknowaboutit,yousee,orIwouldhavereportedhim,believeme,becauseaguyshouldgowhenit’shistime.It’sonlyfairtothenextgeneration.Anyway,hegotcaughtallright,andthefirstthingIknew,theBrotherhoodcallsonmeandmybrotherandwantstoknowhowcomewedidn’treporthim.Isaid,hell,Ididn’tknowanythingaboutit;nobodyinmyfamilyknewanythingaboutit.Isaidwehadn’tseenhimintenyears.Myoldmanbackedusup.Butwegotfinedfivehundredcreditsjustthesame.That’swhenyoudon’thaveanypull.”The look of discomposure on Arvardan’s face was growing. Were these

people madmen to accept death so—to resent their friends and relatives whotried to escapedeath?Couldhe,byaccident,beona shipcarryinga cargooflunaticstoasylum—oreuthanasia?OrwerethesesimplyEarthmen?Hisneighborwasscowlingathimagain,andhisvoicebrokeinonArvardan’s

thoughts.“Heyfella,where’s‘backthere’?”“Pardonme?”“I said—where are you from? You said ‘back there.’What’s ‘back there’?

Hey?”Arvardanfoundtheeyesofalluponhimnow,eachwithitsownsuddenspark

ofsuspicion in it.Did they thinkhimamemberof thisSocietyofAncientsoftheirs?Hadhisquestioningseemedthecajoleryofanagentprovocateur?Sohemetthatbysaying,inaburstoffrankness,“I’mnotfromanywhereon

Earth. I’mBelArvardanfromBaronn,SiriusSector.What’syourname?”Andheheldouthishand.Hemightaswellhavedroppedanatomicexplosivecapsuleintothemiddleof

theplane.Thefirstsilenthorroroneveryfaceturnedrapidlyintoangry,bitterhostility

that flamedathim.Themanwhohadsharedhis seat rosestifflyandcrowdedinto another, where the pair of occupants squeezed closely together to makeroomforhim.Facesturnedaway.Shoulderssurroundedhim,hemmedhimin.Foramoment

Arvardanburnedwithindignation.Earthmentotreathimso.Earthmen!Hehadheldoutthehandoffriendshiptothem.He,aSirian,hadcondescendedtotreatwiththemandtheyhadrebuffedhim.Andthen,withaneffort,herelaxed.Itwasobviousthatbigotrywasnevera

one-wayoperation,thathatredbredhatred!He was conscious of a presence beside him, and he turned toward it

resentfully.“Yes?”Itwas the youngmanwith the cigarette.Hewas lighting a new one as he

spoke.“Hello,”hesaid.“Myname’sCreen....Don’tletthosejerksgetyou.”“Noone’sgettingme,”saidArvardanshortly.Hewasnottoopleasedwiththe

company,norwasheinthemoodforpatronizingadvicefromanEarthman.ButCreenwasnot trained to thedetectionof themoredelicatenuances.He

puffedhiscigarettetolifeinman-sizeddragsandtappeditsashesoverthearmoftheseatintothemiddleaisle.“Provincials!” he whispered with contempt. “Just a bunch of farmers. . . .

TheylacktheGalacticview.Don’tbotherwiththem....Nowyoutakeme.Igotadifferentphilosophy.Liveandletlive,Isay.IgotnothingagainstOutsiders.Iftheywant to be friendlywithme, I’ll be friendlywith them.What the hell—Theycan’thelpbeinganOutsiderjustlikeIcan’thelpbeinganEarthman.Don’tyouthinkI’mright?”AndhetappedArvardanfamiliarlyonthewrist.Arvardan nodded and felt a crawling sensation at the other’s touch. Social

contactwith amanwho felt resentful over losing a chance to bring about hisuncle’sdeathwasnotpleasant,quiteregardlessofplanetaryorigin.Creen leanedback.“Heading forChica?Whatdidyousayyournamewas?

Albadan?”“Arvardan.Yes,I’mgoingtoChica.”“That’smyhometown.BestdamnedcityonEarth.Goingtostaytherelong?”“Maybe.Ihaven’tmadeanyplans.”“Umm....Say,Ihopeyoudon’tobjecttomysayingthatI’vebeennoticing

yourshirt.MindifItakeacloselook?MadeinSirius,huh?”“Yes,itis.”“It’sverygoodmaterial.Can’tgetanythinglikethatonEarth.. . .Say,bud,

youwouldn’thaveaspareshirtlikethatinyourluggage,wouldyou?I’dpayforitifyouwantedtosellit.It’sasnappynumber.”Arvardan shook his head emphatically. “Sorry, but I don’t havemuch of a

wardrobe.IamplanningtobuyclotheshereonEarthasIgoalong.”“I’llpayyoufiftycredits,”saidCreen....Silence.Headded,withatouchof

resentment,“That’sagoodprice.”“Averygoodprice,” saidArvardan, “but, as I told you, I haveno shirts to

sell.”“Well . . .” Creen shrugged. “Expect to stay on Earth quite a while, I

suppose?”“Maybe.”“What’syourlineofbusiness?”Thearchaeologistallowedirritationtorisetothesurface.“Look,Mr.Creen,if

youdon’tmind, I’ma little tiredandwould like to takeanap. Is thatall rightwithyou?”Creen frowned. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t your kind believe in

beingciviltopeople?I’mjustaskingyouapolitequestion;noneedtobitemyearoff.”Theconversation,hithertoconductedinalowvoice,hadsuddenlyamplified

itself into a near shout. Hostile expressions turned Arvardan’s way, and thearchaeologist’slipscompressedthemselvesintoathinline.Hehadasked for it, hedecidedbitterly.Hewouldnothavegotten into this

mess ifhehadheldalooffromthebeginning, ifhehadn’tfelt thenecessityofvauntinghisdamnedtoleranceandforcingitonpeoplewhodidn’twantit.Hesaid levelly,“Mr.Creen, Ididn’taskyou to joinme,andIhaven’tbeen

uncivil.Irepeat,Iamtiredandwouldliketorest.Ithinkthere’snothingunusualinthat.”“Listen”—theyoungmanrosefromhisseat,threwhiscigaretteawaywitha

violentgesture,andpointedafinger—“youdon’thavetotreatmelikeI’madogor something. You stinking Outsiders come here with your fine talk andstandoffishnessand think itgivesyou the right to stampalloverus.Wedon’thave to stand for it, see. Ifyoudon’t like ithere,youcangobackwhereyoucamefrom,anditwon’ttakemuchmoreofyourliptomakemelightintoyou,either.YouthinkI’mafraidofyou?”Arvardanturnedhisheadawayandstaredstonilyoutthewindow.Creen said no more, but took his original seat once again. There was an

excitedbuzzofconversationroundandabouttheplanewhichArvardanignored.Hefelt,ratherthansaw,thesharpenedandenvenomedglancesbeingcastathim.Until,gradually,itpassed,asallthingsdid.Hecompletedthejourney,silentandalone.

The landing at the Chica airport was welcome. Arvardan smiled tohimself at the first sight from the air of the “best damned city onEarth,” butfound it, nevertheless, an immense improvement over the thick, unfriendlyatmosphereoftheplane.

He supervised the unloading of his luggage and had it transferred into abiwheelcab.Atleasthewouldbetheonlypassengerhere,sothatifhetookcarenottospeakunnecessarilytothedriver,hecouldscarcelygetintotrouble.“StateHouse,”hetoldthecabby,andtheywereoff.ArvardanthusenteredChicaforthefirsttime,andhedidsoonthedaythat

JosephSchwartzescapedfromhisroomattheInstituteforNuclearResearch.CreenwatchedArvardanleavewithabitterhalf-smile.Hetookouthislittlebookandstudieditcloselybetweenpuffsathiscigarette.Hehadn’tgottenmuchoutofthepassengers,despitehisstoryabouthisuncle(whichhehadusedoftenbeforetogoodeffect).Tobesure,theoldguyhadcomplainedaboutamanlivingpasthistimeandhadblamediton“pull”withtheAncients.ThatwouldcomeundertheheadingofslanderagainsttheBrotherhood.ButthenthegeezerwasheadingfortheSixtyinamonth,anyway.Nouseputtinghisnamedown.But thisOutsider, thatwasdifferent.Hesurveyed the itemwitha feelingof

pleasure: “Bel Arvardan, Baronn, Sirius Sector—curious about the Sixty—secretiveaboutownaffairs—enteredChicabycommercialplane11a.m.Chicatime,12October—anti-Terrestrianattitudeverymarked.”This time maybe he had a real haul. Picking up these little squealers who

madeincautiousremarkswasdullwork,butthingslikethismadeitpayoff.TheBrotherhoodwouldhavehisreportbeforehalfanhourwasup.Hemade

hiswayleisurelyoffthefield.

8

ConvergenceatChica

For the twentieth timeDr. Shekt leafed through his latest volume ofresearch notes, then looked up as Pola entered his office. She frowned as sheslippedonherlabcoat.“Now,Father,haven’tyoueatenyet?”“Eh?CertainlyIhave....Oh,what’sthis?”“Thisislunch.Oritwas,once.Whatyouatemusthavebeenbreakfast.Now

there’snosenseinmybuyingmealsandbringingthemhereifyou’renotgoingtoeatthem.I’mjustgoingtomakeyougohomeforthem.”“Don’tget excited. I’ll eat it. I can’t interruptavital experimentevery time

youthinkIoughttoeat,youknow.”He grew cheerful again over the dessert. “You have no idea,” he said, “the

kindofmanthisSchwartzis.DidIevertellyouabouthisskullsutures?”“They’reprimitive.Youtoldme.”“But that’snotall.He’sgot thirty-two teeth: threemolarsupanddown, left

and right, counting one false one thatmust be homemade.At least I’ve neverseen a bridge that hasmetal prongs hooking it onto adjacent teeth instead ofbeinggraftedtothejawbone....Buthaveyoueverseenanyonewiththirty-twoteeth?”“Idon’tgoaboutcountingpeople’steeth,Father.What’stherightnumber—

twenty-eight?”“It sure asSpace is. . . . I’m still not finished, though.We took an internal

analysisyesterday.Whatdoyousupposewefound?...Guess!”“Intestines?”“Pola,you’rebeingdeliberatelyannoying,butIdon’tcare.Youneedn’tguess;

I’ll tellyou.Schwartzhasavermiformappendix, threeandahalf inches long,andit’sopen.GreatGalaxy,it’scompletelyunprecedented!Ihavecheckedwiththe Medical School—cautiously, of course—and appendixes are practicallyneverlongerthanhalfaninch,andthey’reneveropen.”“Andjustwhatdoesthatmean?”“Why,he’sacompletethrowback,alivingfossil.”Hehadrisenfromhischair

andpaced thedistance to thewallandbackwithhastysteps.“I tellyouwhat,Pola,Idon’tthinkweoughttogiveSchwartzup.He’stoovaluableaspecimen.”“No, no, Father,” said Pola quickly, “you can’t do that. You promised that

farmer to return Schwartz, and you must for Schwartz’s own sake. He’sunhappy.”“Unhappy!Why,we’retreatinghimlikearichOutsider.”“Whatdifferencedoesthatmake?Thepoorfellowisusedtohisfarmandhis

people.He’slivedthereallhislife.Andnowhe’shadafrighteningexperience—apainfulone,forallIknow—andhismindworksdifferentlynow.Hecan’tbeexpectedtounderstand.We’vegottoconsiderhishumanrightsandreturnhimtohisfamily.”“But,Pola,thecauseofscience—”“Oh,shush!Whatisthecauseofscienceworthtome?Whatdoyousuppose

theBrotherhoodwillsaywhentheyhearofyourunauthorizedexperiments?Doyouthinktheycareaboutthecauseofscience?Imean,consideryourselfifyoudon’t wish to consider Schwartz. The longer you keep him, the greater thechance of being caught. You send him home tomorrow night, the way youoriginallyplannedto,doyouhear?...I’llgodownandseeifSchwartzwantsanythingbeforedinner.”But shewas back in less than fiveminutes, face damp and chalky. “Father,

he’sgone!”“Who’sgone?”heasked,startled.“Schwartz!”shecried,halfintears.“Youmusthaveforgottentolockthedoor

whenyoulefthim.”Shektwasonhisfeet,throwingahandouttosteadyhimself.“Howlong?”“Idon’tknow.Butitcan’tbeverylong.Whenwereyoulastthere?”“Notfifteenminutes.Ihadjustbeenhereaminuteortwowhenyoucamein.”“Well,then,”withsuddendecision,“I’llrunout.Hemaysimplybewandering

about the neighborhood. You stay here. If someone else picks him up, theymustn’tconnecthimwithyou.Understand?”

Shektcouldonlynod.Joseph Schwartz felt no lifting of the heart when he exchanged theconfinesofhisprisonhospital for theexpansesof thecityoutside.Hedidnotdelude himself to the effect that he had a plan of action.He knew, and knewwell,thathewassimplyimprovising.If any rational impulse guided him (as distinct from mere blind desire to

exchange inaction for action of any sort), it was the hope that by chanceencountersomefacetof lifewouldbringbackhiswanderingmemory.Thathewasanamnesiachewasnowfullyconvinced.Thefirstglimpseofthecity,however,wasdisheartening.Itwaslateafternoon

and, in the sunlight,Chicawas amilkywhite.Thebuildingsmighthavebeenconstructedofporcelain,likethatfarmhousehehadfirststumbledupon.Stirringsdeepwithintoldhimthatcitiesshouldbebrownandred.Andthey

shouldbemuchdirtier.Hewassureofthat.Hewalkedslowly.Hefelt,somehow,thattherewouldbenoorganizedsearch

forhim.Heknewthat,withoutknowinghowheknew.Tobesure,inthelastfewdays he had found himself growing increasingly sensitive to “atmosphere,” tothe“feel”ofthingsabouthim.Itwaspartofthestrangenessinhismind,since—since...Histhoughttrailedaway.In any case, the “atmosphere” at the hospital prisonwas one of secrecy; a

frightenedsecrecy,itseemed.Sotheycouldnotpursuehimwithloudoutcry.Heknew that.Nowwhyshouldheknowthat?Wasthisqueeractivityofhismindpartofwhatwentonincasesofamnesia?He crossed another intersection. Wheeled vehicles were relatively few.

Pedestrians were—well, pedestrians. Their clothes were rather laughable:seamless,buttonless,colorful.Butthensowerehisown.Hewonderedwherehisoldclotheswere,thenwonderedifhehadeverreallyownedsuchclothesasheremembered.Itisverydifficulttobesureofanything,onceyoubegindoubtingyourmemoryonprinciple.Butherememberedhiswifesoclearly;hischildren.Theycouldn’tbefictions.

He stopped in the middle of the walk to regain a composure suddenly lost.Perhaps theywere distorted versions of real people, in this so unreal-seemingreallife,whomhemustfind.Peoplewerebrushingpasthimandseveralmutteredunamiably.Hemovedon.

The thought occurred to him, suddenly and forcibly, that he was hungry, orwouldbesoon,andthathehadnomoney.

Helookedabout.Nothinglikearestaurantinsight.Well,howdidheknow?Hecouldn’treadthesigns.Hegazedintoeachstorefronthepassed. . . .Andthenhefoundaninterior

whichconsistedinpartofsmallalcovedtables,atoneofwhichtwomensatandanotheratwhichasinglemansat.Andthemenwereeating.Atleastthathadn’tchanged.Menwhoatestillchewedandswallowed.He stepped in and, for a moment, stopped in considerable bewilderment.

Therewasnocounter,nocookinggoingon,nosignsofanykitchen.Ithadbeenhisideatooffertowashthedishesforameal,but—towhomcouldhemaketheoffer?Diffidently, he stepped up to the two diners. He pointed, and said

painstakingly,“Food!Where?Please.”They looked up at him, rather startled. One spoke fluently, and quite

incomprehensibly,pattingasmallstructureatthewallendofthetable.Theotherjoinedin,impatiently.Schwartz’seyesfell.Heturnedtoleave,andtherewasahanduponhissleeve

—Granz had seen Schwartzwhile the latter was still only a plump andwistfulfaceatthewindow.Hesaid,“What’shewant?”Messter, sitting across the little table, with his back to the street, turned,

looked,shruggedhisshoulders,andsaidnothing.Granzsaid,“He’scomingin,”andMessterreplied,“Sowhat?”“Nothing.Justmentioningit.”But a few moments later the newcomer, after looking about helplessly,

approached and pointed to their beef stew, saying in a queer accent, “Food!Where?Please.”Granzlookedup.“Foodrighthere,bud.Justpullupachairatanytableyou

wantandusetheFoodomat.. . .Foodomat!Don’tyouknowwhataFoodomatis? . . . Look at the poor jerk, Messter. He’s looking at me as if he doesn’tunderstandawordIsay.Hey,fella—thisthing,see.Justputacoininandletmeeat,willyou?”“Leavehimalone,”gruntedMesster.“He’sjustabum,lookingforahandout.”“Hey,holdon.”GranzseizedSchwartz’ssleeveasthelatterturnedtogo.He

addedinanasidetoMesster,“Space,lettheguyeat.He’sprobablygettingtheSixtysoon.It’stheleastIcandotogivehimabreak....Hey,bud,yougotanymoney? . . .Well, I’ll bedamned,he still doesn’tunderstandme.Money,pal,

money! This—” And he drew a shining half-credit piece out of his pocket,flippingitsothatitsparkledintheair.“Gotany?”heasked.SlowlySchwartzshookhishead.“Well,then,havethisonme!”Hereplacedthehalf-creditpieceinhispocket

andtossedoveraconsiderablysmallercoin.Schwartzheldituncertainly.“Allright.Don’tjuststandthere.StickitintheFoodomat.Thisthinghere.”Schwartzsuddenlyfoundhimselfunderstanding.TheFoodomathadaseries

of slits for coins of different sizes and a series of knobs opposite littlemilkyrectangles, thewritinguponwhichhe couldnot read.Schwartz pointed to thefood on the table and ran a forefinger up and down the knobs, raising hiseyebrowsinquestion.Messter said in annoyance, “A sandwich isn’t good enough for him.We’re

getting classy bums in this burg nowadays. It doesn’t pay to humor them,Granz.”“Allright,soIlosepointeightfivecredits.Tomorrow’spayday,anyway....

Here,”hesaidtoSchwartz.HeplacedcoinsofhisownintotheFoodomatandwithdrewthewidemetalcontainerfromtherecessinthewall.“Nowtakeit toanothertable....Nah,keepthattenthpiece.Buyyourselfacupofcoffeewithit.”Schwartz carried the container gingerly to the next table. It had a spoon

attachedtothesidebymeansofatransparent,filmymaterial,whichbrokewitha slight pop under the pressure of a fingernail. As it did so, the top of thecontainerpartedataseamandcurledbackuponitself.Thefood,unlikethatwhichhesawtheotherseating,wascold;butthatwasa

detail. It was only after a minute or so that he realized the food was gettingwarmerandthatthecontainerhadgrownhottothetouch.Hestopped,inalarm,andwaited.Thegravy first steamed, thenbubbledgently for amoment. It cooled again

andSchwartzcompletedthemeal.Granz andMesster were still there when he left. So was the third man, to

whom,throughout,Schwartzhadpaidnoattention.NorhadSchwartznoticed,atanytimesincehehadlefttheInstitute,thethin,

little man who, without seeming to, had managed to remain always withineyeshot.Bel Arvardan, having showered and changed his clothes, promptly

followedhisoriginalintentionofobservingthehumananimal,subspeciesEarth,in its native habitat. The weather was mild, the light breeze refreshing, thevillageitself—pardon,thecity—bright,quiet,andclean.Notsobad.Chica first stop, he thought. Largest collection of Earthmen on the planet.

Washenn next; local capital. Senloo! Senfran! Bonair! . . . He had plotted anitineraryalloverthewesterncontinents(wheremostofthemeagerscatteringofEarth’spopulation lived)and,allowingtwoor threedaysateach,hewouldbebackinChicajustaboutthetimehisexpeditionaryshipwasdue.Itwouldbeeducational.As afternoon began to decline he stepped into a Foodomat and, as he ate,

observedthesmalldramathatplayeditselfoutbetweenthetwoEarthmenwhohadenteredshortlyafterhimselfandtheplump,elderlymanwhocameinlastofall.Buthisobservationwasdetachedandcasual,simplynotingitasanitemtoset against his unpleasant experience on the jet transport. The twomen at thetable were obviously air-cab drivers and not wealthy, yet they could becharitable.Thebeggarleft,andtwominuteslaterArvardanleftaswell.Thestreetswerenoticeablyfuller,astheworkdaywasapproachingitsend.Hesteppedhastilyasidetoavoidcollidingwithayounggirl.“Pardonme,”hesaid.Shewasdressed inwhite, in clothingwhichbore the stereotyped lines of a

uniform.Sheseemedquiteobliviousofthenearcollision.Theanxiouslookonherface,thesharpturningofherheadfromsidetoside,herutterpreoccupation,madethesituationquiteobvious.He laid a light finger on her shoulder. “May I help you,miss?Are you in

trouble?”She stopped and turned startled eyes upon him. Arvardan found himself

judging her age at nineteen to twenty-one, observing carefully her brown hairanddarkeyes,herhighcheekbonesandlittlechin,herslimwaistandgracefulcarriage.Hediscovered,suddenly,thatthethoughtofthislittlefemalecreaturebeinganEarthwomanlentasortofperversepiquancytoherattractiveness.Butshewasstillstaring,andalmostatthemomentofspeakingsheseemedto

breakdown.“Oh,it’snouse.Pleasedon’tbotheraboutme.It’ssillytoexpecttofindsomeonewhenyoudon’thavetheslightestideawherehecouldhavegone.”Shewasdrooping indiscouragement,hereyeswet.Then she straightenedandbreatheddeeply.“Haveyouseenaplumpmanaboutfive-four,dressedingreenandwhite,nohat,ratherbald?”Arvardanlookedatherinastonishment.“What?Greenandwhite?...Oh,I

don’tbelievethis. . . .Look, thismanyou’rereferringto—doeshespeakwithdifficulty?”“Yes,yes.Ohyes.Youhaveseenhim,then?”“Notfiveminutesagohewasinthereeatingwithtwomen....Heretheyare.

...Say,youtwo.”Hebeckonedthemover.Granzreachedthemfirst.“Cab,sir?”“No,butifyoutelltheyoungladywhathappenedtothemanyouwereeating

with,you’llstandtomakethefare,anyway.”Granzpausedand lookedchagrined.“Well, I’d like tohelpyou,but Inever

sawhimbeforeinmylife.”Arvardan turned to the girl. “Now look, miss, he can’t have gone in the

direction you came from or you’d have seen him. And he can’t be far away.Supposewemovenorthabit.I’llrecognizehimifIseehim.”His offer of help was an impulse, yet Arvardan was not, ordinarily, an

impulsiveman.Hefoundhimselfsmilingather.Granzinterruptedsuddenly.“What’shedone,lady?Hehasn’tbrokenanyof

theCustoms,hashe?”“No,no,”sherepliedhastily.“He’sonlyalittlesick,that’sall.”Messterlookedafterthemastheyleft.“Alittlesick?”Heshovedhisvisored

capbackuponhishead,thenpinchedbalefullyathischin.“Howd’yalikethat,Granz?Alittlesick.”Hiseyeslookedaskanceattheotherforamoment.“What’sgotintoyou?”askedGranzuneasily.“Somethingthat’smakingmealittlesick.Thatguymust’vebeenstraightout

of thehospital.Thatwasanurse looking forhim,andaplentyworriednurse,too.Whyshouldshebeworriedifhewasjusta littlesick?Hecouldn’thardlytalk,andhedidn’thardlyunderstand.Younoticedthat,didn’tyou?”There was a sudden panicky light in Granz’s eyes. “You don’t think it’s

Fever?”“Isuredothinkit’sRadiationFever—andhe’sfargone.Hewaswithinafoot

ofus,too.It’sneveranygood—”Therewasalittlethinmannexttothem.Alittlethinmanwithbright,sharp

eyes and a twittering voice, who had stepped out of nowhere. “What’s that,gents?Who’sgotRadiationFever?”Hewasregardedwithdisfavor.“Whoareyou?”“Ho,”saidthesharplittleman,“youwanttoknow,doyou?Itsohappensthat

I’m amessenger of the Brotherhood, to be sure.” He flashed a little glowingbadge on the inner lapel of his jacket. “Now, in the name of the Society ofAncients,what’sallthisaboutRadiationFever?”

Messter spoke in cowed and sullen tones. “I don’t knownothing.There’s anurselookingforsomebodywho’ssick,andIwaswonderingifitwasRadiationFever.That’snotagainsttheCustoms,isit?”“Ho!You’retellingmeabouttheCustoms,areyou?Youbettergoaboutyour

businessandletmeworryabouttheCustoms.”The little man rubbed his hands together, gazed quickly about him, and

hurriednorthward.“Thereheis!”andPolaclutchedfeverishlyathercompanion’selbow.Ithadhappenedquickly,easily,andaccidentally.Throughthedespairingblanknesshe had suddenlymaterialized justwithin themain entrance of the self-servicedepartmentstore,notthreeblocksfromtheFoodomat.“Iseehim,”whisperedArvardan.“Nowstaybackandletmefollowhim.If

heseesyouanddashesintothemob,we’llneverlocatehim.”Casually theyfollowed inasortofnightmarechase.Thehumancontentsof

thestorewasaquicksandwhichcouldabsorbitspreyslowly—orquickly—keepithiddenimpenetrably,spewitforthunexpectedly,setupbarriersthatsomehowwouldnotyield.Themobmightalmosthavehadamalevolentconsciousmindofitsown.AndthenArvardancircledacounterwatchfully,playingSchwartzasthough

hewereattheendofafishingline.Hishugehandreachedoutandclosedontheother’sshoulder.Schwartz burst into incomprehensible prose and jerked away in panic.

Arvardan’sgrip,however,wasunbreakable tomenfarstronger thanSchwartz,and he contented himself with smiling and saying, in normal tones, for thebenefitof thecurious spectator, “Hello,oldchap,haven’t seenyou inmonths.Howareyou?”Apalpable fraud,hesupposed, in the faceof theother’sgibberish,butPola

hadjoinedthem.“Schwartz,”shewhispered,“comebackwithus.”ForamomentSchwartzstiffenedinrebellion,thenhedrooped.Hesaidwearily,“I—go—along—you,”butthestatementwasdrownedinthe

suddenblareofthestore’sloud-speakersystem.“Attention!Attention!Attention!Themanagementrequeststhatallpatronsof

thestoreleavebytheFifthStreetexitinorderlyfashion.Youwillpresentyourregistration cards to the guards at the door. It is essential that this be donerapidly.Attention!Attention!Attention!”The message was repeated three times, the last time over the sound of

scufflingfeetascrowdswerebeginningtolineupattheexits.Amany-tonguedcrywasmakingitselfheard,askinginvariousfashionstheforever-unanswerablequestionof“What’shappened?What’sgoingon?”Arvardanshruggedandsaid,“Let’sgetonline,miss.We’releavinganyway.”ButPolashookherhead.“Wecan’t.Wecan’t—”“Whynot?”Thearchaeologistfrowned.Thegirlmerelyshrankawayfromhim.HowcouldshetellhimthatSchwartz

hadnoregistrationcard?Whowashe?Whyhadhebeenhelpingher?Shewasinawhirlofsuspicionanddespair.Shesaidhuskily,“You’dbettergo,oryou’llgetintotrouble.”Theywerepouringout the elevators as theupper floors emptied.Arvardan,

Pola,andSchwartzwerealittleislandofsolidityinthehumanriver.Lookingbackonitlater,Arvardanrealizedthatatthispointhecouldhaveleft

thegirl.Lefther!Neverseenheragain!Havenothingtoreproachhimselfwith!. . .Andallwouldhavebeendifferent.ThegreatGalacticEmpirewouldhavedissolvedinchaosanddestruction.Hedidnotleavethegirl.Shewasscarcelyprettyinherfearanddespair.No

onecouldbe.ButArvardanfeltdisturbedatthesightofherhelplessness.Hehadtakenastepaway,andnowheturned.“Areyougoingtostayhere?”Shenodded.“Butwhy?”hedemanded.“Because”—andthetearsnowoverflowed—“Idon’tknowwhatelsetodo.”Shewasjustalittle,frightenedgirl,evenifshewasanEarthie.Arvardansaid,

inasoftervoice,“Ifyou’lltellmewhat’swrong,I’lltrytohelp.”Therewasnoanswer.The three formed a tableau. Schwartz had sunk to the floor in a squatting

posture, toosickatheart to try tofollowtheconversation, tobecuriousat thesuddenemptinessofthestore,todoanythingbutburyhisheadinhishandsinthelastunspokenandunutteredwhimperofdespair.Pola,weeping,knewonlythatshewasmorefrightenedthanshehadeverthoughtitpossibleforanyonetobe.Arvardan,puzzledandwaiting,triedclumsilyandineffectuallytopatPola’sshoulderinencouragingfashion,andwasconsciousonlyofthefactthatforthefirsttimehehadtouchedanEarthgirl.Thelittlemancameuponthemthus.

9

ConflictatChica

LieutenantMarcClaudyoftheChicagarrisonyawnedslowlyandgazedinto the middle distance with an ineffable boredom. He was completing hissecondyearofdutyonEarthandwaitedyearninglyforreplacement.Nowhere in theGalaxywas the problemofmaintaining a garrison quite so

complicated as itwas on this horribleworld.On other planets there existed acertain camaraderie between soldier and civilian, particularly female civilian.Therewasasenseoffreedomandopenness.But here the garrisonwas a prison.Therewere the radiation-proof barracks

and the filtered atmosphere, free of radioactive dust. There was the lead-impregnated clothing, cold and heavy, which could not be removed withoutgrave risk.Asa corollary to that, fraternizationwith thepopulation (assumingthat the desperation of loneliness could drive a soldier to the society of an“Earthie”girl)wasoutofthequestion.Whatwasleft,then,butshortsnorts,longnaps,andslowmadness?LieutenantClaudyshookhisheadinafutileattempttoclearit,yawnedagain,

satupandbegandraggingonhisshoes.Helookedathiswatchanddecideditwasnotyetquitetimeforeveningchow.And thenhe jumped to his feet, onlyone shoeon, acutely consciousof his

uncombedhair,andsaluted.Thecolonel lookedabouthimdisparaginglybutsaidnothingdirectlyon the

subject.Insteadhedirectedcrisply,“Lieutenant,therearereportsofriotinginthe

business district. You will take a decontamination squad to the Dunhamdepartment store and take charge. You will see to it that all your men arethoroughlyprotectedagainstinfectionbyRadiationFever.”“RadiationFever!”criedthelieutenant.“Pardonme,sir,but—”“Youwillbereadytoleaveinfifteenminutes,”saidthecolonelcoldly.

Arvardansawthelittlemanfirst,andstiffenedastheothermadealittlegestureofgreeting.“Hi,guv’ner.Hi,bigfella.Tellthelittleladythereain’tnocallforthewaterworks.”Pola’sheadhadsnappedup,herbreath sucked in.Automatically she leaned

towardtheprotectingbulkofArvardan,who,asautomatically,putaprotectivearm about her. It did not occur to him that that was the second time he hadtouchedanEarthgirl.Hesaidsharply,“Whatdoyouwant?”The little man with the sharp eyes stepped diffidently out from behind a

counterpiledhighwithpackages.Hespoke inamannerwhichmanagedtobebothingratiatingandimpudentsimultaneously.“Here’saweirdgooutside,”hesaid,“but itdon’tneed tobotheryou,miss.

I’llgetyourmanbacktotheInstituteforyou.”“Whatinstitute?”demandedPolafearfully.“Aw,comeoff it,” said the littleman. “I’mNatter, fellawith the fruit stand

rightacross the street from the Institute forNuclearResearch. I seenyouherelotsoftimes.”“Seehere,”saidArvardanabruptly,“what’sallthisabout?”Natter’s little frame shook with merriment. “They think this fella here has

RadiationFever—”“RadiationFever?”ItcamefrombothArvardanandPolaatonce.Natternodded.“That’s right.Twocabbiesatewithhimand that’swhat they

said.Newslikethatkindaspreads,youknow.”“The guards outside,” demanded Pola, “are just looking for someone with

fever?”“That’sright.”“Andjustwhyaren’tyouafraidofthefever?”demandedArvardanabruptly.

“I take it that itwas fearofcontagion thatcaused theauthorities toempty thestore.”“Sure. The authorities are waiting outside, afraid to come in, too. They’re

waitingfortheOutsiders’decontaminationsquadtogethere.”“Andyou’renotafraidofthefever,isthatit?”

“Whyshould Ibe?Thisguydon’thaveno fever.Lookathim.Where’s thesoresonhismouth?Heisn’tflushed.Hiseyesareallright.Iknowwhatfeverlookslike.Comeon,miss,we’llmarchoutofhere,then.”ButPolawasfrightenedagain.“No,no.Wecan’t.He’s—he’s—”Shecouldn’t

goon.Natter said insinuatingly, “I could take him out. No questions asked. No

registrationcardnecessary—”Pola failed to suppress a little cry, and Arvardan said, with considerable

distaste,“Whatmakesyousoimportant?”Natter laughedhoarsely.He flippedhis lapel.“Messenger for theSocietyof

Ancients.Nobody’llaskmequestions.”“Andwhat’sinitforyou?”“Money!You’reanxiousandIcanhelpyou.Thereain’tno fairer than that.

It’sworth,say,ahundredcreditstoyou,andit’sworthahundredcreditstome.Fiftycreditsnow,fiftyondelivery.”ButPolawhisperedinhorror,“You’lltakehimtotheAncients.”“Whatfor?He’snogoodtothem,andhe’sworthahundredcreditstome.If

youwaitfortheOutsiders,they’reliabletokillthefellabeforetheyfindouthe’sfever-free.YouknowOutsiders—theydon’tcareiftheykillanEarthmanornot.They’drather,infact.”Arvardansaid,“Taketheyoungladywithyou.”But Natter’s little eyes were very sharp and very sly. “Oh no. Not that,

guv’ner.Itakewhatyoucallcalculatedrisks.Icangetbywithone,maybenotwith two.And if Ionly takeone, I take theonewhat’sworthmore.Ain’t thatreasonabletoyou?”“What,” said Arvardan, “if I pick you up and pull your legs off? What’ll

happenthen?”Natter flinched, but found his voice, nevertheless, and managed a laugh.

“Why,then,you’readope.They’llgetyouanyway,andthere’llbemurder,too,onthelist....Allright,guv’ner.Keepyourhandsoff.”“Please”—Pola was dragging at Arvardan’s arm—“wemust take a chance.

Lethimdoashesays....You’llbehonestwithus,w-won’tyou,Mr.Natter?”Natter’slipswerecurling.“Yourbigfriendwrenchedmyarm.Hehadnocall

to do that, and I don’t like nobody to pushme around. I’ll just take an extrahundredcreditsforthat.Twohundredinall.”“Myfather’llpayyou—”“Onehundredinadvance,”herepliedobdurately.“ButIdon’thaveahundredcredits,”Polawailed.“That’sallright,miss,”saidArvardanstonily.“Icanswingit.”

Heopenedhiswalletandpluckedoutseveralbills.HethrewthematNatter.“Getgoing!”“Gowithhim,Schwartz,”whisperedPola.Schwartzdid,withoutcomment,withoutcaring.Hewouldhavegonetohell

atthatmomentwithaslittleemotion.And theywere alone, staring at each other blankly. Itwas perhaps the first

timethatPolahadactuallylookedatArvardan,andshewasamazedtofindhimtallandcraggilyhandsome,calmandself-confident.Shehadacceptedhim tillnowasaninchoate,unmotivatedhelper,butnow—Shegrewsuddenlyshy,andall the events of the last hour or two were enmeshed and lost in a scurry ofheartbeating.Theydidn’tevenknoweachother’sname.Shesmiledandsaid,“I’mPolaShekt.”Arvardanhadnot seenher smilebefore,and foundhimself interested in the

phenomenon.Itwasaglowthatenteredherface,aradiance.Itmadehimfeel—Butheputthatthoughtawayroughly.AnEarthgirl!So he said,with perhaps less cordiality than he intended, “Myname isBel

Arvardan.”Heheldoutabronzedhand,intowhichherlittleonewasswallowedupforamoment.Shesaid,“Imustthankyouforallyourhelp.”Arvardanshruggeditaway.“Shallweleave?Imean,nowthatyourfriendis

gone;safely,Itrust.”“Ithinkwewouldhaveheardquiteanoiseiftheyhadcaughthim,don’tyou

thinkso?”Hereyeswerepleadingforconfirmationofherhope,andherefusedthetemptationtowardsoftness.“Shallwego?”Shewassomehowfrozen.“Yes,whynot?”sharply.Buttherewasawhiningintheair,ashrillmoanonthehorizon,andthegirl’s

eyeswerewideandheroutstretchedhandsuddenlywithdrawnagain.“What’sthematternow?”askedArvardan.“It’stheImperials.”“And are you frightened of them too?” It was the self-consciously non-

Earthman Arvardan who spoke—the Sirian archaeologist. Prejudice or not,however the logic might be chopped and minced, the approach of Imperialsoldiers meant a trace of sanity and humanity. There was room forcondescensionhere,andhegrewkind.“Don’tworryabouttheOutsiders,”hesaid,evenstoopingtousetheirtermfor

non-Earthmen.“I’llhandlethem,MissShekt.”Shewassuddenlyconcerned.“Ohno,don’ttryanythinglikethat.Justdon’t

talktothematall.Doastheysay,anddon’tevenlookatthem.”Arvardan’ssmilebroadened.

The guards saw them while they were still a distance from the mainentrance and fell back. They emerged into a little space of emptiness and astrangehush.Thewhineofthearmycarswasalmostuponthem.And then therewere armored cars in the square andgroupsof glass-globe–

headed soldiers springing out therefrom. The crowds scattered before them inpanic,aidedintheirscramblingsbyclippedshoutsandthrustswiththebuttendsoftheneuronicwhips.Lieutenant Claudy, in the lead, approached an Earthman guard at themain

entrance.“Allright,you,who’sgotthefever?”Hisfacewasslightlydistortedwithintheenclosingglass,withitscontentof

pureair.Hisvoicewasslightlymetallicasaresultofradioamplification.The guard bent his head in deep respect. “If it please your honor,we have

isolatedthepatientwithinthestore.Thetwowhowerewiththepatientarenowstandinginthedoorwaybeforeyou.”“Theyare,are they?Good!Let themstand there.Now—in the firstplace, I

wantthismoboutofhere.Sergeant!Clearthesquare!”There was a grim efficiency in the proceedings thereafter. The deepening

twilight gloomed over Chica as the crowdmelted into the darkening air. Thestreetswerebeginningtogleaminsoft,artificiallighting.LieutenantClaudytappedhisheavybootswiththebuttofhisneuronicwhip.

“You’resurethesickEarthieisinside?”“Hehasnotleft,yourhonor.Hemustbe.”“Well, we’ll assume he is and waste no time about it. Sergeant!

Decontaminatethebuilding!”A contingent of soldiers, hermetically sealed away from all contact with

Terrestrialenvironment,chargedinto thebuilding.Aslowquarterhourpassed,whileArvardanwatched all in absorbed fashion. It was a field experiment ininterculturalrelationshipsthathewasprofessionallyreluctanttodisturb.The last of the soldiers were out again, and the store was shrouded in

deepeningnight.“Sealthedoors!”Anotherfewminutesandthenthecansofdisinfectantwhichhadbeenplaced

inseveralspotsoneachfloorweredischargedatlongdistance.Intherecessesofthe building those cans were flung open and the thick vapors rolled out andcurledup thewalls,clinging toeverysquare inchofsurface, reaching through

theair and into the inmost crannies.Noprotoplasm, fromgerm toman, couldremainaliveinitspresence,andchemicalflushingofthemostpainstakingtypewouldberequiredeventuallyfordecontamination.ButnowthelieutenantwasapproachingArvardanandPola.“Whatwashisname?”Therewasnotevencrueltyinhisvoice,merelyutter

indifference.AnEarthman,hethought,hadbeenkilled.Well,hehadkilledaflythatdayalso.Thatmadetwo.Hereceivednoanswer,PolabendingherheadmeeklyandArvardanwatching

curiously. The Imperial officer did not take his eyes off them. He beckonedcurtly.“Checkthemforinfection.”An officer bearing the insignia of the Imperial Medical Corps approached

them, and was not gentle in his investigation. His gloved hands pushed hardunder theirarmpitsandyankedat thecornersof theirmouthsso thathemightinvestigatetheinnersurfacesoftheircheeks.“No infection, Lieutenant. If they had been exposed this afternoon, the

stigmatawouldbeclearlyvisiblebynowifinfectionhadoccurred.”“Umm.” Lieutenant Claudy carefully removed his globe and enjoyed the

touchof“live”air,eventhatofEarth.Hetuckedtheungainlyglassobjectintothecrookofhisleftelbowandsaidharshly,“Yourname,Earthie-squaw?”The term itselfwas richly insulting; the tone inwhich itwas uttered added

disgracetoit,butPolashowednosignofresentment.“PolaShekt,sir,”sherespondedinawhisper.“Yourpapers!”Shereached into thesmallpocketofherwhite jacketand removed thepink

folder.Hetookit,flareditopeninthelightofhispocketflash,andstudiedit.Then

hetosseditback.Itfell,fluttering,tothefloor,andPolabentquicklyforit.“Stand up,” the officer ordered impatiently, and kicked the booklet out of

reach.Pola,white-faced,snatchedherfingersaway.Arvardan frowned and decided itwas time to interfere.He said, “Say, look

here,now.”Thelieutenant turnedonhiminaflash,his lipsdrawnback.“Whatdidyou

say,Earthie?”Polawasbetweenthematonce.“Ifyouplease,sir,thismanhasnothingtodo

withanythingthathashappenedtoday.Ineversawhimbefore—”Thelieutenantyankedheraside.“Isaid,Whatdidyousay,Earthie?”Arvardanreturnedhisstarecoolly.“Isaid,Lookhere,now.AndIwasgoing

tosayfurtherthatIdon’tlikethewayyoutreatwomenandthatI’dadviseyoutoimproveyourmanners.”

Hewasfartooirritatedtocorrectthelieutenant’simpressionofhisplanetaryorigin.LieutenantClaudysmiledwithouthumor.“Andwherehaveyoubeenbrought

up, Earthie?Don’t you believe in saying ‘sir’ when you address aman?Youdon’t know your place, do you? Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had thepleasureofteachingthewayoflifetoanicebigEarthie-buck.Here,how’sthis—”And quickly, like the flick of a snake, his open palm was out and across

Arvardan’sface,backandforth,once,twice.Arvardansteppedbackinsurpriseandthenfelttheroaringinhisears.Hishandshotouttocatchtheextendedarmthatpeckedathim.Hesawtheother’sfacetwistinsurprise—Themusclesinhisshoulderswrithedeasily.The lieutenantwason thepavementwithacrashing thud that sent theglass

globe rolling into shattered fragments. He lay still, andArvardan’s half-smilewasferocious.Hedustedhishandslightly.“Anyotherbastardherethinkhecanplaypatty-cakeonmyface?”But thesergeanthad raisedhisneuronicwhip.Thecontactclosedand there

wasthedimvioletflashthatreachedoutandlickedatthetallarchaeologist.Everymuscle inArvardan’s body stiffened in unbearable pain, and he sank

slowlytohisknees.Then,withtotalparalysisuponhim,heblackedout.WhenArvardanswamoutofthehazehewasconsciousfirstofallofawashofwelcomecoolnessonhisforehead.Hetriedtoopenhiseyesandfoundhislidsreactingasifswingingonrustyhinges.Heletthemremainclosedand,with infinitelyslowjerks (eachfragmentarymuscularmovementshootingpinsthroughhim),liftedhisarmtohisface.Asoft,damptowel,heldbyalittlehand...Heforcedaneyeopenandbattledwiththemist.“Pola,”hesaid.Therewasalittlecryofsuddenjoy.“Yes.Howdoyoufeel?”“As if Iweredead,”hecroaked,“without theadvantageof losingpain. . . .

Whathappened?”“Wewerecartedofftothemilitarybase.Thecolonel’sbeeninhere.They’ve

searched you—and I don’t know what they’re going to do, but—Oh, Mr.Arvardan,you shouldn’t everhave struck the lieutenant. I thinkyoubrokehisarm.”A faint smile wrenched at Arvardan’s face. “Good! I wish I’d broken his

back.”

“But resisting an Imperial officer—it’s a capital offense.” Her voice was ahorrifiedwhisper.“Indeed?We’llseeaboutthat.”“Ssh.They’recomingback.”Arvardanclosedhiseyesandrelaxed.Pola’scrywasfaintandfar-off inhis

ears,andwhenhefelt thehypodermic’s thrusthecouldnotgatherhismusclesintomotion.Andthentherewasthewashofwonderfulsoothingnon-painalonghisveins

andnerves.Hisarmsunknottedandhisbackreleaseditselfslowlyfromitsrigidarch, settling down. He fluttered his eyelids rapidly and, with a thrust of hiselbow,satup.The colonel was regarding him thoughtfully; Pola, apprehensively, yet,

somehow,joyfully.The colonel said, “Well,Dr.Arvardan,we seem to have had an unpleasant

contretempsinthecitythisevening.”Dr. Arvardan. Pola realized the little she knew about him, not even his

occupation....Shehadneverfeltquitelikethis.Arvardan laughed shortly. “Unpleasant, you say. I consider that a rather

inadequateadjective.”“YouhavebrokenthearmofanofficeroftheEmpireabouttheperformance

ofhisduty.”“That officer struckme first.His duty in noway included the necessity for

grosslyinsultingme,bothverballyandphysically.Indoingsoheforfeitedanyclaimhemighthavetotreatmentasanofficerandgentleman.Asafreecitizenof the Empire, I had every right to resent such cavalier, not to say illegal,treatment.”Thecolonelharumphedandseemedatalossforwords.Polastaredatbothof

themwithwide,unbelievingeyes.Finallythecolonelsaidsoftly,“Well,IneednotsaythatIconsiderthewhole

incident to have been unfortunate.Apparently the pain and indignity involvedhavebeenequallyspreadonbothsides.Itmaybebesttoforgetthismatter.”“Forget? I think not. I have been a guest at theProcurator’s palace, and he

maybeinterestedinhearingexactlyinwhatmannerhisgarrisonmaintainsorderonEarth.”“Now,Dr.Arvardan,ifIassureyouthatyouwillreceiveapublicapology—”“Tohellwiththat.WhatdoyouintenddoingwithMissShekt?”“Whatwouldyousuggest?”“That you freeher instantly, returnher papers, and tenderyour apologies—

rightnow.”

Thecolonelreddened,thensaidwithaneffort,“Ofcourse.”HeturnedtoPola.“Iftheyoungladywillacceptmydeepestregrets...”Theyhad left thedarkgarrisonwalls behind them. It hadbeen a shortandsilent ten-minuteair-taxiride to thecityproper,andnowtheystoodat thedesertedblacknessoftheInstitute.Itwaspastmidnight.Pola said, “I don’t think I quite understand.Youmust be very important. It

seemssillyofmenot toknowyourname.Ididn’teverimaginethatOutsiderscouldtreatanEarthmanso.”Arvardanfeltoddlyreluctantandyetcompelledtoendthefiction.“I’mnotan

Earthman,Pola.I’manarchaeologistfromtheSirianSector.”Sheturnedonhimquickly,herfacewhiteinthemoonlight.Forthespaceofa

slowcounttotenshesaidnothing.“Thenyououtfacedthesoldiersbecauseyouweresafe,afterall,andknewit.AndIthought—Ishouldhaveknown.”Therewasanoutragedbitternessabouther.“Ihumblybegyourpardon,sir,if

atanytimetoday,inmyignorance,Iaffectedanydisrespectfulfamiliaritywithyou—”“Pola,” he cried angrily, “what’s thematter?What if I’mnot anEarthman?

HowdoesthatmakemedifferentfromwhatIseemedtoyoutobefiveminutesago?”“Youmighthavetoldme,sir.”“I’mnotaskingyoutocallme‘sir.’Don’tbeliketherestofthem,willyou?”“Like the rest ofwhom, sir?The rest of thedisgusting animals that liveon

Earth?...Ioweyouahundredcredits.”“Forgetit,”saidArvardandisgustedly.“Icannotfollowthatorder.Ifyou’llgivemeyouraddress,Iwillsendyoua

moneyorderfortheamounttomorrow.”Arvardan was suddenly brutal. “You owe me much more than a hundred

credits.”Polabitherlipandsaidinloweredtones,“Itistheonlypartofmygreatdebt,

sir,thatIcanrepay.Youraddress?”“StateHouse,”heflungatheracrosshisshoulder.Hewaslostinthenight.AndPolafoundherselfweeping!

ShektmetPolaatthedoorofhisoffice.“He’sback,”hesaid.“Alittlethinmanbroughthim.”“Good!”Shewashavingdifficultyspeaking.“Heaskedfortwohundredcredits.Igaveittohim.”

“Hewastoaskforonehundred,butnevermind.”She brushed past her father.He saidwistfully, “Iwas terriblyworried. The

commotions in the neighborhood—I dared not ask; I might have endangeredyou.”“It’sallright.Nothing’shappened....Letmesleepheretonight,Father.”Butnotallherwearinesscouldmakehersleep,forsomethinghadhappened.

Shehadmetaman,andhewasanOutsider.Butshehadhisaddress.Shehadhisaddress.

10

InterpretationofEvents

Theypresentedacompletecontrast,thesetwoEarthmen—onewiththegreatestsemblanceofpoweronEarth,andonewiththegreatestreality.Thus the High Minister was the most important Earthman on Earth, the

recognizedruleroftheplanetbydirectanddefinitedecreeoftheEmperorofalltheGalaxy—subject, of course, to theordersof theEmperor’sProcurator.HisSecretary seemed no one at all, really—merely a member of the Society ofAncients, appointed, theoretically,by theHighMinister to takecareof certainunspecifieddetails,anddismissable,theoretically,atwill.TheHighMinisterwasknown to all theEarth andwas lookedup to as the

supremearbiteronmattersofCustom.Itwashewhoannouncedtheexemptionsto the Sixty and it was he who judged the breakers of ritual, the defiers ofrationingandofproductionschedules,theinvadersofrestrictedterritoryandsoon.TheSecretary,ontheotherhand,wasknowntonobody,notevenbyname,excepttotheSocietyofAncientsand,ofcourse,totheHighMinisterhimself.TheHighMinisterhadacommandoflanguageandmadefrequentspeechesto

thepeople, speechesofhighemotionalcontentandcopious flowofsentiment.He had fair hair, worn long, and a delicate and patrician countenance. TheSecretary, snub-nosed andwry-faced, preferred a short word to a long one, agrunttoaword,andsilencetoagrunt—atleastinpublic.It was the HighMinister, of course, who had the semblance of power; the

Secretarywhohadthereality.AndintheprivacyoftheHighMinister’soffice

thatcircumstancewasquiteplain.For the High Minister was pettishly puzzled and the Secretary coolly

indifferent.“What I don’t see,” said the HighMinister, “is the connection of all these

reports you bringme.Reports, reports!”He lifted an arm above his head andstruckviciouslyatanimaginaryheapofpaper.“Idon’thavethetimeforthem.”“Exactly,” said the Secretary coldly. “It is why you hire me. I read them,

digestthem,transmitthem.”“Well, goodBalkis, about your business, then.Andquickly, since these are

minormatters.”“Minor?YourExcellencymayloseagreatdealsomedayifyourjudgmentis

notsharpened....Letusseewhatthesereportsmean,andIshallthenaskyouifyoustillconsiderthemminor.Firstwehavetheoriginalreport,nowsevendaysold,fromShekt’sunderling,anditisthatwhichfirstputmeonthetrail.”“Whattrail?”Balkis’s smile was faintly bitter. “May I recall to Your Excellency certain

importantprojectswhichhavebeennurturedhereonEarthforseveralyears.”“Ssh!”theHighMinister,insuddenlossofdignity,couldnotforbearlooking

abouthastily.“YourExcellency,itisnotnervousnessbutconfidencethatwillwinforus....

You know further that the success of this project has depended upon thejudicioususeofShekt’slittletoy,theSynapsifier.Untilnow,atleastasfarasweknow, it has been utilized under our direction only, and for definite purposes.Andnow,withoutwarning,ShekthasSynapsifiedanunknownman,incompleteviolationofourorders.”“This,”saidtheHighMinister,“isasimplematter.DisciplineShekt,takethe

treatedmanintocustody,andendthematter.”“No,no.Youarefartoostraightforward,YourExcellency.Youmissthepoint.

It isnotwhatShekthasdone,butwhyhehasdoneso.Notethat thereexistsacoincidence about the matter, one of a considerable series of subsequentcoincidences.TheProcuratorofEarthhadvisitedShektthatsameday,andShekthimself reported to us, in loyal and trustworthy fashion, all that had passedbetween them. Ennius had wanted the Synapsifier for Imperial use. Hemadepromise,itseems,ofgreathelpandgraciousassistancefromtheEmperor.”“Hmm,”saidtheHighMinister.“Youareintrigued?Acompromisesuchasthatseemsattractiveascompared

tothedangersattendingourpresentcourse?...Doyourememberthepromisesoffoodtousduringthefaminefiveyearsago?Doyou?ShipmentswererefusedbecausewelackedImperialcredits,andEarth-manufacturedproductswouldnot

beaccepted,asbeingradioactivelycontaminated.Wasthereafreegiftoffoodaspromised?Wasthereevenaloan?Ahundredthousanddiedofstarvation.Don’tputyourtrustinOutsiderpromises.“But that does notmatter.What does is that Shektmade a great display of

loyalty.Surelywecouldneverdoubthimagain.Withcompoundedcertainty,wecouldnotsuspecthimoftreasonthatveryday.Yetsoitcametopass.”“Youmeaninthisunauthorizedexperiment,Balkis?”“Ido,YourExcellency.Whowas theman treated?Wehavephotographsof

himand,withthehelpofShekt’stechnician,retinalpatterns.AcheckwiththePlanetaryRegistry shows no record of him.The conclusionmust therefore bereachedthatheisnoEarthman,butanOutsider.Furthermore,Shektmusthavebeen aware of it, since a registration card cannot be forged or transferred, ifcheckedwithretinalpatterns.So,insimplefashion,theunalterablefactsleadustotheconclusionthatShekthasSynapsified,knowingly,anOutsider.Andwhy?...“The answer to that may be disturbingly simple. Shekt is not an ideal

instrument for our purposes. In his youth he was an Assimilationist; he evenonce stood for election to theWashennCouncil on a platform of conciliationwiththeEmpire.Hewasdefeated,bytheway.”TheHighMinisterinterrupted.“Ididn’tknowthat.”“Thathewasdefeated?”“No, thathe ran.Whywasn’t I informedof this?Shekt isaverydangerous

maninthepositionhenowholds.”Balkis smiled softlyand tolerantly. “Shekt invented theSynapsifier and still

represents theoneman trulyexperienced in itsoperation.Hehas alwaysbeenwatched,andwillnowbewatchedmorecloselythanever.Donotforgetthatatraitorwithin our ranks, known tous, can domore harm to the enemy than aloyalmancandogoodtous.“Now, let us continue to deal with the facts. Shekt has Synapsified an

Outsider.Why?ThereisonlyonereasonwhyaSynapsifiercanpossiblybeused—to improve a mind. And why that? Because only so can the minds of ourscientists, already improvedbySynapsification,beovertaken.Eh?ThismeansthattheEmpirehasatleastafaintsuspicionofwhatisgoingonuponEarth.Isthatminor,YourExcellency?”Therewas a scattereddewon theHighMinister’s forehead. “Doyou really

thinkso?”“The facts are a jigsaw puzzle that can fit only one way. The Outsider so

treatedwas aman of undistinguished, even contemptible, appearance.A goodstroke, too,sinceabaldandfatoldmancanstillbe theEmpire’smostskilled

espionageagent.Ohyes.Yes.Whoelsecouldbe trustedonamissionsuchasthis? . . . But we have followed this stranger, whose alias, by the way, isSchwartz,asfaraswecan.Letustakethissecondfileofreports.”The High Minister cast an eye upon them. “The ones concerning Bel

Arvardan?”“Dr. Bel Arvardan,” assented Balkis, “eminent archaeologist of the gallant

SirianSector,thoseworldsofbraveandchivalrousbigots.”Hespatthelastout.Then, “Well, nevermind. In any case, we have here a queermirror image toSchwartz,analmostpoeticcontrast.Heisnotunknown,but,instead,afamousfigure.Heisnotasecretintruder,butonewhocomesfloatingonatidalwaveofpublicity. We are warned of him not by an obscure technician, but by theProcuratorofEarthhimself.”“Doyouthinkthereisaconnection,Balkis?”“YourExcellencymaysupposeitpossiblethatonemaybedesignedtodistract

ourattentionfromtheother.Orelse,sincetherulingclassesoftheEmpireareskilledenoughinintrigue,wehaveanexampleoftwomethodsofcamouflage.InthecaseofSchwartz,thelightsareputout.InthecaseofArvardan,thelightsare flashed in our eyes. In neither case arewe intended to see anything? . . .Come,ofwhatdidEnniuswarnusconcerningArvardan?”TheHighMinisterrubbedhisnose thoughtfully.“Arvardan,hesaid,wason

anarchaeologicalexpeditionunderImperialsponsorshipandwishedtoentertheForbiddenAreasforscientificpurposes.Nosacrilege,hesaid,wasintended,andifwecouldstophimingentlefashion,hewouldbackouractiontotheImperialCouncil.Somethinglikethat.”“SothenwewillwatchArvardanclosely,butforwhatpurpose?Why,tosee

thathemakesnounauthorizedentryintotheForbiddenAreas.Here’stheheadof an archaeological expedition without men, ships, or equipment. Here’s anOutsiderwhodoesnotremainatEverest,wherehebelongs,butwandersaboutEarth, for some reason—and goes to Chica first. And how is our attentiondistracted from all thesemost curious and suspicious circumstances?Why, byurgingustowatchcarefullysomethingthatisofnoimportance.“Butnotice,YourExcellency, thatSchwartzwaskepthidden in theInstitute

forNuclearResearchforsixdays.Andthenheescaped.Isn’tthatstrange?Thedoor, suddenly, wasn’t locked. The corridor, suddenly, wasn’t guarded. Whatqueernegligence.Andonwhatdaywas it thatheescaped?Why,on thesamedaythatArvardanarrivedatChica.Asecondpeculiarcoincidence.”“Youthink,then...”saidtheHighMinistertensely.“IthinkthatSchwartzistheOutsideragentonEarth,thatShektisthecontact

manwiththeAssimilationisttraitorsamongus,andthatArvardanisthecontact

man with the Empire. Observe the skill with which the meeting betweenSchwartzandArvardanwasarranged.Schwartzisallowedtoescape,andafteran appropriate interval his nurse—Shekt’s daughter, by a not-too-surprisingadditionalcoincidence—isoutafterhim.Ifanythingweretogowrongwiththeirsplit-second timetable, it is obvious that shewould have found him suddenly;that he would have become a poor, sick patient for the benefit of anyone’scuriosity; that hewould have been brought back to safety for another attemptlater.Infact,twoovercuriouscabbiesweretoldthathewasasickman,andthat,ironicallyenough,backfireduponthem.“Follow it closely, now. Schwartz and Arvardan meet first in a Foodomat.

They are, apparently, unaware of each other’s existence. It is a preliminarymeeting,designed,simply,toindicatethatallhasgonewellsofarandthatthenext step may be taken. . . . At least they don’t underestimate us, which isgratifying.“ThenSchwartzleaves;afewminuteslaterArvardanleavesandtheShektgirl

meets him. It is stop-watch timing. Together, after playing a little part for thebenefit of the aforementioned cabbies, they head for the Dunham departmentstore,andnowallthreearetogether.Whereelsebutadepartmentstore?Itisanidealmeetingplace.Ithasasecrecynocavein themountainscouldduplicate.Tooopentobesuspected.Toocrowdedtobestalked.Wonderful—wonderful—Igivecredittomyopponent.”TheHighMinisterwrithed inhischair.“Ifouropponentdeserves toomuch

credit,hewillwin.”“Impossible.Heisalreadydefeated.Andinthatrespectwemustgivecreditto

theexcellentNatter.”“AndwhoisNatter?”“An insignificantagentwhomustbeused to the limitafter this.Hisactions

yesterday couldnot havebeen improvedupon.His long-range assignment hasbeen towatch Shekt. For the purpose, he keeps a fruit stand across the streetfromtheInstitute.ForthelastweekhehasbeenspecificallyinstructedtowatchthedevelopmentoftheSchwartzaffair.“He was on hand when the man, known to him through photographs and

throughaglimpseatthetimehewasfirstbroughttotheInstitute,escaped.Heobserved every action, himself unobserved, and it is his report that detailsyesterday’sevents.Withincredibleintuition,hedecidedthattheentirepurposeofthe‘escape’wastoarrangeameetingwithArvardan.Hefelthimselftobenotinaposition,single-handed,toexploitthatmeeting,sohedecidedtopreventit.The cabbies, to whom the Shekt girl had described Schwartz as being sick,speculatedonRadiationFever.Natterseizedonthatwiththeswiftnessofgenius.

Assoonasheobservedthemeetinginthedepartmentstore,hereportedthecaseof fever and the local authorities at Chica were, praised be Earth, intelligentenoughtoco-operatequickly.“Thestorewasemptied,andthecamouflagewhichtheycountedupontohide

their conversation was stripped from them. They were alone and veryconspicuous in the store.Natterwent further.He approached them and talkedthem into allowing him to escort Schwartz back to the Institute.They agreed.Whatcould theydo? . . .So that thedayendedwithoutasinglewordpassingbetweenArvardanandSchwartz.“Nor did he commit the folly of arresting Schwartz. The two are still in

ignoranceoftheirdetectionandwillyetleadustobiggergame.“AndNatterwent further still.Henotified the Imperialgarrison, and that is

beyondpraise.ItpresentedArvardanwithasituationhecouldnotpossiblyhavecountedupon.Hemusteither revealhimself tobeanOutsideranddestroyhisusefulness, which apparently depends upon conducting himself upon Earth asthoughhewereanEarthman,orhemustkeepthefactsecretandsubjecthimselftowhatever unpleasantnessmight result. He took themore heroic alternative,andevenbrokethearmofanofficerof theEmpire, inhispassionforrealism.That,atleast,mustberememberedinhisfavor.“It is significant that his actions were as they were. Why should he, an

Outsider, exposehimself to theneuronicwhip for anEarthgirl if thematter atstakewasnotsupremelyimportant?”Both fists of theHighMinisterwere on the desk before him.He glowered

savagely,thelong,smoothlinesofhisfacecrumpledindistress.“Itiswellforyou,Balkis,fromsuchmeagerdetails,toconstructthespiderwebyoudo.Itisskillfully done, and I feel that it is as you say. Logic leaves us no otheralternative....Butitmeansthattheyaretooclose,Balkis.Theyaretooclose....Andtheywillhavenomercythistime.”Balkis shrugged. “They cannot be too close, or, in a case of such potential

destructivenessforalltheEmpire,theywouldhavealreadystruck....Andtheirtimeisrunningshort.ArvardanmuststillmeetwithSchwartzifanythingistobeaccomplished,andsoIcanpredictforyouthefuture.”“Doso—doso.”“Schwartzmust be sent away now and events allowed to quiet down from

theircurrenthighpitch.”“Butwherewillhebesent?”“Weknowthattoo.SchwartzwasbroughttotheInstitutebyaman,obviously

afarmer.DescriptionsreachedusfrombothShekt’stechnicianandfromNatter.We went through the registration data of every farmer within sixty miles of

Chica, and Natter identified one Arbin Maren as the man. The techniciansupported that decision independently.We investigated themanquietly, and itseemsthatheissupportingafather-in-law,ahelplesscripple,inevasionoftheSixty.”TheHighMinisterpounded the table. “Suchcasesareentirely too frequent,

Balkis.Thelawsmustbetightened—”“It isnotnow thepoint,YourExcellency.What is important is the fact that

sincethefarmerisviolatingthecustoms,hecanbeblackmailed.”“Oh...”“Shekt,andhisOutsiderallies,needatoolforjustsuchacase—thatis,where

Schwartzmust remain in seclusion for a longerperiod thanhecan safely stayhiddenintheInstitute.Thisfarmer,probablyhelplessandinnocent,isperfectforthepurpose.Well,hewillbewatched.Schwartzwillneverbeoutofsight....Now, eventually another meeting between him and Arvardan will have to bearranged, and that time we will be prepared. Do you understand everythingnow?”“Ido.”“Well,praiseEarth.ThenIwillleaveyounow.”And,withasardonicsmile,

headded,“Withyourpermission,ofcourse.”AndtheHighMinister,completelyoblivioustothesarcasm,wavedahandin

dismissal.TheSecretary,onhiswaytohisownsmalloffice,wasalone,and,whenalone, his thoughts sometimes escaped from beneath his firm control anddisportedthemselvesinthesecrecyofhismind.TheyconcernedthemselvesverylittlewithDr.Shekt,Schwartz,Arvardan—

leastofallwiththeHighMinister.Insteadtherewasthepictureofaplanet,Trantor—fromwhosehuge,planet-

widemetropolisalltheGalaxywasruled.Andtherewasthepictureofapalacewhose spires and sweeping arches he had never seen in reality; that no otherEarthmanhad ever seen.He thought of the invisible lines of power andglorythatsweptfromsuntosuningatheringstrings,ropes,andcablestothatcentralpalaceandtothatabstraction,theEmperor,whowas,afterall,merelyaman.Hismindheld that thought fixedly—the thought of that powerwhich could

alone bestow a divinity during life—concentrated in one who was merelyhuman.Merelyhuman!Likehimself!Hecouldbe—

11

TheMindThatChanged

The coming of the change was dim in Joseph Schwartz’s mind. Manytimes,intheabsolutequietofthenight—howmuchmorequietthenightswerenow; were they ever noisy and bright and clanging with the life of energeticmillions?—inthenewquiet,hetraceditback.Hewouldhavelikedtosaythathere,herewasthemoment.Therewasfirstthatold,shatteringdayoffearwhenhewasaloneinastrange

world—adayasmistyinhismindnowasthememoryofChicagoitself.Therewas the trip toChica, and its strange, complicated ending.He thought of thatoften.Something about a machine—pills he had taken. Days of recuperation and

then the escape, the wandering, the inexplicable events that last hour in thedepartmentstore.Hecouldn’tpossiblyrememberthatpartcorrectly.Yet,inthetwomonthssince,howcleareverythingwas,howunfaultedhismemory.Even then, things had begun to seem strange. He had been sensitive to

atmosphere.Theolddoctorandhisdaughterhadbeenuneasy,evenfrightened.Hadheknownthatthen?Orhaditjustbeenafugitiveimpression,strengthenedbythehindsightofhisthoughtssince?Butthen,inthedepartmentstore,justbeforethatbigmanhadreachedoutand

trappedhim—justbeforethat—hehadbecomeconsciousofthecomingsnatch.The warning had not been soon enough to save him, but it was a definiteindicationofthechange.

And,sincethen, theheadaches.No,notquiteheadaches.Throbbings,rather,as though somehidden dynamo in his brain had startedworking and,with itsunaccustomed action, was vibrating every bone of his skull. There had beennothinglikeitinChicago—supposinghisfantasyofChicagohadmeaning—orevenduringhisfirstfewdayshereinreality.HadtheydonesomethingtohimthatdayinChica?Themachine?Thepills—

thathadbeenanesthetic.Anoperation?Andhis thoughts, having reached thatpointforthehundredthtime,stoppedoncemore.HehadleftChicathedayafterhisabortiveescape,andnowthedayspassed

easily.There had been Grew in his wheel chair, repeating words and pointing, or

makingmotions,justasthegirl,Pola,haddonebeforehim.UntilonedayGrewstopped speaking nonsense and began talkingEnglish.Or no, he himself—he,Joseph Schwartz—had stopped speaking English and had begun talkingnonsense.Exceptthatitwasn’tnonsense,anymore.Itwassoeasy.Helearnedtoreadinfourdays.Hesurprisedhimself.Hehad

hadaphenomenalmemoryonce, inChicago,or it seemed tohim thathehad.Buthehadnotbeencapableofsuchfeats.YetGrewdidnotseemsurprised.Schwartzgaveitup.Then,when the autumn had become really golden, thingswere clear again,

andhewasoutinthefieldsworking.Itwasamazing,thewayhepickeditup.Thereitwasagain—henevermadeamistake.Therewerecomplicatedmachinesthathecouldrunwithouttroubleafterasingleexplanation.Hewaitedforthecoldweatheranditneverquitecame.Thewinterwasspent

inclearingground,infertilizing,inpreparingforthespringplantinginadozenways.HequestionedGrew,triedtoexplainwhatsnowwas,butthelatteronlystared

andsaid,“Frozenwaterfallinglikerain,eh?Oh!Thewordfor that issnow!IunderstanditdoesthatonotherplanetsbutnotonEarth.”Schwartzwatchedthetemperaturethereafterandfoundthatitscarcelyvaried

from day to day—and yet the days shortened, as would be expected from anortherlylocation,sayasnortherlyasChicago.HewonderedifhewasonEarth.HetriedreadingsomeofGrew’sbookfilmsbutgaveup.Peoplewerepeople

still, but the minutiae of daily life, the knowledge of which was taken forgranted, the historical and sociological allusions that meant nothing to him,forcedhimback.The puzzles continued. The uniformlywarm rains, the wild instructions he

receivedtoremainawayfromcertainregions.For instance, therehadbeentheeveningthathehadfinallybecometoointriguedbytheshininghorizon,theblue

glowtothesouth...Hehadslippedoffaftersupper,andwhennotamilehadpassed, thealmost

noiseless whir of the biwheel engine came up behind him and Arbin’s angryshoutrangoutintheeveningair.Hehadstoppedandhadbeentakenback.Arbinhadpacedbackandforthbeforehimandhadsaid,“Youmuststayaway

fromanywherethatitshinesatnight.”Schwartzhadaskedmildly,“Why?”Andtheanswercamewithbitingincision,“Becauseit isforbidden.”A long

pause,then,“Youreallydon’tknowwhatit’slikeoutthere,Schwartz?”Schwartzspreadhishands.Arbinsaid,“Wheredoyoucomefrom?Areyouan—anOutsider?”“What’sanOutsider?”Arbinshruggedandleft.ButthatnighthadhadagreatimportanceforSchwartz,foritwasduringthat

shortmiletowardtheshiningnessthatthestrangenessinhismindhadcoalescedintotheMindTouch.Itwaswhathecalledit,andtheclosesthehadcome,eitherthenorthereafter,todescribingit.He had been alone in the darkling purple. His own footsteps against the

springy pavement were muted. He hadn’t seen anybody. He hadn’t heardanybody.Hehadn’ttouchedanything.Notexactly...Ithadbeensomething likeatouch,butnotanywhereonhis

body. It was in his mind. . . . Not exactly a touch, but a presence—asomethingnesstherelikeavelvetytickle.Thentherehadbeentwo—twotouches,distinct,apart.Andthesecond—how

couldhetellthemapart?—hadgrownlouder(no,thatwasn’ttherightword);ithadgrowndistincter,moredefinite.AndthenheknewitwasArbin.Heknewitfiveminutes,at least,beforehe

caughtthesoundofthebiwheel,tenminutesbeforehelaideyesonArbin.Thereafteritoccurredagainandagainwithincreasingfrequency.ItbegantodawnonhimthathealwaysknewwhenArbin,Loa,orGrewwas

withinahundredfeetofhimself,evenwhenhehadnoreasonforknowing,evenwhenhehadeveryreasontosupposetheopposite.Itwasahardthingtotakeforgranted,yetitbegantoseemsonatural.Heexperimented,andfoundthatheknewexactlywhereanyofthemwere,at

anytime.Hecoulddistinguishbetweenthem,fortheMindTouchdifferedfrompersontoperson.Notoncehadhethenervetomentionittotheothers.Andsometimeshewouldwonderwhat that firstMindTouchon theroad to

theShiningnesshadbeen.IthadbeenneitherArbin,Loa,norGrew.Well?Diditmakeadifference?

It did later. He had come across the Touch again, the same one, when hebroughtinthecattleoneevening.HecametoArbinthenandsaid:“WhataboutthatpatchofwoodspasttheSouthHills,Arbin?”“Nothingaboutit,”wasthegruffanswer.“It’sMinisterialGround.”“What’sthat?”Arbin seemed annoyed. “It’s of no importance to you, is it? They call it

MinisterialGroundbecauseitisthepropertyoftheHighMinister.”“Whyisn’titcultivated?”“It’snotintendedforthat.”Arbin’svoicewasshocked.“ItwasagreatCenter.

Inancientdays.Itisverysacredandmustnotbedisturbed.Look,Schwartz,ifyouwanttoremainheresafely,curbyourcuriosityandtendtoyourjob.”“Butifit’ssosacred,thennobodycanlivethere?”“Exactly.You’reright.”“Areyousure?”“I’msure....Andyou’renottotrespass.Itwillmeantheendforyou.”“Iwon’t.”Schwartzwalkedaway,wonderingandoddlyuneasy.Itwasfromthatwooded

ground that the Mind Touch came, quite powerfully, and now somethingadditional had been added to the sensation. It was an unfriendly Touch, athreateningTouch.Why?Why?And still he dared not speak. They would not have believed him, and

somethingunpleasantwouldhappentohimasaconsequence.Heknewthattoo.Heknewtoomuch,infact.Hewas younger these days, also.Not somuch in the physical sense, to be

sure.Hewas thinner inhisstomachandbroader inhisshoulders.Hismuscleswere harder and springier and his digestionwas better. Thatwas the result ofworkintheopen.Butitwassomethingelsehewaschieflyconsciousof.Itwashiswayofthinking.Oldmentend toforgetwhat thoughtwas like in theiryouth; theyforget the

quicknessofthementaljump,thedaringoftheyouthfulintuition,theagilityofthe fresh insight. They become accustomed to the more plodding varieties ofreason, and because this is more than made up by the accumulation ofexperience,oldmenthinkthemselveswiserthantheyoung.ButtoSchwartzexperienceremained,anditwaswithasharpdelightthathe

foundhecouldunderstandthingsatabound,thathegraduallyprogressedfromfollowingArbin’sexplanations toanticipating them, to leapingonahead.Asaresult, he felt young in a far more subtle way than any amount of physicalexcellencecouldaccountfor.

Twomonthspassed,anditallcameout—overagameofchesswithGrewinthearbor.Chess,somehow,hadn’tchanged,exceptforthenamesofthepieces.Itwasas

herememberedit,andthereforeitwasalwaysacomforttohim.Atleast,inthisonerespect,hispoormemorydidnotplayhimfalse.Grewtoldhimofvariationsofchess.Therewasfour-handedchess,inwhich

eachplayerhadaboard, touchingeachotherat thecorners,witha fifthboardfillingthehollowinthecenterasacommonNoMan’sLand.Therewerethree-dimensionalchessgamesinwhicheighttransparentboardswereplacedoneovertheotherand inwhicheachpiecemovedin threedimensionsas theyformerlymovedintwo,andinwhichthenumberofpiecesandpawnsweredoubled,thewin coming only when a simultaneous check of both enemy kings occurred.There were even the popular varieties, in which the original position of thechessmenweredecidedbythrowsofthedice,orwherecertainsquaresconferredadvantagesordisadvantagestothepiecesuponthem,orwherenewpieceswithstrangepropertieswereintroduced.But chess itself, the original and unchangeable, was the same—and the

tournamentbetweenSchwartzandGrewhadcompleteditsfirstfiftygames.Schwartzhadabareknowledgeofthemoveswhenhebegan,sothathelost

constantly in the first games. But that had changed and losing games werebecoming rarer. Gradually Grew had grown slow and cautious, had taken tosmokinghispipeintoglowingembersintheintervalsbetweenmoves,andhadfinallysubsidedintorebelliousandquerulouslosses.GrewwasWhiteandhispawnwasalreadyonKing4.“Let’sgo,”heurgedsourly.Histeethwereclampedhardonhispipeandhis

eyeswerealreadysearchingtheboardtensely.Schwartztookhisseatinthegatheringtwilightandsighed.Thegameswere

reallybecominguninterestingasmoreandmorehebecameawareofthenatureof Grew’s moves before they could be made. It was as if Grew had a mistywindowinhisskull.Andthefactthathehimselfknew,almostinstinctively,theproper courseof chess play to takewas simplyof a piecewith the rest of hisproblem.They used a “night-board,” one that glowed in the darkness in a checkered

blue-and-orangeglimmer.Thepieces,ordinarylumpishfiguresofareddishclayin the sunlight, were metamorphosed at night. Half were bathed in a creamywhiteness that lent themthe lookofcoldandshiningporcelain,and theotherssparkedintinyglittersofred.The first moves were rapid. Schwartz’s own King’s Pawn met the enemy

advance head on.Grew brought out hisKing’sKnight toBishop 3; Schwartz

counteredwithQueen’sKnight toBishop3.Then theWhiteBishop leaped toQueen’sKnight5,andSchwartz’sQueen’sRook’sPawnslidaheadasquaretodriveitbacktoRook4.HethenadvancedhisotherKnighttoBishop3.Theshiningpiecesslidacrosstheboardwithaneeryvolitionoftheirownas

thegraspingfingerslostthemselvesinthenight.Schwartzwasfrightened.Hemightberevealinginsanity,buthehadtoknow.

Hesaidabruptly,“WhereamI?”Grew lookedup in themidstofadeliberatemoveofhisQueen’sKnight to

Bishop3andsaid,“What?”Schwartz didn’t know theword for “country,” or “nation.” He said, “What

worldisthis?”andmovedhisBishoptoKing2.“Earth,”was theshort reply,andGrewcastledwithgreatemphasis, first the

tall figurine thatwas theKing,moving, and then the lumpishRook topping itandrestingontheotherside.That was a thoroughly unsatisfactory answer. The word Grew had used

Schwartztranslatedinhismindas“Earth.”Butwhatwas“Earth”?Anyplanetis“Earth” to those that live on it. He advanced hisQueen’sKnight’s Pawn twospaces, and again Grew’s Bishop had to retreat, to Knight 3 this time. ThenSchwartzandGrew,each in turn,advanced theQueen’sPawnonespace,eachfreeinghisBishopforthebattleinthecenterthatwassoontobegin.Schwartzasked,ascalmlyandcasuallyashecould,“Whatyearisthis?”He

castled.Grew paused. He might have been startled. “What is it you’re harping on

today?Don’tyouwanttoplay?Ifitwillmakeyouhappy,thisis827.”Headdedsarcastically, “G.E.” He stared frowningly at the board, then slammed hisQueen’sKnighttoQueen5,whereitmadeitsfirstassault.Schwartz dodged quickly, moving his own Queen’s Knight to Rook 4 in

counterattack.Theskirmishwasoninearnest.Grew’sKnightseizedtheBishop,whichleapedupwardinabathofredfiretobedroppedwithasharpclickintotheboxwhere itmight lie,aburiedwarrior,until thenextgame.Andthen theconquering Knight fell instantly to Schwartz’s Queen. In a moment ofovercaution,Grew’sattackfalteredandhemovedhisremainingKnightbacktothehavenofKing1,whereitwasrelativelyuseless.Schwartz’sQueen’sKnightnowrepeatedthefirstexchange,takingtheBishopandfallingpreyinitsturntotheRook’sPawn.Nowanotherpause,andSchwartzaskedmildly,“What’sG.E.?”“What?” demanded Grew bad-humoredly. “Oh—you mean you’re still

wonderingwhat year this is?Of all the fool—Well, I keep forgettingyou justlearnedtotalkamonthorsoago.Butyou’reintelligent.Don’tyoureallyknow?

Well,it’s827oftheGalacticEra.GalacticEra:G.E.—see?It’s827yearssincethe foundation of the Galactic Empire; 827 years since the coronation ofFrankenntheFirst.Now,please,it’syourmove.”ButtheKnightthatSchwartzheldwasswallowedupinthegripofhishand

forthemoment.Hewasinafuryoffrustration.Hesaid,“Justoneminute,”andput the Knight down on Queen 2. “Do you recognize any of these names?America, Asia, the United States, Russia, Europe—” He groped foridentification.InthedarknessGrew’spipewasasullenredglowandthedimshadowofhim

hunched over the shining chessboard as if it had the less life of the two. Hemight have shakenhis head curtly, butSchwartz couldnot see that.Hedidn’thaveto.Hesensedtheother’snegationasclearlyasthoughaspeechhadbeendelivered.Schwartztriedagain.“DoyouknowwhereIcangetamap?”“Nomaps,”growledGrew,“unlessyouwanttoriskyourneckinChica.I’m

nogeographer.Ineverheardofthenamesyoumention,either.Whatarethey?People?”Risk his neck? Why that? Schwartz felt the coldness gather. Had he

committedacrime?DidGrewknowaboutit?Heaskeddoubtfully,“Thesunhasnineplanets,hasn’tit?”“Ten,”wastheuncompromisinganswer.Schwartzhesitated.Well, theymight havediscoveredanother thathehadn’t

heardabout.ButthenwhyshouldGrewhaveheardaboutit?Hecountedonhisfingers,andthen,“Howaboutthesixthplanet?Hasitgotrings?”GrewwasslowlymovingtheKing’sBishop’sPawnforwardtwosquares,and

Schwartzinstantlydidthesame.Grew said, “Saturn, youmean?Of course it has rings.”Hewas calculating

now.HehadthechoiceoftakingeithertheBishop’sPawnortheKing’sPawn,andtheconsequencesofthechoicewerenottooclear.“And is there an asteroid belt—little planets—betweenMars and Jupiter? I

meanbetweenthefourthandfifthplanets?”“Yes,” mumbled Grew. He was relighting his pipe and thinking feverishy.

Schwartzcaughtthatagonizeduncertaintyandwasannoyedatit.Tohim,nowthat he was sure of Earth’s identity, the chess game was less than a trifle.Questionsquiveredalongtheinnersurfaceofhisskull,andoneslippedout.“Yourbookfilmsarereal,then?Thereareotherworlds?Withpeople?”And now Grew looked up from the board, eyes probing uselessly in the

darkness.“Areyouserious?”“Arethere?”

“BytheGalaxy!Ibelieveyoureallydon’tknow.”Schwartzfelthumiliatedinhisignorance.“Please—”“Ofcoursethereareworlds.Millionsofthem!Everystaryouseehasworlds,

andmostofthoseyoudon’tsee.It’sallpartoftheEmpire.”Delicately, inside, Schwartz felt the faint echo of each of Grew’s intense

words as they sparked directly from mind to mind. Schwartz felt the mentalcontactsgrowingstrongerwiththedays.Maybe,soon,hecouldhearthosetinywordsinhismindevenwhenthepersonthinkingthemwasn’ttalking.And now, for the first time, he finally thought of an alternative to insanity.

Hadhepassedthroughtime,somehow?Sleptthrough,perhaps?Hesaidhuskily,“Howlongsinceit’sallhappened,Grew?Howlongsincethe

timewhentherewasonlyoneplanet?”“Whatdoyoumean?”Hewassuddenlycautious.“Areyouamemberofthe

Ancients?”“Ofthewhat?I’mnotamemberofanything,butwasn’tEarthoncetheonly

planet?...Well,wasn’tit?”“The Ancients say so,” said Grew grimly, “but who knows? Who really

knows? The worlds up there have been existing all history long as far as Iknow.”“Buthowlongisthat?”“Thousandsofyears,Isuppose.Fiftythousand,ahundred—Ican’tsay.”Thousandsofyears!Schwartzfeltagurgleinhisthroatandpresseditdownin

panic.Allthatbetweentwosteps?Abreath,amoment,aflickeroftime—andhehadjumpedthousandsofyears?Hefelthimselfshrinkingbacktoamnesia.Hisidentification of the Solar System must have been the result of imperfectmemoriespenetratingthemist.But now Grew was making his next move—he was taking the other’s

Bishop’sPawn,anditwasalmostmechanicallythatSchwartznotedmentallythefact that itwas thewrongchoice.Movefitted tomovenowwithnoconsciouseffort. His King’s Rook swooped forward to take the foremost of the now-doubledWhitePawns.White’sKnightadvancedagaintoBishop3.Schwartz’sBishop moved to Knight 2, freeing itself for action. Grew followed suit bymovinghisownBishoptoQueen2.Schwartz paused before launching the final attack. He said, “Earth is boss,

isn’tit?”“Bossofwhat?”“OftheEmp—”ButGrewlookedupwitharoaratwhichthechessmenquivered.“Listen,you,

I’mtiredofyourquestions.Areyouacompletefool?DoesEarthlookasifit’s

bossofanything?”TherewasasmoothwhirasGrew’swheelchaircircledthetable.Schwartzfeltgraspingfingersonhisarm.“Look! Look there!” Grew’s voice was a whispered rasp. “You see the

horizon?Youseeitshine?”“Yes.”“ThatisEarth—allEarth.Excepthereandthere,whereafewpatcheslikethis

oneexist.”“Idon’tunderstand.”“Earth’s crust is radioactive. The soil glows, always glowed, will glow

forever.Nothingcangrow.Noonecanlive—Youreallydidn’tknowthat?WhydoyousupposewehavetheSixty?”Theparalytic subsided.Hecircledhischairabout the tableagain.“It’syour

move.”The Sixty! Again a Mind Touch with an indefinable aura of menace.

Schwartz’schesspiecesplayed themselves,whilehewonderedabout itwithatight-pressed heart.HisKing’s Pawn took the opposingBishop’s Pawn.GrewmovedhisKnight toQueen4 andSchwartz’sRook side-stepped the attack toKnight4.AgainGrew’sKnight attacked,moving toBishop3, andSchwartz’sRookavoidedtheissueagaintoKnight5.ButnowGrew’sKing’sRook’sPawnadvancedonetimoroussquareandSchwartz’sRookslashedforward.IttooktheKnight’sPawn,checkingtheenemyKing.Grew’sKingpromptlytooktheRook,but Schwartz’s Queen plugged the hole instantly, moving to Knight 4 andchecking.Grew’sKingscurriedtoRook1,andSchwartzbroughtuphisKnight,placing itonKing4.GrewmovedhisQueen toKing2 ina strongattempt tomobilizehisdefenses,andSchwartzcounteredbymarchinghisQueenforwardtwosquarestoKnight6,sothatthefightwasnowinclosequarters.Grewhadnochoice;hemovedhisQueentoKnight2,andthetwofemalemajestieswerenowfacetoface.Schwartz’sKnightpressedhome,takingtheopposingKnightonBishop6,andwhenthenow-attackedWhiteBishopmovedquicklytoBishop3, the Knight followed to Queen 5. Grew hesitated for slow minutes, thenadvancedhisoutflankedQueenupthelongdiagonaltotakeSchwartz’sBishop.Thenhepausedanddrewarelievedbreath.HisslyopponenthadaRookin

dangerwithacheckintheoffingandhisownQueenreadytowreakhavoc.AndhewasaheadaRooktoaPawn.“Yourmove,”hesaidwithsatisfaction.Schwartzsaidfinally,“What—whatistheSixty?”There was a sharp unfriendliness to Grew’s voice. “Why do you ask that?

Whatareyouafter?”“Please,”humbly.Hehadlittlespiritleftinhim.“Iamamanwithnoharmin

me. I don’t knowwho I amorwhat happened tome.Maybe I’m an amnesiacase.”“Verylikely,”wasthecontemptuousreply.“AreyouescapingfromtheSixty?

Answertruthfully.”“ButItellyouIdon’tknowwhattheSixtyis!”It carried conviction. Therewas a long silence. To Schwartz, Grew’sMind

Touchwasominous,buthecouldnot,quite,makeoutwords.Grew said slowly, “The Sixty is your sixtieth year. Earth supports twenty

millionpeople,nomore.Tolive,youmustproduce.Ifyoucannotproduce,youcannotlive.PastSixty—youcannotproduce.”“Andso...”Schwartz’smouthremainedopen.“You’reputaway.Itdoesn’thurt.”“You’rekilled?”“It’snotmurder,”stiffly.“Itmustbethatway.Otherworldswon’ttakeus,and

wemustmakeroomforthechildrensomeway.Theoldergenerationmustmakeroomfortheyounger.”“Supposeyoudon’ttellthemyou’resixty?”“Why shouldn’t you?Life after sixty is no joke. . . .And there’s aCensus

every tenyears to catch anyonewho is foolish enough to try to live.Besides,theyhaveyourageonrecord.”“Notmine.”Thewords slippedout.Schwartz couldn’t stop them. “Besides,

I’monlyfifty—nextbirthday.”“Itdoesn’tmatter.Theycancheckbyyourbone structure.Don’tyouknow

that?There’snowayofmaskingit.They’llgetmenexttime....Say,it’syourmove.”Schwartzdisregardedtheurging.“Youmeanthey’ll—”“Sure,I’monlyfifty-five,butlookatmylegs.Ican’twork,canI?Thereare

threeofusregisteredinourfamily,andourquotaisadjustedonabasisofthreeworkers.WhenIhadthestrokeIshouldhavebeenreported,andthenthequotawouldhavebeenreduced.ButIwouldhavegottenaprematureSixty,andArbinandLoawouldn’tdoit.They’refools,becauseithasmeanthardworkforthem—tillyoucamealong.Andthey’llgetmenextyear,anyway....Yourmove.”“IsnextyeartheCensus?”“That’sright....Yourmove.”“Wait!”urgently.“Iseveryoneputawayaftersixty?Noexceptionsatall?”“Notforyouandme.TheHighMinisterlivesafulllife,andmembersofthe

Society ofAncients; certain scientists or those performing somegreat service.Notmanyqualify.Maybeadozenayear....It’syourmove!”“Whodecideswhoqualifies?”

“TheHighMinister,ofcourse.Areyoumoving?”But Schwartz stood up. “Never mind. It’s checkmate in five moves. My

QueenisgoingtotakeyourPawntocheckyou;you’vegottomovetoKnight1;IbringuptheKnighttocheckyouatKing2;youmustmovetoBishop2;myQueen checks you atKing6; youmustmove toKnight 2;myQueengoes toKnight6,andwhenyou’rethenforcedtoRook1,myQueenmatesyouatRook6.“Goodgame,”headdedautomatically.Grewstaredlongattheboard,then,withacry,dasheditfromthetable.The

gleamingpiecesrolleddejectedlyaboutonthelawn.“Youandyourdamneddistractingchatter,”yelledGrew.But Schwartz was conscious of nothing. Nothing except the overwhelming

necessityofescapingtheSixty.ForthoughBrowningsaid:

Growoldalongwithme!Thebestisyettobe...

thatwasinanEarthofteemingbillionsandofunlimitedfood.ThebestthatwasnowtobewastheSixty—anddeath.Schwartzwassixty-two.Sixty-two...

12

TheMindThatKilled

Itworkedoutsoneatly inSchwartz’smethodicalmind.Sincehedidnotwant to die, hewould have to leave the farm. If he stayedwhere hewas, theCensuswouldcome,andwithit,death.Leavethefarm,then.Butwherewouldhego?Therewas the—whatwas it, a hospital?—inChica.Theyhad taken care of

himbefore.Andwhy?Becausehehadbeenamedical“case.”Butwasn’thestilla case?And he could talk now; he could give them the symptoms,which hecouldn’tbefore.HecouldeventellthemabouttheMindTouch.OrdideveryonehavetheMindTouch?Wasthereanywayhecouldtell?...

Noneoftheothershadit.NotArbinorLoaorGrew.Heknewthat.Theyhadnowayoftellingwherehewasunlesstheysaworheardhim.Why,hecouldn’tbeatGrewinchessifGrewcould—Wait,now,chesswasapopulargame.Anditcouldn’tbeplayedifpeoplehad

theMindTouch.Notreally.Sothatmadehimapeculiarity—apsychologicalspecimen.Itmightnotbea

particularlygaylife,beingaspecimen,butitwouldkeephimalive.Andsupposeoneconsideredthenewpossibilitythathadjustarisen.Suppose

hewerenotanamnesiacbutamanwhohadstumbledthroughtime.Why,then,inadditiontotheMindTouch,hewasamanfromthepast.Hewasahistoricalspecimen,anarchaeologicalspecimen;theycouldn’tkillhim.Iftheybelievedhim.

Hmm,iftheybelievedhim.Thatdoctorwouldbelieve.Hehadneededa shave thatmorningArbin took

himtoChica.Herememberedthatverywell.Afterthathishairnevergrew,sotheymusthavedonesomethingtohim.Thatmeantthatthedoctorknewthathe—he,Schwartz—hadhadhaironhis face.Wouldn’t thatbe significant?GrewandArbinnevershaved.Grewhadoncetoldhimthatonlyanimalshadhairontheirface.Sohehadtogettothedoctor.Whatwashisname?Shekt?...Shekt,thatwasright.

But he knew so little of this horrible world. To leave by night or cross-countrywouldhaveentangledhim inmysteries,wouldhaveplungedhim intoradioactivedangerpocketsofwhichheknewnothing.So,withtheboldnessofonewithnochoice,hestruckoutuponthehighwayintheearlyafternoon.Theywouldn’tbeexpectinghimbackbeforesuppertime,andbythattimehe

wouldbewellaway.TheywouldhavenoMindTouchtomiss.For the first half hour he experienced a feeling of elation, the first such

sensationhehadhadsinceallthishadstarted.Hewasfinallydoingsomething;hewasmakinganattempt to fightbackathis environment.Somethingwithapurpose,andnotmereunreasoningflightasthattimeinChica.Ah,foranoldmanhewasn’tbad.He’dshowthem.And then he stopped—He stopped in the middle of the highway, because

somethingobtrudeditselfuponhisnotice,somethinghehadforgotten.TherewasthestrangeMindTouch,theunknownMindTouch;theonehehad

detected first when he had tried to reach the shining horizon and had beenstoppedbyArbin;theonethathadbeenwatchingfromtheMinisterialGround.Itwaswithhimnow—behindhimandwatching.He listened closely—or, at least, he did that which was the equivalent of

listeningwithregardtotheMindTouch.Itcamenocloser,but itwasfasteneduponhimself.Ithadwithinitwatchfulnessandenmity,butnotdesperation.Other thingsbecameclear.Thefollowermustnot losesightofhim,and the

followerwasarmed.Cautiously, almostautomatically,Schwartz turned,pickingapart thehorizon

witheagereyes.AndtheMindTouchchangedinstantly.Itbecamedoubtfulandcautious,dubiousastoitsownsafety,andthesuccess

ofitsownproject,whateverthatwas.Thefactofthefollower’sweaponsbecamemoreprominent,asthoughhewerespeculatinguponusingitiftrapped.

Schwartzknewthathehimselfwasunarmedandhelpless.Heknewthat thefollowerwouldkillhimratherthanallowhimtogetoutofsight;killhimatthefirstfalsemove....Andhesawnoone.SoSchwartzwalkedon,knowingthathisfollowerremainedcloseenoughto

killhim.Hisbackwasstiffintheanticipationofheknewnotwhat.Howdoesdeathfeel?...Howdoesdeathfeel?...Thethoughtjostledhimintimetohissteps,jouncedinhismind,jiggledinhissubconscious,untilitwentnearlypastendurance.Heheldontothefollower’sMindTouchastheonesalvation.Hewoulddetect

that instant’s increase in tension that would mean that a weapon was beingleveled,atriggerbeingpulled,acontactbeingclosed.Atthatinstanthewoulddrop,hewouldrun—Butwhy?IfitweretheSixty,whynotkillhimoutofhand?The time-slip theorywas fading out in hismind; amnesia again. Hewas a

criminal,perhaps—adangerousman,whomustbewatched.Maybehehadoncebeenahighofficial,whocouldnotbesimplykilledbutmustbetried.Perhapshisamnesiawasthemethodusedbyhisunconscioustoescapetherealizationofsometremendousguilt.And so now he was walking down an empty highway toward a doubtful

destination,withdeathwalkingathisback.Itwas growingdark, and the wind had a dying chill to it. As usual, itdidn’t seem right. Schwartz judged it to beDecember, and certainly sunset atfour-thirty was right for it, but the wind’s chill was not the iciness of amidwesternwinter.Schwartzhadlongdecidedthatthereasonfortheprevalentmildnesswasthat

the planet (Earth?) did not depend on the sun entirely for its heat. Theradioactive soil itself gave off heat, small by the square foot but huge by themillionsquaremiles.And in the darkness the follower’sMindTouch grewnearer. Still attentive,

and keyed up to a gamble. In the darkness, following was harder. He hadfollowedhimthatfirstnight—towardtheshiningness.Washeafraidtotaketheriskagain?“Hey!Hey,fella—”Itwasanasal,high-pitchedvoice.Schwartzfroze.Slowly, in onepiece, he turned around.The small figure comingup to him

waveditshand,butinthesunlesstimeofdayhecouldnotmakeitoutclearly.Itapproached,unhurrying.Hewaited.

“Hey, there. Glad to see you. It ain’t much fun beating it along the roadwithoutcompany.MindifIgoalongwithyou?”“Hello,” said Schwartz dully. It was the correct Mind Touch. It was the

follower.Andthefacewasfamiliar.Itbelongedtothathazytime,inChica.Andthenthefollowergaveeverysignofrecognition.“Say,Iknowyou.Sure!

...Don’tyourememberme?”Itwas impossible forSchwartz tosaywhetherunderordinaryconditions, in

another time,hemightormightnothavebelieved theother tobesincere.Butnowhowcouldheavoidseeingthat thin,raggedlayerofsyntheticrecognitionthatoverlay thedeepcurrentsof aTouch that toldhim—shoutedathim—thatthelittlemanwiththeverysharpeyeshadknownhimfromthestart?Knewhimandhadadeathweaponreadyforhim,ifnecessary.Schwartzshookhishead.“Sure,”insistedthelittleman.“Itwasinthedepartmentstore.Igotyouaway

from thatmob.”He seemed to double up in artificial laughter. “They thoughtyouhadRadiationFever.Youremember.”Schwartzdid,too,vaguely—dimly.Amanlikethis,forafewminutes,anda

crowd,whichhadfirststoppedthemandthenpartedforthem.“Yes,”he said. “Pleased tomeet you.” Itwasn’t verybrilliant conversation,

butSchwartzcoulddonobetter,andthelittlemandidnotseemtomind.“Myname’sNatter,”hesaid,shovingouta limphandat theother.“Ididn’t

getachancetotalkmuchwithyouthatfirsttime—overlookeditinthecrisisofthings,youmightsay—butI’msuregladtogetasecondchance....Let’shavethemitt.”“I’mSchwartz.”Andhetouchedpalmswiththeother,briefly.“Howcomeyou’rewalking?”askedNatter.“Goingsomewheres?”Schwartzshrugged.“Justwalking.”“Ahiker,huh?That’sformetoo.AllyearroundI’montheroad—putstheold

kiboshonthegrummlies.”“What?”“You know.Makes you full of life.You get to breathe that air and feel the

bloodpumping,hey?...Walkedtoofarthistime.Hatetogetbackafternightbymylonesome.Alwaysgladforthecompany.Whereyougoing?”Itwas the second timeNatter had asked the question, and theMindTouch

madeplaintheimportanceattachedtoit.Schwartzwonderedhowlonghecouldevadetheissue.Therewasaquestinganxietyinthefollower’smind.Andnoliewoulddo.Schwartzdidn’tknowenoughaboutthisnewworldtolie.Hesaid,“I’mgoingtothehospital.”“Thehospital?Whathospital?”

“IwastherewhenIwasinChica.”“Youmean the Institute.Ain’t that it? That’swhere I took you before, that

timeinthedepartmentstore,Imean.”Anxietyandincreasingtension.“ToDr.Shekt,”saidSchwartz.“Doyouknowhim?”“I’veheardofhim.He’sabigshot.Areyousick?”“No,butI’msupposedtoreportonceinawhile.”Didthatsoundreasonable?“Walking?”saidNatter.“Doesn’thesendacarforyou?”Apparentlyitdidnot

seemreasonable.Schwartzsaidnothingnow—aclammysilence.Natter, however, was buoyant. “Look here, chum, soon’s I pass a public

Communi-wave,I’llorderataxifromthecity.It’llmeetusontheroad.”“ACommuni-wave?”“Sure.Theyhave’emallalongthehighway.See,there’sone.”HetookastepawayfromSchwartz,andthelatterfoundhimselfinasudden

shriek.“Stop!Don’tmove.”Natter stopped. Therewas a queer coldness in his expression as he turned.

“What’seatingyou,bud?”Schwartz found the new language almost inadequate for the rapidity with

whichhehurledwordsattheother.“I’mtiredofthisacting.Iknowyou,andIknowwhatyou’regoingtodo.You’regoingtocallsomebodytotellthemI’mgoingtoDr.Shekt.They’llbereadyformeinthecityandthey’llsendoutacartopickmeup.Andyou’llkillmeifItrytogetaway.”Therewasa frownonNatter’s face.Hemuttered, “You’re sure righton the

gizzbowiththatlast—”ItwasnotintendedforSchwartz’sears,nordiditreachthem,butthewordsrestedlightlyontheverysurfaceofhisMindTouch.Aloudhe said, “Mister, you’ve gotme confused.You’re shoving a fast one

rightpastmynose.”Buthewasmakingroom,andhishandwasdriftingtowardhiship.And Schwartz lost control of himself. He waved his arms in a wild fury.

“Leavemealone,whydon’tyou?WhathaveIdonetoyou?...Goaway!Goaway!”Heendedinavoice-crackedshriek,hisforeheadridgedwithhateandfearof

thecreaturewhostalkedhimandwhosemindwassoalivewithenmity.Hisownemotions heaved and thrust at the Mind Touch, attempting to evade theclingingnessofit,riditselfofthebreathofit—And it was gone. Suddenly and completely gone. There had been the

momentary consciousness of overwhelming pain—not in himself, but in theother—thennothing.NoMindTouch.Ithaddroppedawaylikethegripofafistgrowinglaxanddead.

Natter was a crumpled smear on the darkening highway. Schwartz crepttowardhim.Natterwasalittleman,easytoturnover.Thelookofagonyonhisfacemighthavebeen stampedon, deeply, deeply.The lines remained, didnotrelax.Schwartzfeltfortheheartbeatanddidnotfindit.Hestraightenedinadelugeofself-horror.Hehadmurderedaman!Anthenadelugeofamazement—Withouttouchinghim!Hehadkilledthismanjustbyhatinghim,bystriking

somehowattheMindTouch.Whatotherpowersdidhehave?Hemadeaquickdecision.Hesearchedtheother’spocketsandfoundmoney.

Good!Hecouldusethat.Thenhedraggedthecorpseintothefieldsandletthehighgrasscoverit.Hewalkedonfortwohours.NootherMindTouchdisturbedhim.He slept in an open field that night, and the nextmorning, after two hours

more,reachedtheoutskirtsofChica.ChicawasonlyavillagetoSchwartz,andbycomparisonwiththeChicagohe

remembered,themotionofthepopulacewasstillthinandsporadic.Evenso,theMindToucheswereforthefirsttimenumerous.Theyamazedandconfusedhim.Somany!Somedrifting and diffuse; somepointed and intense.Therewere

men who passed with their minds popping in tiny explosions; others withnothinginsidetheirskullsbut,perhaps,agentleruminationonthebreakfastjustcompleted.At first Schwartz turned and jumped with every Touch that passed, taking

eachasapersonalcontact;butwithinthehourhelearnedtoignorethem.Hewashearingwordsnow,evenwhentheywerenotactuallymouthed.This

was something new, and he found himself listening. They were thin, eeryphrases, disconnected andwind-whipped; far off, far off . . . Andwith them,living, crawling emotion and other subtle things that cannot be described—sothatalltheworldwasapanoramaofboilinglifevisibletohimselfonly.Hefoundhecouldpenetratebuildingsashewalked,sendinghismind inas

thoughitweresomethingheheldonaleash,somethingthatcouldsuckitswayinto crannies invisible to the eye and bring out the bones of men’s innerthoughts.It was before a huge stone-fronted building that he halted, and considered.

They(whoevertheywere)wereafterhim.Hehadkilledthefollower,buttheremustbeothers—theothersthatthefollowerhadwantedtocall.Itmightbebestforhimtomakenomoveforafewdays,andhowtodothatbest?...Ajob?...Heprobed thebuildingbeforewhichhehad stopped. In therewasadistant

MindTouchthattohimmightmeanajob.Theywerelookingfortextileworkersinthere—andhehadoncebeenatailor.Hesteppedinside,wherehewaspromptlyignoredbyeveryone.Hetouched

someone’sshoulder.“WheredoIseeaboutajob,please?”“Throughthatdoor!”TheMindTouchthatreachedhimwasfullofannoyance

andsuspicion.Throughthedoor,andthenathin,point-chinfellowfiredquestionsathimand

fingeredtheclassifyingmachineontowhichhepunchedtheanswers.Schwartzstammeredhisliesandtruthswithequaluncertainty.But the personnel man began, at least, with a definite unconcern. The

questionswerefiredrapidly:“Age? . . .Fifty-two?Hmm.Stateofhealth? . . .Married?. . .Experience?. . .Workedwithtextiles?. . .Well,whatkind?. . .Thermoplastic?Elastomeric? . . .Whatdoyoumean,you thinkallkinds? . . .Whomdidyouworkwithlast?...Spellhisname....You’renotfromChica,areyou?...Whereareyourpapers?...You’llhavetobringthemhereifyouwantactiontaken....What’syourregistrationnumber?...”Schwartzwasbackingaway.Hehadn’tforeseenthisendwhenhehadbegun.

And the Mind Touch of the man before him was changing. It had becomesuspicious to the point of single-trackedness, and cautious too. There was asurfacelayerofsweetnessandgood-fellowshipthatwassoshallow,andwhichoverlayanimositysothinly,astobethemostdangerousfeatureofall.“Ithink,”saidSchwartznervously,“thatI’mnotsuitedforthisjob.”“No,no,comeback.”Andthemanbeckonedathim.“Wehavesomethingfor

you. Just let me look through the files a bit.” He was smiling, but hisMindTouchwasclearernowandevenmoreunfriendly.Hehadpunchedabuzzeronhisdesk—Schwartz,inasuddenpanic,rushedforthedoor.“Holdhim!”criedtheotherinstantly,dashingfrombehindhisdesk.SchwartzstruckattheMindTouch,lashingoutviolentlywithhisownmind,

and he heard a groan behind him. He looked quickly over his shoulder. Thepersonnelmanwasseatedonthefloor,facecontortedandtemplesburiedinhispalms. Another man bent over him; then, at an urgent gesture, headed forSchwartz.Schwartzwaitednomore.Hewasoutonthestreet,fullyawarenowthattheremustbeanalarmoutfor

himwith a complete descriptionmade public, and that the personnelman, atleast,hadrecognizedhim.Herananddoubledalongthestreetsblindly.Heattractedattention;moreofit

now,forthestreetswerefillingup—suspicion,suspicioneverywhere—suspicion

becauseheran—suspicionbecausehisclotheswerewrinkledandill-fitting—InthemultiplicityofMindTouchesandintheconfusionofhisownfearand

despair,hecouldnotidentifythetrueenemies,theonesinwhichtherewasnotonly suspicion but certainty, and so he hadn’t the slightest warning of theneuronicwhip.Therewasonlythatawfulpain,whichdescendedlikethewhistleofalashand

remainedlikethecrushofarock.Forsecondshecoasteddowntheslopeofthatdescentintoagonybeforedriftingintotheblack.

13

SpiderWebatWashenn

The grounds of theCollege of Ancients inWashenn are nothing if notsedate. Austerity is the key word, and there is something authentically graveabouttheclusteredknotsofnovicestakingtheireveningstrollamongthetreesof theQuadrangle—wherenonebutAncientsmight trespass.Occasionally thegreen-robed figure of a Senior Ancient might make its way across the lawn,receivingreverencesgraciously.And,onceinalongwhile,theHighMinisterhimselfmightappear.But not as now, at a half run, almost in a perspiration, disregarding the

respectfulraisingofhands,oblivioustothecautiousstaresthatfollowedhim,theblanklooksatoneanother,theslightlyraisedeyebrows.Heburst into theLegislativeHallby theprivateentranceandbroke into an

open run down the empty, step-ringing ramp. The door that he thundered atopenedatthefootpressureoftheonewithin,andtheHighMinisterentered.HisSecretaryscarcelylookedupfrombehindhissmall,plaindesk,wherehe

hunchedoveramidgetField-shieldedTelevisor,listeningintentlyandallowinghiseyestoroveoveraquireorsoofofficial-lookingcommunicationsthatpiledhighbeforehim.TheHighMinisterrappedsharplyonthedesk.“Whatisthis?Whatisgoing

on?”TheSecretary’seyesflickedcoldlyathim,and theTelevisorwasput toone

side.“Greetings,YourExcellency.”

“Greetme no greetings!” retorted theHighMinister impatiently. “Iwant toknowwhatisgoingon.”“Inasentence,ourmanhasescaped.”“You mean the man who was treated by Shekt with the Synapsifier—the

Outsider—thespy—theoneonthefarmoutsideChica—”It is uncertain how many qualifications the High Minister, in his anxiety,

might have rattled out had not the Secretary interrupted with an indifferent“Exactly.”“WhywasInotinformed?WhyamIneverinformed?”“Immediate action was necessary and you were engaged. I substituted,

therefore,tothebestofmyability.”“Yes,youarecarefulaboutmyengagementswhenyouwishtodowithoutme.

Now,I’llnothaveit.Iwillnotpermitmyselftobeby-passedandsidetracked.Iwillnot—”“We delay,” was the reply at ordinary speaking volume, and the High

Minister’shalfshoutfaded.Hecoughed,hovereduncertainlyatfurtherspeech,thensaidmildly:“Whatarethedetails,Balkis?”“Scarcelyany.Aftertwomonthsofpatientwaiting,withnothingtoshowfor

it,thismanSchwartzleft—wasfollowed—andwaslost.”“Howlost?”“Wearenot sure,but there isa further fact.Ouragent,Natter,missed three

reportingperiods lastnight.Hisalternates setoutafterhimalong thehighwaytoward Chica and found him at dawn. He was in a ditch at the side of thehighway—quitedead.”TheHighMinisterpaled.“TheOutsiderhadkilledhim?”“Presumably,thoughwecannotsaycertainly.Therewerenovisiblesignsof

violenceotherthanalookofagonyonthedeadface.Therewillbeanautopsy,ofcourse.Hemighthavediedofastrokejustatthatinconvenientmoment.”“Thatwouldbeanincrediblecoincidence.”“So I think,” was the cool response, “but if Schwartz killed him, it makes

subsequenteventspuzzling.Yousee,YourExcellency,itseemedquiteobviousfromourpreviousanalysisthatSchwartzwouldmakeforChicainordertoseeShekt,andNatterwasfounddeadonthehighwaybetweentheMarenfarmandChica.Wethereforesentoutanalarmtothatcitythreehoursagoandthemanwascaught.”“Schwartz?”incredulously.“Certainly.”“Whydidn’tyousaythatimmediately?”

Balkisshrugged.“YourExcellency,thereismoreimportantworktobedone.IsaidthatSchwartzwasinourhands.Well,hewascaughtquicklyandeasily,andthat factdoesnot seem tome to jibeverywellwith thedeathofNatter.HowcouldhebeatoncesocleverastodetectandkillNatter—amostcapableman—andsostupidastoenterChicatheverynextmorningandopenlyenterafactory,withoutdisguise,tofindajob?”“Isthatwhathedid?”“That’swhathedid....Therearetwopossiblethoughtsthatthisgivesriseto,

therefore.EitherhehasalreadytransmittedsuchinformationashehastoShektorArvardan,andhasnowlethimselfbecaughtinordertodivertoutattention,orelseotheragentsare involved,whomwehavenotdetectedandwhomhe isnowcovering.Ineithercase,wemustnotbeoverconfident.”“Idon’tknow,”saidtheHighMinisterhelplessly,hishandsomefacetwisted

intoanxiouslines.“Itgetstoodeepforme.”Balkissmiledwithmorethanatraceofcontemptandvolunteeredastatement.

“YouhaveanappointmentfourhoursfromnowwithProfessorBelArvardan.”“Ihave?Why?WhatamItosaytohim?Idon’twanttoseehim.”“Relax.Youmustseehim,YourExcellency.Itseemsobvioustomethatsince

thedateofcommencementofhis fictitiousexpedition isapproaching,hemustplay out the game by asking you for permission to investigate the ForbiddenAreas.Enniuswarnedushewould,andEnniusmustknowexactlythedetailsofthis comedy. I suppose that you are able to return him froth for froth in thismatterandtocounterpretensewithpretense.”TheHighMinisterbowedhishead.“Well,Ishalltry.”

BelArvardanarrivedingoodtime,andwasabletolookabouthim.Toaman well acquainted with the architectural triumphs of all the Galaxy, theCollegeofAncients could scarcely seemmore thanabroodingblockof steel-ribbedgranite,fashionedinanarchaicstyle.Toonewhowasanarchaeologistaswell,itmightsignify,initsgloomy,nearlysavageausterity,theproperhomeofagloomy, nearly savage way of life. Its very primitiveness marked the turningbackofeyestothefarpast.AndArvardan’sthoughtsslippedawayonceagain.Histwo-monthtourabout

Earth’swestern continents had proven not quite—amusing. That first day hadruinedthings.HefoundhimselfthinkingbacktothatdayatChica.Hewasinstantlyangrywithhimselfforthinkingaboutitagain.Shehadbeen

rude, egregiously ungrateful, a commonEarthgirl.Why should he feel guilty?Andyet...

HadhemadeallowancesforhershockatdiscoveringhimtobeanOutsider,likethatofficerwhohadinsultedherandwhosearrogantbrutalityhehadrepaidwith a broken arm?After all, how could he knowhowmuch she had alreadysufferedat thehandsofOutsiders?Andthentofindout, likethat,withoutanysofteningoftheblow,thathewasone.If he had beenmore patient . . .Why had he broken it off so brutally?He

didn’t even rememberhername. ItwasPola something.Strange!Hismemorywasordinarilybetterthanthat.Wasitanunconsciousefforttoforget?Well, that made sense. Forget! What was there to remember, anyway? An

Earthgirl.AcommonEarthgirl.Shewasanurse inahospital.Supposehe triedto locate thehospital. Ithad

beenjustavagueblotinthenightwhenhepartedfromher,butitmustbeintheneighborhoodofthatFoodomat.Hesnatchedatthethoughtandbrokeintoathousandangryfragments.Washe

mad?Whatwouldhehavegained?ShewasanEarthgirl.Pretty,sweet,somehowentic—AnEarthgirl!TheHighMinisterwasentering,andArvardanwasglad.Itmeantrelieffrom

thatdayinChica.But,deepinhismind,heknewthattheywouldreturn.They—thethoughts,thatis—alwaysdid.AsfortheHighMinister,hisrobewasnewandglisteninginitsfreshness.His

forehead showed no trace of haste or doubt; perspiration might have been astrangertoit.Andtheconversationwasfriendly,indeed.Arvardanwasatpainstomention

thewell-wishingsofsomeofthegreatmenoftheEmpiretothepeopleofEarth.TheHighMinisterwasascarefultoexpressthethoroughgratificationthatmustbe felt by all Earth at the generosity and enlightenment of the ImperialGovernment.Arvardan expounded on the importance of archaeology to Imperial

philosophy, on its contribution to the great conclusion that all humans ofwhatever world of the Galaxy were brothers—and the High Minister agreedblandlyandpointedoutthatEarthhadlongheldsuchtobethecaseandcouldonlyhopethatthetimewouldshortlycomewhentherestoftheGalaxymightturntheoryintopractice.Arvardan smiled very shortly at that and said, “It is for that very purpose,

YourExcellency,thatIhaveapproachedyou.ThedifferencesbetweenEarthandsomeoftheImperialDominionsneighboringitrestlargely,perhaps,ondifferingwaysof thinking.Still,agooddealoffrictioncouldberemovedif itcouldbeshownthatEarthmenwerenotdifferent,racially,fromotherGalacticcitizens.”

“Andhowwouldyouproposetodothat,sir?”“Thatisnoteasytoexplaininaword.AsYourExcellencymayknow,thetwo

main currents of archaeological thinking are commonly called the MergerTheoryandtheRadiationTheory.”“Iamacquaintedwithalayman’sviewofboth.”“Good. Now the Merger Theory, of course, involves the notion that the

varioustypesofhumanity,evolvingindependently,haveintermarriedintheveryearly,scarcelydocumenteddaysofprimitivespacetravel.Aconceptionlikethatis necessary to account for the fact thatHumans are so alike one to the othernow.”“Yes,” commented the High Minister dryly, “and such a conception also

involves the necessity of having several hundred, or thousand, separatelyevolvedbeingsofamoreorlesshumantypesocloselyrelatedchemicallyandbiologicallythatintermarriageispossible.”“True,” repliedArvardanwith satisfaction.“Youhaveputyour fingeronan

impossiblyweak point.Yetmost archaeologists ignore it and adhere firmly totheMergerTheory,whichwould,ofcourse,implythepossibilitythatinisolatedportions of the Galaxy there might be subspecies of humanity who remaineddifferent,didn’tintermarry—”“YoumeanEarth,”commentedtheHighMinister.“Earthisconsideredanexample.TheRadiationTheory,ontheotherhand—”“Considersusalldescendantsofoneplanetarygroupofhumans.”“Exactly.”“My people,” said theHighMinister, “because of the evidence of our own

history,andofcertainwritingswhicharesacredtousandcannotbeexposedtotheviewofOutsiders,areof thebelief thatEarth itself is theoriginalhomeofhumanity.”“Andso Ibelieveaswell, and I askyourhelp toprove thispoint toall the

Galaxy.”“Youareoptimistic.Justwhatisinvolved?”“It is my conviction, Your Excellency, that many primitive artifacts and

architecturalremainsmaybelocatedinthoseareasofyourworldwhicharenow,unfortunately, masked by radioactivity. The age of the remains could beaccuratelycalculatedfromtheradioactivedecaypresentandcompared—”ButtheHighMinisterwasshakinghishead.“Thatisoutofthequestion.”“Why?”AndArvardanfrownedinthoroughamazement.“For one thing,” said the High Minister, reasoning mildly, “what do you

expecttoaccomplish?Ifyouproveyourpoint,eventothesatisfactionofalltheworlds,whatdoesitmatterthatamillionyearsagoallofyouwereEarthmen?

Afterall,abillionyearsagowewereallapes,yetwedonotadmitpresent-dayapesintotherelationship.”“Come,YourExcellency,theanalogyisunreasonable.”“Not at all, sir. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that Earthmen, in their long

isolation, have so changed from their emigrating cousins, especially under theinfluenceofradioactivity,asnowtoformadifferentrace?”Arvardanbitathislowerlipandansweredreluctantly,“Youarguewellonthe

sideofyourenemy.”“Because I ask myself what my enemy will say. So you will accomplish

nothing,sir,exceptperhapstofurtherexacerbatethehatredagainstus.”“But,”saidArvardan,“thereisstillthematteroftheinterestsofpurescience,

theadvanceofknowledge—”TheHighMinisternoddedgravely.“Iamtrulysorry tohave tostand in the

wayofthat.Ispeaknow,sir,asonegentlemanoftheEmpiretoanother.Imyselfwouldcheerfullyhelpyou,butmypeopleareanobstinateandstiff-neckedrace,who over centuries have withdrawn into themselves because of the—uh—lamentable attitudes toward them in parts of the Galaxy. They have certaintaboos,certainfixedCustoms—whichevenIcouldnotaffordtoviolate.”“Andtheradioactiveareas—”“Are one of the most important taboos. Even if I were to grant you

permission,andcertainlymyeveryimpulseistodoso,itwouldmerelyprovokeriotinganddisturbances,whichwouldnotonlyendangeryourlifeandthoseofthemembers of your expedition butwould, in the long run, bring down uponEarththedisciplinaryactionoftheEmpire.IwouldbetraymypositionandthetrustofmypeopleifIweretoallowthat.”“But I am willing to take all reasonable precautions. If you wish to send

observerswithme—Or,ofcourse,Icanoffer toconsultyoubeforepublishinganyresultsobtained.”TheHighMinister said, “You temptme, sir. It is an interestingproject.But

you overestimate my power, even if we leave the people themselves out ofconsideration.Iamnotanabsoluteruler.Infact,mypowerissharplylimited—andallmattersmustbesubmittedtotheconsiderationoftheSocietyofAncientsbeforefinaldecisionsarepossible.”Arvardanshookhishead.“This ismostunfortunate.TheProcuratorwarned

me of the difficulties, yet I was hoping that—When can you consult yourlegislature,YourExcellency?”“ThePresidiumof theSocietyofAncientswillmeet threedayshence. It is

beyondmypowertoaltertheagenda,soitmaybeafewdaysmorebeforethemattercanbediscussed.Sayaweek.”

Arvardannoddedabstractedly.“Well,itwillhavetodo....Bytheway,YourExcellency—”“Yes?”“ThereisascientistuponyourplanetwhomIwouldliketomeet.ADr.Shekt

atChica.Now, I’vebeen inChica,but leftbefore Icoulddomuchandwouldliketorepairtheomission.SinceIamsureheisabusyman,IwonderifIcouldtroubleyouforaletterofintroduction?”TheHighMinisterhadstiffenedvisiblyandforseveralmomentssaidnothing.

Then,“MayIaskwhatitisyouwanttoseehimabout?”“Certainly. I have readof an instrumenthehasdeveloped,whichhe calls a

Synapsifier, I believe. It concerns the neuro-chemistry of the brain and couldhavesomethingveryinterestingtodowithanotherprojectofmine.Ihavebeendoingsomeworkontheclassificationofhumanityintoencephalographicgroups—brain-currenttypes,youunderstand.”“Umm...Ihaveheardvaguelyaboutthedevice.Iseemtorecallthatitwas

notasuccess.”“Well,maybenot,butheisanexpertinthefieldandcouldprobablybevery

helpfultome.”“I see. In that casea letterof introductionwillbeprepared immediately for

you.Ofcourse theremustbenomentionofyour intentionswith regard to theForbiddenAreas.”“That is understood, Your Excellency.” He rose. “I thank you for your

courtesyandyourkindattitudeandcanonlyhopethattheCouncilofAncientswillbeliberalwithrespecttomyproject.”TheSecretaryenteredafterArvardanleft.Hislipswerespreadinhischaracteristiccold,savagesmile.“Verygood,”hesaid.“Youhandledyourselfwell,YourExcellency.”TheHighMinisterlookedathimsomberlyandsaid,“Whatwasthatlastabout

Shekt?”“Youarepuzzled?Don’tbe.Allthingsareworkingoutwell.Younoticedhis

lack of heatwhenyouvetoed his project.Was that the response of a scientistwhose heart is set upon somethingwithdrawn from his grasp for no apparentreason?Orisit theresponseofonewhoisplayingapartandisrelievedtobewellridofit?“And againwe have a queer coincidence. Schwartz escapes andmakes his

waytoChica.TheverynextdayArvardanappearshereand,aftera lukewarmrigmaroleabouthisexpedition,mentionscasuallythatheisgoingtoChicatosee

Shekt.”“Butwhymentionit,Balkis?Itseemsfoolhardy.”“Becauseyou are straightforward.Put yourself in his position.He imagines

we suspect nothing. In such a case it is audacity thatwins.He’s going to seeShekt.Good!Hementions it frankly.Heevenasksfora letterof introduction.Whatbetterguaranteeofhonestandinnocentintentionscanhepresent?Andthatbrings up another point. Schwartz may have discovered that he was beingwatched.HemayhavekilledNatter.Buthehashadnotimetowarntheothers,orthiscomedycouldnothaveplayeditselfoutinjustthisfashion.”TheSecretary’seyeswerehalfliddedashespunhisspiderweb.“Thereisno

wayoftellinghowlongitwillbebeforeSchwartz’sabsencebecomessuspiciousfor them, but it is at least safe to allow sufficient time for Arvardan tomeetShekt.We’llcatchthemtogether;therewillbethatmuchlesstheycandeny.”“Howmuchtimedowehave?”demandedtheHighMinister.Balkis looked up thoughtfully. “The schedule is fluid, and ever since we

uncovered Shekt’s treason they’ve been on triple shift—and things areproceedingwell.Weawaitonlythemathematicalcomputationsforthenecessaryorbits.Whatholdsusup there is the inadequacyofourcomputers.Well . . . itmaybeonlyamatterofdaysnow.”“Days!”Itwassaidinatonequeerlycompoundedoftriumphandhorror.“Days!”repeatedtheSecretary.“Butremember—onebombeventwoseconds

beforezerotimewillbeenoughtostopus.Andevenafterwardtherewillbeaperiodoffromonetosixmonthswhenreprisalscanbetaken.Sowearenotyetentirelysafe.”Days! And then the most incredibly one-sided battle in the history of the

GalaxywouldbejoinedandEarthwouldattackalltheGalaxy.TheHighMinister’shandsweretremblinggently.

Arvardanwasseatedinastratoplaneagain.His thoughtsweresavageones. There seemed no reason to believe that the High Minister and hispsychopathic subject population would allow an official invasion of theradioactive areas. He was prepared for that. Somehow he wasn’t even sorryaboutit.Hecouldhaveputupabetterfight—ifhehadcaredmore.Asitwas,bytheGalaxy,therewouldbeillegalentry.Hewouldarmhisship

andfightitout,ifnecessary.Hewouldrather.Thebloodyfools!Whothedevildidtheythinktheywere?Yes, yes, he knew. They thought they were the original humans, the

inhabitantsoftheplanet—Theworstofitwasheknewthattheywereright.Well . . .Theshipwas takingoff.Hefelthimselfsinkingback into thesoft

cushionofhisseatandknewthatwithinthehourhe’dbeseeingChica.NotthathewaseagertoseeChica,hetoldhimself,buttheSynapsifierthing

could be important, and there was no use being on Earth if he didn’t takeadvantageofit.Hecertainlyneverintendedtoreturnonceheleft.Rathole!Enniuswasright.ThisDr.Shekt,however...Hefingeredhisletterofintroduction,heavywith

officialformality—Andthenhesatboltupright—ortriedto,strugglingbitterlyagainsttheforces

of inertia thatwerecompressinghimdown intohis seatas theEarthstill sankawayandtheblueoftheskywasdeepenedintoarichpurple.Herememberedthegirl’sname.ItwasPolaShekt.Nowwhyhadheforgotten?Hefeltangryandcheated.Hismindwasplotting

againsthim,holdingbackthelastnametillitwastoolate.But,deepunderneath,somethingwasrathergladofit.

14

SecondMeeting

In the two months that had elapsed from the day that Dr. Shekt’sSynapsifier had been used on Joseph Schwartz, the physicist had changedcompletely. Physically not so much, though perhaps he was a thought morestooped,ashadethinner.Itwashismanner—abstracted,fearful.Helivedinaninnercommunion,withdrawnfromevenhisclosestcolleagues,andfromwhichheemergedwithareluctancethatwasplaintotheblindest.OnlytoPolacouldheunburdenhimself,perhapsbecauseshe,too,hadbeen

strangelywithdrawnthosetwomonths.“They’rewatchingme,”hewouldsay.“Ifeelitsomehow.Doyouknowwhat

thefeelingislike?...There’sbeenaturnoverintheInstituteinthelastmonthorso,andit’stheonesIlikeandfeelIcantrustthatgo....Inevergetaminutetomyself.Alwayssomeoneabout.Theywon’tevenletmewritereports.”And Pola would alternately sympathize with him and laugh at him, saying

overandoveragain,“Butwhatcantheypossiblyhaveagainstyoutodoallthis?EvenifyoudidexperimentonSchwartz,that’snotsuchaterriblecrime.They’dhavejustcalledyouonthecarpetforit.”Buthisfacewasyellowandthinashemuttered,“Theywon’tletmelive.My

Sixtyiscomingandtheywon’tletmelive.”“Afterallyou’vedone.Nonsense!”“Iknowtoomuch,Pola,andtheydon’ttrustme.”“Knowtoomuchaboutwhat?”

Hewas tired thatnight,aching to remove the load.He toldher.At first shewouldn’tbelievehim,andfinally,whenshedid,shecouldonlysitthere,incoldhorror.PolacalleduptheStateHousethenextdayfromapublicCommuni-waveat

theotherendoftown.ShespokethroughahandkerchiefandaskedforDr.BelArvardan.He wasn’t there. They thought he might be in Bonair, six thousand miles

away, but he hadn’t been following his scheduled itinerary very closely. Yes,they did expect him back in Chica eventually, but they didn’t know exactlywhen.Wouldsheleavehername?Theywouldtrytofindout.She broke connections at that and leaned her soft cheek against the glass

enclosure, grateful for the coolness thereof. Her eyes were deep with unshedtearsandliquidwithdisappointment.Fool.Fool!Hehadhelpedherandshehadsenthimawayinbitterness.Hehadriskedthe

neuronic whip and worse to save the dignity of a little Earthgirl against anOutsiderandshehadturnedonhimanyway.The hundred credits she had sent to the StateHouse themorning after that

incidenthadbeenreturnedwithoutcomment.Shehadwantedthentoreachhimandapologize,butshehadbeenafraid.TheStateHousewasforOutsidersonly,andhowcouldsheinvadeit?Shehadneverevenseenit,exceptfromadistance.Andnow—She’dhavegonetothepalaceoftheProcuratorhimselfto—to—Onlyhecouldhelpthemnow.He,anOutsiderwhocouldtalkwithEarthmen

onabasisofequality.ShehadneverguessedhimtobeanOutsideruntilhehadtoldher.Hewassotallandself-confident.Hewouldknowwhattodo.Andsomeonehadtoknow,oritwouldmeantheruinofalltheGalaxy.Ofcourse,somanyOutsidersdeserved it—butdidallof them?Thewomen

andchildrenandsickandold?Thekindandthegood?TheArvardans?TheoneswhohadneverheardofEarth?Andtheywerehumans,afterall.Suchahorriblerevenge would for all time drown whatever justice might be—no, was—inEarth’scauseinanendlessseaofbloodandrottingflesh.Andthen,outofnowhere,camethecallfromArvardan.Dr.Shektshookhis

head.“Ican’ttellhim.”“Youmust,”saidPolasavagely.“Here?Itisimpossible—itwouldmeanruinforboth.”“Thenturnhimaway.I’lltakecareofit.”Herheartwas singingwildly. Itwasonlybecauseof this chance to save so

manycountlessmyriadsofhumans,ofcourse.Sherememberedhiswide,whitesmile. She remembered howhe had calmly forced a colonel of theEmperor’s

ownforcestoturnandbowhisheadtoherinapology—toher,anEarthgirl,whocouldstandthereandforgivehim.BelArvardancoulddoanything!

Arvardancould, of course,knownothing of all this. Hemerely tookShekt’sattitudeforwhatitseemed—anabruptandoddrudeness,ofapiecewitheverythingelsehehadexperiencedonEarth.He felt annoyed, there in the anteroomof the carefully lifeless office, quite

obviouslyanunwelcomeintruder.Hepickedhiswords.“Iwouldneverhavedreamedofimposinguponyouto

theextentofvisitingyou,Doctor,wereitnotthatIwasprofessionallyinterestedinyourSynapsifier.Ihavebeeninformedthat,unlikemanyEarthmen,youarenotunfriendlytomenoftheGalaxy.”It was apparently an unfortunate phrase, for Dr. Shekt jumped at it. “Now,

whoeveryourinformantis,hedoeswrongtoimputeanyespecialfriendlinesstostrangersassuch.Ihavenolikesanddislikes.IamanEarthman—”Arvardan’slipscompressedandhehalfturned.“Youunderstand,Dr.Arvardan”—thewordswerehurriedandwhispered—“I

amsorryifIseemrude,butIreallycannot—”“I quite understand,” the archaeologist said coldly, though he did not

understandatall.“Goodday,sir.”Dr.Shektsmiledfeebly.“Thepressureofmywork—”“Iamverybusytoo,Dr.Shekt.”He turned to the door, raging inwardly at all the tribe of Earthmen, feeling

withinhim,involuntarily,someofthecatchwordsthatwerebandiedsofreelyonhishomeworld.Theproverbs,forinstance:“PolitenessonEarthislikedrynessintheocean”or“AnEarthmanwillgiveyouanythingaslongasitcostsnothingandisworthless.”Hisarmhadalreadybrokenthephotoelectricbeamthatopenedthefrontdoor

whenheheardtheflurryofquickstepsbehindhimandahistofwarninginhisear.Apieceofpaperwasthrustinhishand,andwhenheturned,therewasonlyaflashofredasafiguredisappeared.Hewas in his rentedground car before heunraveled thepaper in his hand.

Wordswerescrawleduponit:“Askyourway to theGreatPlayhouseateight thisevening.Makesureyou

arenotfollowed.”Hefrownedferociouslyatitandreaditoverfivetimes,thenstaredalloverit,

as though expecting invisible ink to bound into visibility. Involuntarily, he

lookedbehindhim.Thestreetwasempty.Hehalfraisedhishandtothrowthesillyscrapoutofthewindow,hesitated,thenstuffeditintohisvestpocket.Undoubtedly,ifhehadhadonesinglethingtodothateveningotherthanwhat

the scrawlhadsuggested, thatwouldhavebeen theendof it, and,perhaps,ofseveraltrillionsofpeople.But,asitturnedout,hehadnothingtodo.And,asitturnedout,hewonderedifthesenderofthenotehadbeen—

Ateighto’clockhewasmaking his slowway as part of a long line ofgroundcarsalongtheserpentinewaythatapparentlyledtotheGreatPlayhouse.Hehadaskedonlyonce,andthepasserbyquestionedhadstaredsuspiciouslyathim(apparentlynoEarthmanwaseverfreeofthatall-pervasivesuspicion)andhadsaidcurtly,“Youjustfollowalltherestofthecars.”ItseemedthatalltherestofthecarswereindeedgoingtothePlayhouse,for

when he got there he found all being swallowed, one by one, into the gapingmawoftheundergroundparkinglot.HeswungoutoflineandcrawledpastthePlayhouse,waitingforheknewnotwhat.A slim figure dashed down from the pedestrian ramp and hung outside his

window.He staredat it, startled,but it had thedooropenandwas inside in asinglegesture.“Pardonme,”hesaid,“but—”“Ssh!”Thefigurewashuncheddownlowintheseat.“Wereyoufollowed?”“ShouldIhavebeen?”“Don’tbefunny.Gostraightahead.TurnwhenItellyou... .Mygoodness,

whatareyouwaitingfor?”Heknewthevoice.Ahoodhadshifteddowntotheshoulders,andlightbrown

hairwasshowing.Darkeyesweregazingathim.“You’dbettermoveon,”shesaidsoftly.He did, and for fifteen minutes, except for an occasional muffled but curt

direction,shesaidnothing.Hestoleglancesatherand thought,withasuddenpleasure, that shewas even prettier than he had remembered her. Strange thatnowhefeltnoresentment.They stopped—orArvardan did, at the girl’s direction—at the corner of an

unpeopledresidentialdistrict.Afteracarefulpausethegirlmotionedhimaheadonce more and they inched down a drive that ended in the gentle ramp of aprivategarage.Thedoorclosedbehindthemandthelight inthecarwastheonlysourceof

illumination.AndnowPolalookedathimgravelyandsaid,“Dr.Arvardan,I’msorrythatI

hadtodothisinordertospeaktoyouprivately.IknowthatIhavenostandinginyourgoodopiniontolose—”“Don’tthinkthat,”hesaidawkwardly.“Imust think that. Iwant you to believe that I fully realize how small and

viciousIwasthatnight.Idon’thavetheproperwordstoapologize—”“Pleasedon’t.”Heglancedaway fromher. “Imighthavebeena littlemore

diplomatic.”“Well . . .” Pola paused a few moments to regain a certain minimal

composure. “It’s notwhat I’vebroughtyouhere for.You’re theonlyOutsiderI’veevermetthatcouldbekindandnoble—andIneedyourhelp.”AcoldpangshotthroughArvardan.Wasthiswhatitwasallabout?Hepacked

thatthoughtintoacold“Oh?”Andshecried,“No,”inreturn.“Itisnotforme,Dr.Arvardan.Itisforallthe

Galaxy.Nothingformyself.Nothing!”“Whatisit?”“First—I don’t think anyone followed us, but if you hear any noise at all,

wouldyou—wouldyou”—hereyesdropped—“putyourarmsaboutme,and—and—youknow.”He nodded his head and said dryly, “I believe I can improvisewithout any

trouble.Isitnecessarytowaitfornoise?”Polareddened.“Pleasedon’tjokeaboutit,ormistakemyintentions.Itwould

betheonlywayofavoidingsuspicionofourrealintentions.Itistheonethingthatwouldbeconvincing.”Arvardansaidsoftly,“Arethingsthatserious?”Helookedathercuriously.Sheseemedsoyoungandsosoft.Inawayhefelt

ittobeunfair.Neverinhislifedidheactunreasoningly.Hetookprideinthat.Hewasamanofstrongemotions,buthefoughtthemandbeatthem.Andhere,justbecauseagirlseemedweak,hefelttheunreasoningurgetoprotecther.She said, “Things are that serious. I’m going to tell you something, and I

knowyouwon’tbelieveitatfirst.ButIwantyoutotrytobelieveit.IwantyoutomakeupyourmindthatI’msincere.AndmostofallIwantyoutodecidethatyouwillstickwithusafterItellyouandseeitthrough.Willyoutry?I’llgiveyoufifteenminutes,andifyouthinkattheendofthattimethatI’mnotworthtrustingorbotheringwith,I’llleave,andthat’stheendofit.”“Fifteenminutes?”Hislipsquirkedinaninvoluntarysmile,andheremoved

hiswristwatchandputitbeforehim.“Allright.”She clasped her hands in her lap and looked firmly ahead through the

windshieldthataffordedaviewonlyoftheblankwallofthegarageahead.Hewatchedher thoughtfully—the smooth, soft lineofher chin,belying the

firmnessintowhichshewasattemptingtoforceit,thestraightandthinlydrawnnose,thepeculiarlyrichovertonetothecomplexion,socharacteristicofEarth.Hecaughtthecornerofhereyeuponhim.Itwashastilywithdrawn.“What’sthematter?”hesaid.Sheturnedtohimandcaughtherunderlipintwoteeth.“Iwaswatchingyou.”“Yes,Icouldseethat.Smudgeonmynose?”“No.” She smiled tinily, the first since she had entered his car. He was

becomingabsurdlyconsciousoflittlethingsabouther:thewayherhairseemedtohoverandfloatgentlyeachtimesheshookherhead.“It’sjustthatI’vebeenwondering ever since—that night—why you don’t wear that lead clothing, ifyou’reanOutsider.That’swhatfooledme.Outsidersgenerallylooklikesacksofpotatoes.”“AndIdon’t?”“Oh no”—and there was a sudden tinge of enthusiasm in her voice—“you

look—youlookquitelikeanancientmarblestatue,exceptthatyou’realiveandwarm....I’msorry.I’mbeingimpertinent.”“Youmeanyou think that it’smyopinion you’re anEarth-girlwhodoesn’t

knowyourplace.You’llhavetostopthinkingthatofme,orwecan’tbefriendly.. . . I don’t believe in the radioactivity superstition. I’ve measured theatmosphericradioactivityofEarthandI’veconductedlaboratoryexperimentsonanimals. I’m quite convinced that under ordinary circumstances the radiationswon’thurtme.I’vebeenheretwomonthsandIdon’tfeelsickyet.Myhairisn’tfallingout”—hepulledatit—“mystomachisn’tinknots.AndIdoubtthatmyfertilityisbeingendangered,thoughIwilladmittotakingslightprecautionsinthatrespect.Butlead-impregnatedshorts,yousee,don’tshow.”He said that gravely, and she was smiling again. “You’re slightly mad, I

think,”shesaid.“Really? You’d be surprised how many very intelligent and famous

archaeologistshavesaidthat—andinlongspeeches,too.”Andshesaidsuddenly,“Willyoulistentomenow?Thefifteenminutesare

up.”“Whatdoyouthink?”“Why, that youmight be. If youweren’t, youwouldn’t still be sitting here.

NotafterwhatI’vedone.”Hesaidsoftly,“AreyouundertheimpressionthatIhavetoforcemyselfvery

hardtositherenexttoyou?Ifyoudo,you’rewrong. . . .Doyouknow,Pola,I’ve never seen, I really believe I’ve never seen, a girl quite as beautiful asyourself.”She lookedupquickly,withfright inhereyes.“Pleasedon’t. I’mnot trying

forthat.Don’tyoubelieveme?”“Yes,Ido,Pola.Tellmewhateveritisyouwantto.I’llbelieveitandI’llhelp

you.”Hebelievedhimself,implicitly.AtthemomentArvardanwouldcheerfullyhaveundertakentounseattheEmperor.Hehadneverbeeninlovebefore,andatthatpointhegroundhisthoughtstoahalt.Hehadnotusedthatwordbefore.Love?WithanEarthgirl?“You’veseenmyfather,Dr.Arvardan?”“Dr.Shektisyourfather?...PleasecallmeBel.I’llcallyouPola.”“Ifyouwantmeto,I’lltry.Isupposeyouwereprettyangrywithhim.”“Hewasn’tverypolite.”“He couldn’t be.He’s beingwatched. In fact, he and I arranged in advance

thathewastogetridofyouandIwastoseeyouhere.Thisisourhouse,youknow.. . .Yousee”—hervoicedroppedtoatightwhisper—“Earthisgoingtorevolt.”Arvardancouldn’tresistamomentofamusement.“No!”hesaid,openinghiseyeswide.“Allofit?”But Pola flared into instant fury. “Don’t laugh at me. You said you would

listenandbelieveme.Earth isgoing to revolt,and it is serious,becauseEarthcandestroyalltheEmpire.”“Earth can do that?” Arvardan struggled successfully against a burst of

laughter.Hesaidgently,“Pola,howwelldoyouknowyourGalactography?”“Aswellasanybody,teacher,andwhathasthattodowithit,anyway?”“Ithas this todowith it.TheGalaxyhasavolumeof severalmillioncubic

light-years. It contains two hundred million inhabited planets and anapproximatepopulationoffivehundredquadrillionpeople.Right?”“Isupposeso,ifyousayso.”“It is, believe me. Now Earth is one planet, with a population of twenty

millions,andnoresourcesbesides.Inotherwords,therearetwenty-fivebillionGalactic citizens for every single Earthman. Now what harm can Earth doagainstoddsoftwenty-fivebilliontoone?”Foramomentthegirlseemedtosinkintodoubt,thensheemerged.“Bel,”she

said firmly, “I can’t answer that, but my father can. He has not told me thecrucialdetails,becauseheclaimsthatthatwouldendangermylife.Buthewillnow,ifyoucomewithme.He’stoldmethatEarthknowsawaybywhichitcanwipe out all life outside Earth, and hemust be right. He’s always been rightbefore.”Hercheekswerepinkwithearnestness,andArvardanlongedtotouchthem.

(Hadheeverbeforetouchedherandfelthorrifiedatit?Whatwashappeningtohim?)

“Isitafterten?”askedPola.“Yes,”hereplied.“Thenhe should be upstairs now—if theyhaven’t caught him.”She looked

aboutwithaninvoluntaryshudder.“Wecangetintothehousedirectlyfromthegaragenow,andifyou’llcomewithme—”Shehadherhandontheknobthatcontrolledthecardoor,whenshefroze.Her

voicewasahuskywhisper:“There’ssomeonecoming...Oh,quick—”The rest was smothered. It was anything but difficult for Arvardan to

rememberheroriginalinjunction.Hisarmssweptaboutherwithaneasymotion,and,inaninstant,shewaswarmandsoftagainsthim.Herlipstrembleduponhisandwerelimitlessseasofsweetness...Forabouttensecondsheswiveledhiseyestotheirextremesinanefforttosee

thatfirstcrackoflightorhearthatfirstfootstep,butthenhewasdrownedandsweptunderby theexcitementof itall.Blindedbystars,deafenedbyhisownheartbeat.Herlipslefthis,buthesoughtthemagain,frankly,andfoundthem.Hisarms

tightened,andshemeltedwithinthemuntilherownheartbeatwasshakinghimintimetohisown.Itwasquite awhilebefore theybrokeapart, and for amoment they rested,

cheekagainstcheek.Arvardanhadneverbeeninlovebefore,andthistimehedidnotstartatthe

word.Whatofit?Earthgirlornot,theGalaxycouldnotproduceherequal.Hesaid,withadreamypleasure,“Itmusthavebeenonlyatrafficnoise.”“Itwasn’t,”shewhispered.“Ididn’thearanynoise.”Heheldheratarm’sdistance,buthereyesdidnotfalter.“Youdevil.Areyou

serious?”Hereyessparkled.“Iwantedyoutokissme.I’mnotsorry.”“DoyouthinkIam?Kissmeagain,then,fornoreasonbutthatIwanttothis

time.”Anotherlong,longmomentandshewassuddenlyawayfromhim,arranging

herhairandadjustingthecollarofherdresswithprimandprecisegestures.“Ithinkwehadbettergointothehousenow.Putoutthecarlight.I’vegotapencilflash.”He stepped out of the car after her, and in the new darkness she was the

vaguestshadowinthelittlepockmarkoflightthatcamefromherpencilflash.Shesaid, “You’dbetterholdmyhand.There’sa flightof stairswemustgo

up.”Hisvoicewasawhisperbehindher.“Iloveyou,Pola.”Itcameoutsoeasily

—anditsoundedsoright.Hesaiditagain.“Iloveyou,Pola.”Shesaidsoftly,“Youhardlyknowme.”“No.Allmylife.Iswear!Allmylife.Pola,fortwomonthsI’vebeenthinking

anddreamingofyou.Iswearit.”“IamanEarthgirl,sir.”“ThenIwillbeanEarthman.Tryme.”Hestoppedherandbentherhandupgentlyuntilthepocketflashrestedupon

herflushed,tear-markedface.“Whyareyoucrying?”“Because when my father tells you what he knows, you’ll know that you

cannotloveanEarthgirl.”“Trymeonthattoo.”

15

TheOddsThatVanished

ArvardanandShektmetinabackroomonthesecondstoryofthehouse,with the windows carefully polarized to complete opaqueness. Pola wasdownstairs, alert and sharp-eyed in the armchair fromwhich shewatched thedarkandemptystreet.Shekt’s stooped figure wore somehow an air different from that which

Arvardanhadobservedsometenhourspreviously.Thephysicist’sfacewasstillhaggard,andinfinitelyweary,butwherepreviouslyithadseemeduncertainandtimorous,itnowboreanalmostdesperatedefiance.“Dr.Arvardan,” he said, and his voicewas firm, “Imust apologize formy

treatmentofyouinthemorning.Ihadhopedyouwouldunderstand—”“ImustadmitIdidn’t,sir,butIbelieveIdonow.”Shekt seated himself at the table and gestured toward the bottle of wine.

Arvardanwavedhishandinadeprecatingmotion.“Ifyoudon’tmind,I’llhavesomeofthefruitinstead....Whatisthis?Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenanythinglikeit.”“It’sakindoforange,”saidShekt.“Idon’tbelieveitgrowsoutsideEarth.The

rind comes off easily.” He demonstrated, and Arvardan, after sniffing at itcuriously,sankhisteethintothewinypulp.Hecameupwithanexclamation.“Why, this is delightful, Dr. Shekt! Has Earth ever tried to export these

objects?”“TheAncients,”saidthebiophysicistgrimly,“arenotfondoftradingwiththe

Outside. Nor are our neighbors in space fond of tradingwith us. It is but anaspectofourdifficultieshere.”Arvardan felt a sudden spasm of annoyance seize him. “That is the most

stupidthingyet.ItellyouthatIcoulddespairofhumanintelligencewhenIseewhatcanexistinmen’sminds.”Shekt shrugged with the tolerance of lifelong use. “It is part of the nearly

insolubleproblemofanti-Terrestrianism,Ifear.”“Butwhatmakesitsonearlyinsoluble,”exclaimedthearchaeologist,“isthat

no one seems to really want a solution! Howmany Earthmen respond to thesituation by hating all Galactic citizens indiscriminately? It is an almostuniversal disease—hate for hate. Do your people reallywant equality,mutualtolerance?No!Mostofthemwantonlytheirownturnastopdog.”“Perhapsthereismuchinwhatyousay,”saidShektsadly.“Icannotdenyit.

Butthatisnotthewholestory.Giveusbutthechance,andanewgenerationofEarthmen would grow to maturity, lacking insularity and believingwholeheartedlyintheonenessofMan.TheAssimilationists,withtheirtoleranceand belief inwholesome compromise, havemore than once been a power onEarth.Iamone.Or,atleast,Iwasoneonce.ButtheZealotsruleallEarthnow.Theyaretheextremenationalists,withtheirdreamsofpastruleandfuturerule.ItisagainstthemthattheEmpiremustbeprotected.”Arvardanfrowned.“YourefertotherevoltPolaspokeof?”“Dr.Arvardan,”Shektsaidgrimly,“it’snottooeasyajobtoconvinceanyone

ofsuchanapparentlyridiculouspossibilityasEarthconqueringtheGalaxy,butit’s true. I am not physically brave, and I am most anxious to live. You canimagine,then,theimmensecrisisthatmustnowexisttoforcemetoruntheriskofcommittingtreasonwiththeeyeofthelocaladministrationalreadyuponme.”“Well,” saidArvardan, “if it is that serious, I had better tell you one thing

immediately.IwillhelpyouallIcan,butonlyinmyowncapacityasaGalacticcitizen.Ihavenoofficialstandinghere,norhaveIanyparticularinfluenceattheCourt or even at theProcurator’sPalace. I am exactlywhat I seem to be—anarchaeologistona scientific expeditionwhich involvesonlymyown interests.Sinceyouarepreparedtorisktreason,hadn’tyoubetterseetheProcuratoraboutthis?Hecouldreallydosomething.”“That is exactlywhat I cannotdo,Dr.Arvardan. It is thatverycontingency

againstwhichtheAncientsguardme.WhenyoucametomyhousethismorningIeventhoughtyoumightbeago-between.IthoughtthatEnniussuspected.”“Hemaysuspect—Icannotanswerforthat.ButIamnotago-between.I’m

sorry.Ifyouinsistonmakingmeyourconfidant, Icanpromise toseehimforyou.”

“Thankyou.ItisallIask.That—andtouseyourgoodofficestointercedeforEarthagainsttoostrongareprisal.”“Ofcourse.”Arvardanwasuneasy.Atthemomenthewasconvincedthathe

was dealing with an elderly and eccentric paranoiac, perhaps harmless, butthoroughlycracked.Yethehadnochoicebuttoremain,tolisten,andtotrytosmoothoverthegentleinsanity—forPola’ssake.Shektsaid,“Dr.Arvardan,youhaveheardoftheSynapsifier?Yousaidsothis

morning.”“Yes, I did. I readyouroriginal article inPhysicalReviews. I discussed the

instrumentwiththeProcuratorandwiththeHighMinister.”“WiththeHighMinister?”“Why, certainly.When I obtained the letter of introduction that you—uh—

refusedtosee,I’mafraid.”“I’m sorry for that. But I wish you had not—What is the extent of your

knowledgeconcerningtheSynapsifier?”“Thatitisaninterestingfailure.Itisdesignedtoimprovelearningcapacity.It

hassucceededtosomeextentonrats,buthasfailedonhumanbeings.”Shektwaschagrined.“Yes,youcouldthinknothingelsefromthatarticle.It

was publicized as a failure, and the eminently successful results have beensuppressed,deliberately.”“Hmp.Aratherunusualdisplayofscientificethics,Dr.Shekt.”“Iadmitit.ButIamfifty-six,sir,andifyouknowanythingofthecustomsof

Earth,youknowthatIhaven’tlongtolive.”“TheSixty.Yes, Ihaveheardof it—more than Iwouldhave liked, in fact.”

Andhe thoughtwrylyof that first triponaTerrestrianstratoliner.“Exceptionsaremadefornotedscientists,amongothers,Ihaveheard.”“Certainly.ButitistheHighMinisterandtheCouncilofAncientswhodecide

onthat,andthereisnoappealfromtheirdecisions,eventotheEmperor.IwastoldthatthepriceoflifewassecrecyconcerningtheSynapsifierandhardworkforitsimprovement.”Theoldermanspreadhishandshelplessly.“CouldIknowthenoftheoutcome,oftheusetowhichthemachinewouldbeput?”“Andtheuse?”Arvardanextractedacigarettefromhisshirt-pocketcaseand

offeredonetotheother,whichwasrefused.“Ifyou’llwaitamoment—Onebyone,aftermyexperimentshadreachedthe

point where I felt the instrument might be safely applied to human beings,certainofEarth’sbiologistsweretreated.IneachcasetheyweremenIknewtobe in sympathy with the Zealots—the extremists, that is. They all survived,thoughsecondaryeffectsmadethemselvesshownafteratime.Oneofthemwasbroughtback for treatment eventually. I couldnot savehim.But, in his dying

delirium,Ifoundout.”Itwascloseuponmidnight.Thedayhadbeenlongandmuchhadhappened.

ButnowsomethingstirredwithinArvardan.Hesaidtightly,“Iwishyou’dgettothepoint.”Shekt said, “I beg your patience. I must explain thoroughly, if you’re to

believe me. You, of course, know of Earth’s peculiar environment—itsradioactivity—”“Yes,Ihaveafairknowledgeofthematter.”“AndoftheeffectofthisradioactivityuponEarthanditseconomy?”“Yes.”“ThenIwon’tbelaborthepoint.Ineedonlysaythattheincidenceofmutation

onEarthisgreaterthanintherestoftheGalaxy.TheideaofourenemiesthatEarthmenaredifferentthushasacertainbasisofphysicaltruth.Tobesure,themutations are minor, and most possess no survival value. If any permanentchange has occurred in Earthmen, it is only in some aspects of their internalchemistry which enables them to display greater resistance to their ownparticular environment. Thus they show greater resistance to radiation effects,morerapidhealingofburnedtissues—”“Dr.Shekt,Iamacquaintedwithallyousay.”“Then has it ever occurred to you that thesemutational processes occur in

livingspeciesonEarthotherthanhuman?”Therewasashortsilence,andthenArvardansaid,“Why,no,ithasn’t,though,

ofcourse,itisquiteinevitable,nowthatyoumentionit.”“Thatisso.Ithappens.Ourdomesticanimalsexistingreatervarietythanon

anyotherinhabitedworld.Theorangeyouateisamutatedvariety,whichexistsnowhere else. It is this, among other things, which makes the orange sounacceptable for export. Outsiders suspect it as they suspect us—and weourselves guard it as a valuable property peculiar to ourselves.And of coursewhatappliestoanimalsandplantsappliesalsotomicroscopiclife.”Andnow,indeed,Arvardanfeltthethinpangoffearenter.Hesaid,“Youmean—bacteria?”“Imeanthewholedomainofprimitive life.Protozoa,bacteria,and theself-

reproducingproteinsthatsomepeoplecallviruses.”“Andwhatareyougettingat?”“I think you have a notion of that, Dr. Arvardan. You seem suddenly

interested. You see, there is a belief among your people that Earthmen arebringersofdeath,thattoassociatewithanEarthmanistodie,thatEarthmenarethebearersofmisfortune,possessasortofevileye—”“Iknowallthat.Itismerelysuperstition.”

“Not entirely. That is the dreadful part. Like all common beliefs, howeversuperstitious, distorted, and perverted, it has a speck of truth at bottom.Sometimes,yousee,anEarthmancarrieswithinhisbodysomemutatedformofmicroscopicparasitewhichisnotquitelikeanyknownelsewhere,andtowhich,sometimes, Outsiders are not particularly resistant. What follows is simplebiology,Dr.Arvardan.”Arvardanwassilent.Shektwenton,“Wearecaughtsometimes, too,ofcourse.Anewspeciesof

germwillmakeitswayoutoftheradioactivemistsandanepidemicwillsweeptheplanet,but,byandlarge,Earthmenhavekeptpace.Foreachvarietyofgermandvirus,webuildourdefenseoverthegenerations,andwesurvive.Outsidersdon’thavetheopportunity.”“Doyoumean,”saidArvardanwithastrangelyfaintsensation,“thatcontact

withyounow—”Hepushedhis chairback.Hewas thinkingof the evening’skisses.Shektshookhishead.“Ofcoursenot.Wedon’tcreatethedisease;wemerely

carry it.Andevensuchcarriageoccursvery rarely. If I livedonyourworld, Iwouldnomorecarrythegermthanyouwould;Ihavenospecialaffinityforit.Even here it is only one out of every quadrillion germs, or one out of everyquadrillionofquadrillions,thatisdangerous.Thechancesofyourinfectionrightnow are less than that of a meteorite penetrating the roof of this house andhittingyou.Unlessthegermsinquestionaredeliberatelysearchedfor,isolated,andconcentrated.”Againa silence, longer this time.Arvardan said in aqueer, strangledvoice,

“HaveEarthmenbeendoingthat?”Hehadstoppedthinkingintermsofparanoia.Hewasreadytobelieve.“Yes. But for innocent reasons, at first. Our biologists are, of course,

particularlyinterestedinthepeculiaritiesofEarthlife,and,recently,isolatedthevirusofCommonFever.”“WhatisCommonFever?”“A mild endemic disease on Earth. That is, it is always with us. Most

Earthmen have it in their childhood, and its symptoms are not very severe.Amild fever, a transitory rash, and inflammation of the joints and of the lips,combinedwithanannoyingthirst.Itrunsitscourseinfourtosixdays,andthesubjectisthereafterimmune.I’vehadit.Polahashadit.Occasionallythereisamore virulent formof this samedisease—a slightly different strain of virus isconcerned,presumably—andthenitiscalledRadiationFever.”“RadiationFever.I’veheardofit,”saidArvardan.“Oh,really?ItiscalledRadiationFeverbecauseofthemistakennotionthatit

is caught after exposure to radioactive areas.Actually, exposure to radioactiveareasisoftenfollowedbyRadiationFever,becauseit is inthoseareasthat thevirus ismost apt tomutate todangerous forms.But it is thevirusandnot theradiationwhichdoesit.InthecaseofRadiationFever,symptomsdevelopinamatteroftwohours.Thelipsaresobadlyaffectedthatthesubjectcanscarcelytalk,andhemaybedeadinamatterofdays.“Now, Dr. Arvardan, this is the crucial point. The Earthman has adapted

himselftoCommonFeverandtheOutsiderhasnot.Occasionallyamemberofthe Imperial garrison is exposed to it, and, in that case, he reacts to it as anEarthmanwouldtoRadiationFever.Usuallyhedieswithintwelvehours.Heisthenburned—byEarthmen—sinceanyothersoldierapproachingalsodies.“Thevirus,as I say,was isolated tenyearsago. It isanucleoprotein,asare

most filtrable viruses, which, however, possesses the remarkable property ofcontaininganunusuallyhighconcentrationof radioactivecarbon, sulphur, andphosphorus.WhenIsayunusuallyhighImeanthatfiftypercentofitscarbon,sulphur, and phosphorus is radioactive. It is supposed that the effects of theorganism on its host is largely that of its radiations, rather than of its toxins.Naturally it would seem logical that Earthmen, who are adapted to gammaradiations, areonly slightly affected.Original research in thevirus centeredatfirstabout themethodwherebyitconcentrated its radioactive isotopes.Asyouknow, no chemicalmeans can separate isotopes except through very long andtediousprocedures.Norisanyorganismotherthanthisvirusknownwhichcandoso.Butthenthedirectionofresearchchanged.“I’ll be short,Dr.Arvardan. I think you see the rest.Experimentsmight be

conductedonanimalsfromoutsideEarth,butnotonOutsidersthemselves.Thenumbers of Outsiders on Earth were too few to allow several to disappearwithoutnotice.Norcouldprematurediscoveryof theirplansbeallowed.So itwas a group of bacteriologists thatwas sent to the Synapsifier, to returnwithinsightsenormouslydeveloped.Itwastheywhodevelopedanewmathematicalattackonproteinchemistryandonimmunology,whichenabledthemfinallytodevelopanartificial strainofvirus thatwasdesigned toaffectGalactichumanbeings—Outsiders—only.Tonsofthecrystallizedvirusnowexist.”Arvardanwashaggard.Hefeltthedropsofperspirationglidesluggishlydown

histempleandcheek.“Then you are tellingme,” he gasped, “that Earth intends to set loose this

virusontheGalaxy;thattheywillinitiateagiganticbacteriologicalwarfare—”“Whichwecannotloseandyoucannotwin.Exactly.Oncetheepidemicstarts,

millionswilldieeachday,andnothingwillstopit.Frightenedrefugeesfleeingacrossspacewillcarrytheviruswiththem,andifyouattempttoblowupentire

planets,thediseasecanbestartedagaininnewcenters.Therewillbenoreasonto connect the matter with Earth. By the time our own survival becomessuspicious, theravageswillhaveprogessedsofar, thedespairof theOutsiderswillbesodeep,thatnothingwillmattertothem.”“Andallwilldie?”Theappallinghorrordidnotpenetrate—couldnot.“Perhapsnot.Ournewscienceofbacteriologyworksbothways.Wehavethe

antitoxinaswell,andthemeansofproductionthereof.Itmightbeusedincaseofearlysurrender.Thentheremaybesomeout-of-the-wayeddiesoftheGalaxythatcouldescape,orevenafewcasesofnaturalimmunity.”In the horrible blankness that followed—during which Arvardan never

thoughtofdoubtingthetruthofwhathehadheard,thehorribletruthwhichatastrokewipedouttheoddsoftwenty-fivebilliontoone—Shekt’svoicewassmallandtired.“It is not Earth that is doing this. A handful of leaders, perverted by the

gigantic pressure that excluded them from theGalaxy, hating thosewho keepthemoutside,wantingtostrikebackatanycost,andwithinsaneintensity—“Oncetheyhavebegun,therestofEarthmustfollow.Whatcanitdo?Inits

tremendousguilt,itwillhavetofinishwhatitstarted.CoulditallowenoughoftheGalaxytosurviveandthusriskalaterpunishment?“YetbeforeIamanEarthman,Iamaman.Musttrillionsdieforthesakeof

millions?MustacivilizationspreadingoveraGalaxycrumbleforthesakeoftheresentment,howeverjustified,ofasingleplanet?Andwillwebebetteroffforall that? The power in the Galaxy will reside still on those worlds with thenecessaryresources—andwehavenone.EarthmenmayevenruleatTrantorfora generation, but their childrenwill becomeTrantorians, and in their turnwilllookdownupontheremnantonEarth.“Andbesides,isthereanadvantagetoHumanitytoexchangethetyrannyofa

GalaxyforthetyrannyofEarth?No—no—Theremustbeawayoutforallmen,awaytojusticeandfreedom.”Hishandsstoletohisface,andbehindtheirgnarledfingersherockedgently

toandfro.Arvardan had heard all this in a numbed haze. Hemumbled, “There is no

treasoninwhatyouhavedone,Dr.Shekt.IwillgotoEverestimmediately.TheProcuratorwillbelieveme.Hemustbelieveme.”Therewasthesoundofrunningfootsteps, theflashofafrightenedfaceinto

theroom,thedoorleftswingingopen.“Father—Menarecomingupthewalk.”Dr. Shekt went gray. “Quickly, Dr. Arvardan, through the garage.” Hewas

pushingviolently.“TakePola,anddon’tworryaboutme.I’llholdthemback.”

But aman in a green robewaited for them as they turned.Hewore a thinsmileandcarried,withacasualease,aneuronicwhip.Therewasathunderoffistsatthemaindoor,acrash,andthesoundofpoundingfeet.“Whoareyou?”demandedArvardaninafeebledefianceofthearmedgreen-

robe.HehadsteppedbeforePola.“I?” said Green-robe harshly. “I am merely the humble Secretary of His

Excellency,theHighMinister.”Headvanced.“Ialmostwaitedtoolong.Butnotquite.Hmm,agirl,too.Injudicious—”Arvardan said evenly, “I am a Galactic citizen, and I dispute your right to

detainme—or,forthatmatter,toenterthishouse—withoutlegalauthority.”“I”—andtheSecretarytappedhischestgentlywithhisfreehand—“amallthe

rightandauthorityonthisplanet.WithinashorttimeIwillbealltherightandauthorityintheGalaxy.Wehaveallofyou,youknow—evenSchwartz.”“Schwartz!”criedDr.ShektandPola,nearlytogether.“Youaresurprised?Come,Iwillbringyoutohim.”ThelastthingArvardanwasconsciousofwasthatsmile,expanding—andthe

flash of the whip. He toppled through a crimson sear of pain intounconsciousness.

16

ChooseYourSide!

ForthemomentSchwartzwasrestinguneasilyonahardbenchinoneofthesmallsub-basementroomsoftheChica“HallofCorrection.”TheHall,asitwascommonlytermed,wasthegreattokenofthelocalpower

of the HighMinister and those surrounding him. It lifted its gloominess in arocky,angularheightthatovershadowedtheImperialbarracksbeyondit,justasitsshadowclutchedattheTerrestrialmalefactorfarmorethandidtheun-exertedauthorityoftheEmpire.Within its walls many an Earthman in past centuries had waited for the

judgmentthatcametoonewhofalsifiedorevadedthequotasofproduction,wholivedpasthis time,or connivedat another’s suchcrime,orwhowasguiltyofattempting subversion of the local government. Occasionally, when the pettyprejudicesofTerrestrialjusticemadeparticularlylittlesensetothesophisticatedand usually blasé Imperial government of the time, a convictionmight be setaside by theProcurator, but thismeant insurrection, or, at the very least,wildriots.Ordinarily,wheretheCouncildemandeddeath, theProcuratoryielded.After

all,itwasonlyEarthmenwhosuffered—Ofallthis,JosephSchwartz,verynaturally,knewnothing.Tohim,immediate

opticalawarenessconsistedofasmallroom,itswallstransfusedwithbutadimlight,itsfurnitureconsistingoftwohardbenchesandatable,plusasmallrecessinthewallthatservedaswashroomandsanitaryconveniencecombined.There

wasnowindowforaglimpseofsky,andthedriftofairintotheroomthroughtheventilatingshaftwasfeeble.Herubbedthehairthatcircledhisbaldspotandsatupruefully.Hisattemptto

escapetonowhere(forwhereonEarthwashesafe?)hadbeenshort,notsweet,andhadendedhere.AtleasttherewastheMindTouchtoplaywith.Butwasthatbadorgood?Atthefarmithadbeenaqueer,disturbinggift,thenatureofwhichhedidnot

know,thepossibilitiesofwhichhedidnotthinkof.Nowitwasaflexiblegifttobeinvestigated.Withnothingtodofortwenty-fourhoursbutbroodonimprisonment,hecould

have been courting madness. As it was, he could Touch the jailers as theypassed, reach out for guardsmen in the adjacent corridors, extend the furthestfibrilsofhismindeventotheCaptainoftheHallinhisdistantoffice.Heturnedthemindsoverdelicatelyandprobedthem.Theyfellapartlikeso

manywalnuts—dryhusksoutofwhich emotions andnotions fell in a sibilantrain.Helearnedmuchin theprocessofEarthandEmpire—more thanhehad,or

couldhave,inalltwomonthsonthefarm.Ofcourseoneoftheitemsthathelearned,overandoveragain,beyondany

chanceofmistaking,wasjustthis:Hewascondemnedtodeath!Therewasnoescape,nodoubt,noreservation.Itmightbetoday;itmightbetomorrow.Buthewoulddie!Somehowitsankinandheaccepteditalmostgratefully.

Thedooropened,andhewasonhisfeet,intensefear.Onemightacceptdeathreasoningly,witheveryaspectoftheconsciousmind,butthebodywasabrutebeastthatknewnothingofreason.Thiswasit!No—itwasn’t.TheenteringMindTouchheldnothingofdeathinit.Itwasa

guardwithametalrodheldreadyinhishand.Schwartzknewwhatitwas.“Comewithme,”hesaidsharply.Schwartzfollowedhim,speculatingonthisoddpowerofhis.Longbeforehis

guardcouldusehisweapon,longbeforehecouldpossiblyknowheshould,hecouldbestruckdownwithoutasound,withoutagiveawaymoment.HisMindwasinSchwartz’smentalhands.Aslightsqueezeanditwouldbeover.Butwhy?Therewouldbeothers.Howmanycouldhehandleatonce?How

manypairsofhandswereinhismind?

Hefollowed,docilely.It was a large, large room that he was brought into. Two men and a girl

occupied it, stretchedoutcorpsewiseonhigh,highbenches.Yetnotcorpses—sincethreeactivemindsweremuchinevidence.Paralyzed!Familiar?...Weretheyfamiliar?Hewasstoppingtolook,buttheguard’shardhandwasonhisshoulder.“Get

on.”Therewasa fourthslab,empty.Therewasnodeath in theguard’smind,so

Schwartzclimbedon.Heknewwhatwascoming.Theguard’ssteelyrodtouchedeachofhislimbs.Theytingledandlefthim,so

thathewasnothingbutahead,floatingonnothingness.Heturnedit.“Pola,”hecried.“You’rePola,aren’tyou?Thegirlwho—”Shewasnodding.Hehadn’trecognizedherTouchassuch.Hehadneverbeen

awareof it that time twomonthsago.At that timehismentalprogressionhadreached only the stage of sensitivity to “atmosphere.” In the brilliance ofhindsight,herememberedthatwell.Butfromthecontentshecouldstilllearnmuch.TheonepastthegirlwasDr.

Shekt;theonefurthestofallwasDr.BelArvardan.Hecouldfilchtheirnames,sense their despair, taste the last dregsof horror and fright in theyounggirl’smind.For amoment he pitied them, and then he rememberedwho theywere and

whattheywere.Andhehardenedhisheart.Letthemdie!

Theotherthreehadbeenthereforthebetterpartofanhour.Theroominwhichtheywereleftwasevidentlyoneusedforassembliesofseveralhundred.The prisonerswere lost and lonely in its size.Norwas there anything to say.Arvardan’sthroatburneddrylyandheturnedhisheadfromsidetosidewithafutilerestlessness.Itwastheonlypartofhisbodythathecouldmove.Shekt’seyeswereclosedandhislipswerecolorlessandpinched.Arvardanwhisperedfiercely,“Shekt.Shekt,Isay!”“What?...What?”Afeeblewhisperatbest.“Whatareyoudoing?Goingtosleep?Think,man,think!”“Why?Whatistheretothinkof?”“WhoisthisJosephSchwartz?”Pola’svoicesounded,thinandweary.“Don’tyouremember,Bel?Thattime

inthedepartmentstore,whenIfirstmetyou—solongago?”

Arvardanwrenchedwildlyandfoundhecouldlifthisheadtwoachinginches.AbitofPola’sfacewasjustvisible.“Pola! Pola!” If he could have moved toward her—as for two months he

mighthaveandhadn’t.Shewaslookingathim,smilingsowanlythatitmightbeastatue’ssmile,andhesaid,“We’llwinoutyet.You’llsee.”Butshewasshakingherhead—andhisneckgaveway,itstendonsinpanging

agony.“Shekt,”hesaidagain.“Listentome.HowdidyoumeetthisSchwartz?Why

washeapatientofyours?”“TheSynapsifier.Hecameasavolunteer.”“Andwastreated?”“Yes.”Arvardanrevolvedthatinhismind.“Whatmadehimcometoyou?”“Idon’tknow.”“Butthen—MaybeheisanImperialagent.”(Schwartzfollowedhisthoughtwellandsmiledtohimself.Hesaidnothing,

andhemeanttokeeponsayingnothing.)Shekt stirred his head. “An Imperial agent? You mean because the High

Priest’sSecretarysaysheis.Oh,nonsense.Andwhatdifferencedoesitmake?He’s as helpless aswe. . . . Listen,Arvardan,maybe, ifwe tell some sort ofconcertedstory,theymightwait.Eventuallywemight—”Thearchaeologistlaughedhollowly,andhisthroatburnedatthefriction.“We

might live,youmean.With theGalaxydeadandcivilization in ruins?Live? Imightaswelldie!”“I’mthinkingofPola,”mutteredShekt.“Iamtoo,”saidtheother.“Askher....Pola,shallwesurrender?Shallwetry

tolive?”Pola’svoicewasfirm.“Ihavechosenmyside.Idon’twanttodie,butifmy

sidedies,I’llgowithit.”Arvardanfeltsomehowtriumphant.WhenhebroughthertoSirius,theymight

call her anEarthgirl, but shewas their equal, and hewould,with a great andgoodpleasure,smashteethintothethroatofany—And he remembered that he wasn’t likely to bring her to Sirius—to bring

anyonetoSirius.Therewasn’tlikelytobeaSirius.Then,asthoughtoescapefromthethought,toescapeanywhere,heshouted,

“You!Whatchername!Schwartz!”Schwartz raised his head for a moment and allowed a glance to ooze out

towardtheother.Hestillsaidnothing.“Who are you?” demandedArvardan. “How did you getmixed up in this?

What’syourpartinit?”Andatthequestion,alltheinjusticeofeverythingdescendedonSchwartz.All

theharmlessnessofhispast,all the infinitehorrorof thepresentburst inuponhim,so thathesaid ina fury,“I?Howdid Igetmixedup in it?Listen. Iwasonceanobody.Anhonestman,ahard-workingtailor.Ihurtnobody,Ibotherednobody, I took care ofmy family. And then, for no reason, for no reason—Icamehere.”“ToChica?”askedArvardan,whodidnotquitefollow.“No,nottoChica!”shoutedSchwartzinwildderision.“Icametothiswhole

madworld....Oh,whatdoIcareifyoubelievemeornot?Myworldisinthepast.Myworldhad landand foodand twobillionpeople, and itwas theonlyworld.”Arvardan fell silentbefore theverbal assault.He turned toShekt. “Canyou

understandhim?”“Do you realize,” said Shekt in feeble wonder, “that he has a vermiform

appendix,whichisthreeandahalfincheslong?Doyouremember,Pola?Andwisdomteeth.Andhaironhisface.”“Yes,yes,”shoutedSchwartzdefiantly.“AndIwishIhadatailIcouldshow

you. I’mfromthepast. I traveled through time.Only Idon’tknowhow,and Idon’tknowwhy.Nowleavemealone.”Headdedsuddenly,“Theywillsoonbehereforus.Thiswaitisjusttobreakus.”Arvardansaidsuddenly,“Doyouknowthat?Whotoldyou?”Schwartzdidnotanswer.“WasittheSecretary?Stockymanwithapugnose?”SchwartzhadnowayoftellingthephysicalappearanceofthoseheTouched

only by mind, but—secretary? There had been just a glimpse of a Touch, apowerfuloneofamanofpower,anditseemedhehadbeenasecretary.“Balkis?”heaskedincuriosity.“What?” said Arvardan, but Shekt interrupted, “That’s the name of the

Secretary.”“Oh—Whatdidhesay?”“Hedidn’tsayanything,”saidSchwartz.“Iknow.It’sdeathforallofus,and

there’snowayout.”Arvardanloweredhisvoice.“He’smad,wouldn’tyousay?”“Iwonder....Hisskullsutures,now.Theywereprimitive,veryprimitive.”Arvardanwasamazed.“Youmean—Oh,come,it’simpossible.”“I’ve always supposed so.” For the moment Shekt’s voice was a feeble

imitation of normality, as though the presence of a scientific problem hadswitched his mind to that detached and objective groove in which personal

mattersdisappeared.“They’vecalculatedtheenergyrequiredtodisplacematteralongthetimeaxisandavaluegreaterthaninfinitywasarrivedat,sotheprojecthas always been looked upon as impossible. But others have talked of thepossibilityof‘timefaults,’analogoustogeologicalfaults,youknow.Spaceshipshavedisappeared,foronething,almostinfullview.There’sthefamouscaseofHorDevallow inancient times,whostepped intohishouseonedayandnevercameout,andwasn’tinside,either....Andthenthere’stheplanet,whichyou’llfindintheGalactographybooksofthelastcentury,whichwasvisitedbythreeexpeditionsthatbroughtbackfulldescriptions—andthenwasneverseenagain.“Thentherearecertaindevelopmentsinnuclearchemistrythatseemtodeny

the law of conservation of mass-energy. They’ve tried to explain that bypostulating the escape of somemass along the time axis.Uranium nuclei, forinstance,whenmixedwithcopperandbariuminminutebutdefiniteproportions,undertheinfluenceoflightgammairradiation,setuparesonatingsystem—”“Father,”saidPola,“don’t!There’snouse—”ButArvardan’s interruptionwas peremptory. “Wait, now.Letme think. I’m

theonewhocansettle this.Whobetter?Letmeaskhima fewquestions. . . .Look,Schwartz.”Schwartzlookedupagain.“YourswastheonlyworldintheGalaxy?”Schwartznodded,thensaiddully,“Yes.”“But you only thought that. I mean you didn’t have space travel, so you

couldn’tcheckup.Theremighthavebeenmanyotherinhabitedworlds.”“Ihavenowayoftellingthat.”“Yes,ofcourse.Apity.Whataboutatomicpower?”“We had an atomic bomb. Uranium—and plutonium—I guess that’s what

madethisworldradioactive.Theremusthavebeenanotherwarafterall—afterIleft....Atomicbombs.”SomehowSchwartzwasbackinChicago,backinhisoldworld, before the bombs.And hewas sorry.Not for himself, but for thatbeautifulworld....ButArvardanwasmutteringtohimself.Then,“Allright.Youhadalanguage,

ofcourse.”“Earth?Lotsofthem.”“Howaboutyou?”“English—afterIwasagrownman.”“Well,saysomethinginit.”FortwomonthsormoreSchwartzhadsaidnothinginEnglish.Butnow,with

lovingness,hesaidslowly,“Iwanttogohomeandbewithmyownpeople.”Arvardan spoke to Shekt. “Is that the language he used when he was

Synapsified,Shekt?”“I can’t tell,” said Shekt, in mystification. “Queer sounds then and queer

soundsnow.HowcanIrelatethem?”“Well, never mind. . . . What’s your word for ‘mother’ in your language,

Schwartz?”Schwartztoldhim.“Uh-huh.Howabout‘father’...‘brother’...‘one’—thenumeral,thatis...

‘two’...‘three’...‘house’...‘man’...‘wife’...”Thiswentonandon,andwhenArvardanpausedforbreathhisexpressionwas

oneofawedbewilderment.“Shekt,” he said, “either thisman is genuineor I’m thevictimof aswild a

nightmareascanbeconceived.He’sspeakingalanguagepracticallyequivalenttotheinscriptionsfoundinthefifty-thousand-year-oldstrataonSirius,Arcturus,AlphaCentauri, and twenty others.He speaks it. The language has only beendeciphered in the last generation, and there aren’t a dozenmen in theGalaxybesidesmyselfwhocanunderstandit.”“Areyousureofthis?”“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. I’m an archaeologist. It’smy business to

know.”ForaninstantSchwartzfelthisarmorofaloofnesscracking.Forthefirsttime

hefelthimselfregainingtheindividualityhehadlost.Thesecretwasout;hewasamanfromthepast,andtheyacceptedit.Itprovedhimsane,stilledforeverthathauntingdoubt,andhewasgrateful.Andyetheheldaloof.“I’vegot tohavehim.”ItwasArvardanagain,burning in theholyflameof

hisprofession.“Shekt,youhavenoideawhatthismeanstoarchaeology.Shekt—it’saman from thepast.Oh,GreatSpace! . . .Listen,wecanmakeadeal.ThisistheproofEarthislookingfor.Theycanhavehim.Theycan—”Schwartz interrupted sardonically. “I knowwhat you’re thinking.You think

thatEarthwillprove itself tobe thesourceofcivilization throughmeand thattheywill begrateful for it. I tell you,no! I’ve thoughtof it and Iwouldhavebarteredformyownlife.Buttheywon’tbelieveme—oryou.”“There’sabsoluteproof.”“They won’t listen. Do you know why? Because they have certain fixed

notionsaboutthepast.Anychangewouldbeblasphemyintheireyes,evenifitwerethetruth.Theydon’twantthetruth;theywanttheirtraditions.”“Bel,”saidPola,“Ithinkhe’sright.”Arvardangroundhisteeth.“Wecouldtry.”“Wewouldfail,”insistedSchwartz.“Howcanyouknow?”

“Iknow!”AndthewordsfellwithsuchoracularinsistencethatArvardanwassilentbeforethem.Itwas Shektwhowas looking at him nowwith a strange light in his tired

eyes.Heaskedsoftly,“HaveyoufeltanybadeffectsasaresultoftheSynapsifier?”Schwartzdidn’tknowthewordbutcaught themeaning.Theyhadoperated,

andonhismind.Howmuchhewaslearning!Hesaid,“Nobadeffects.”“ButIseeyoulearnedour languagerapidly.Youspeakitverywell. Infact,

youmightbeanative.Doesn’titsurpriseyou?”“Ialwayshadaverygoodmemory,”wasthecoldresponse.“Andsoyoufeelnodifferentnowthanbeforeyouweretreated?”“That’sright.”Dr.Shekt’seyeswerehardnow,andhesaid,“Whydoyoubother?Youknow

thatI’mcertainyouknowwhatI’mthinking.”Schwartzlaughedshortly.“ThatIcanreadminds?Well,whatofit?”But Shekt had dropped him. He had turned his white, helpless face to

Arvardan.“Hecansenseminds,Arvardan.HowmuchIcoulddowithhim.Andtobehere—tobehelpless...”“What—what—what—”Arvardanpoppedwildly.AndevenPola’sfacesomehowgainedinterest.“Canyoureally?”sheasked

Schwartz.Henoddedather.Shehadtakencareofhim,andnowtheywouldkillher.Yet

shewasatraitor.Shekt was saying, “Arvardan, you remember the bacteriologist I told you

about,theonewhodiedasaresultoftheeffectsoftheSynapsifier?Oneofthefirst symptoms ofmental breakdownwas his claim that he could readminds.Andhecould.Ifoundthatoutbeforehedied,andit’sbeenmysecret.I’vetoldnoone—butit’spossible,Arvardan,it’spossible.Yousee,withtheloweringofbrain-cell resistance, the brain may be able to pick up the magnetic fieldsinduced by themicrocurrents of others’ thoughts and reconvert it into similarvibrations in itself. It’s the same principle as that of any ordinary recorder. Itwouldbetelepathyineverysenseoftheword—”SchwartzmaintainedastubbornandhostilesilenceasArvardanturnedslowly

in his direction. “If this is so, Shekt, we might be able to use him.” Thearchaeologist’smindwas spinningwildly,working out impossibilities. “Theremaybeawayoutnow.Theremustbeawayout.ForusandtheGalaxy.”ButSchwartzwascoldtothetumultintheMindTouchhesensedsoclearly.

He said, “You mean by my reading their minds? How would that help? Of

courseIcandomorethanreadminds.How’sthat,forinstance?”Itwasalightpush,butArvardanyelpedatthesuddenpainofit.“Ididthat,”saidSchwartz.“Wantmore?”Arvardangasped,“Youcandothattotheguards?TotheSecretary?Whydid

youletthembringyouhere?GreatGalaxy,Shekt, there’llbenotrouble.Now,listen,Schwartz—”“No,”saidSchwartz,“youlisten.WhydoIwanttogetout?WherewillIbe?

Still on this deadworld. Iwant to go home, and I can’t go home. Iwantmypeopleandmyworld,andIcan’thavethem.AndIwanttodie.”“Butit’saquestionofalltheGalaxy,Schwartz.Youcan’tthinkofyourself.”“Can’tI?Whynot?MustIworryaboutyourGalaxynow?IhopeyourGalaxy

rotsanddies. IknowwhatEarth isplanning todo, and I amglad.Theyoungladysaidbeforeshehadchosenherside.Well,I’vechosenmyside,andmysideisEarth.”“What?”“Whynot?I’manEarthman!”

17

ChangeYourSide!

An hour had passed since Arvardan had first waded thickly out ofunconsciousnesstofindhimselfslabbedlikeasideofbeefawaitingthecleaver.And nothing had happened. Nothing but this feverish, inconclusive talk thatunbearablypassedtheunbearabletime.Noneofitlackedpurpose.Heknewthatmuch.Tolieprone,helpless,without

eventhedignityofaguard,withouteventhatmuchconcessiontoaconceivabledanger,wastobecomeconsciousofoverwhelmingweakness.Astubbornspiritcould not survive it, and when the inquisitor did arrive there would be littledefiance,ornone,forhimtobepresentedwith.Arvardanneededabreakinthesilence.Hesaid,“IsupposethisplaceisSpy-

waved.Weshouldhavetalkedless.”“Itisn’t,”cameSchwartz’svoiceflatly.“There’snobodylistening.”The archaeologist was ready with an automatic “How do you know?” but

neversaidit.Forapowerlikethattoexist!Andnotforhim,butforamanofthepastwho

calledhimselfanEarthmanandwantedtodie!Within optical sweep was only a patch of ceiling. Turning, he could see

Shekt’sangularprofile;theotherway,ablankwall.Ifheliftedhisheadhecouldmakeout,foramoment,Pola’spale,wornexpression.OccasionallytherewastheburningthoughtthathewasamanoftheEmpire

—of the Empire, by the Stars; a Galactic citizen—and that there was a

particularlyvileinjusticeinhisimprisonment,aparticularlydeepimpurityinthefactthathehadallowedEarthmentodothistohim.Andthatfadedtoo.TheymighthaveputhimnexttoPola...No,itwasbetterthisway.Hewas

notaninspiringsight.“Bel?”Theword trembled intosoundandwasstrangelysweet toArvardan,

comingasitdidinthisvortexofcomingdeath.“Yes,Pola?”“Doyouthinkthey’llbemuchlonger?”“Maybenot,darling....It’stoobad.Wewastedtwomonths,didn’twe?”“My fault,” she whispered. “My fault. We might have had these last few

minutes,though.It’sso—unnecessary.”Arvardancouldnotanswer.Hismindwhirredincirclesofthought,lostona

greasedwheel.Wasithisimagination,ordidhefeelthehardplasticonwhichhewassostifflylaid?Howlongwouldtheparalysislast?Schwartzmustbemadetohelp.Hetriedguardinghisthoughts—knewittobe

ineffective.Hesaid,“Schwartz—”

Schwartz lay there as helpless, and with an added, un-calculatedrefinementtohissuffering.Hewasfourmindsinone.By himself he might have maintained his own shrinking eagerness for the

infinitepeaceandquietofdeath,foughtdownthelastremnantsofthatloveoflife which even as recently as two days previously—three?—had sent himreelingawayfromthefarm.Buthowcouldhe?With thepoor,weakhorrorofdeaththathunglikeapalloverShekt;withthestrongchagrinandrebellionofArvardan’s hard, vitalmind;with the deep and pathetic disappointment of theyounggirl.He should have closed his own mind. What did he need to know of the

sufferingsofothers?Hehadhisownlifetolive,hisowndeathtodie.Buttheybatteredathim,softly,incessantly—probingandsiftingthroughthe

crannies.AndArvardan said, “Schwartz,” then, andSchwartz knew that theywanted

himtosavethem.Whyshouldhe?Whyshouldhe?“Schwartz,”repeatedArvardaninsinuatingly,“youcanliveahero.Youhave

nothingtodieforhere—notforthosemenoutthere.”ButSchwartzwasgathering thememoriesofhisownyouth,clutching them

desperately to his wavering mind. It was a queer amalgamation of past and

presentthatfinallybroughtforthhisindignation.Buthespokecalmly,restrainedly.“Yes,Icanliveahero—andatraitor.They

wanttokillme,thosemenoutthere.Youcallthemmen,butthatwaswithyourtongue;yourmindcalledthemsomethingIdidn’tget,but itwasvile.Andnotbecausetheywerevile,butbecausetheywereEarthmen.”“That’salie,”hotly.“Thatisnotalie,”ashotly,“andeveryonehereknowsthat.Theywanttokill

me,yes—butthatisbecausetheythinkI’moneofyourkindofpeople,whocancondemnanentireplanetatastrokeanddrenchitwithyourcontempt,chokeitslowly with your insufferable superiority.Well, protect yourself against theseworms and vermin who are somehow managing to threaten their Godlikeoverlords.Don’taskforthehelpofoneofthem.”“You talk like a Zealot,” saidArvardanwith amazement. “Why?Have you

suffered?Youwereamemberofa largeand independentplanet,yousay.YouwereanEarthmanwhenEarthwasthesolerepositoryoflife.You’reoneofus,man;oneoftherulers.Whyassociateyourselfwithadesperateremnant?Thisisnot theplanetyouremember.Myplanet ismore like theoldEarth than is thisdiseasedworld.”Schwartz laughed. “I’mone of the rulers, you say?Well,wewon’t go into

that.Itisn’tworthexplaining.Let’stakeyouinstead.You’reafinesampleoftheproductsentusbytheGalaxy.Youaretolerantandwonderfullybighearted,andadmire yourself because you treatDr. Shekt as an equal.But underneath—yetnot so far underneath that I can’t see it plainly in your mind—you areuncomfortablewithhim.Youdon’tlikethewayhetalksorthewayhelooks.Infact,youdon’tlikehim,eventhoughheisofferingtobetrayEarth....Yes,andyoukissedagirlofEarthrecentlyandlookbackuponitasaweakness.You’reashamedofit—”“BytheStars,I’mnot....Pola,”desperately,“don’tbelievehim.Don’tlisten

tohim.”Pola spokequietly. “Don’t deny it, ormakeyourself unhappy about it,Bel.

He’slookingbelowthesurfacetotheresidueofyourchildhood.Hewouldseethesame ifhe looked intomine.Hewouldsee things similar ifhecould lookintohisowninasungentlemanlyafashionasheprobesours.”Schwartzfelthimselfreddening.Pola’s voice did not rise in pitch or intensity as she addressedhimdirectly.

“Schwartz,ifyoucansenseminds,investigatemine.TellmeifIintendtreason.Lookatmyfather.SeeifitisnottruethathecouldhaveavoidedtheSixtyeasilyenoughifhehadco-operatedwiththemadmenwhowillruintheGalaxy.Whathashegainedbyhistreason?...Andlookagain,seeifanyofuswishtoharm

EarthorEarthmen.“You say you have caught a glimpse of Balkis’s mind. I don’t knowwhat

chanceyouhavehad topoke through itsdregs.Butwhenhe’sback,when it’stoolate,siftit,strainhisthoughts.Findoutthathe’samadman—Then,die!”Schwartzwassilent.Arvardanbrokeinhurriedly,“Allright,Schwartz,tacklemymindnow.Goas

deepasyouwant.IwasbornonBaronnintheSiriusSector.Ilivedmylifeinanatmosphere of anti-Terrestrialism in the formative years, so I can’t help whatflawsandfollieslieattherootsofmysubconscious.Butlookonthesurfaceandtellmeif,inmyadultyears,Ihavenotfoughtbigotryinmyself.Notinothers;thatwouldbeeasy.Butinmyself,andashardasIcould.“Schwartz,youdon’tknowourhistory!Youdon’tknowofthethousandsand

tensofthousandsofyearsinwhichManspreadthroughtheGalaxy—ofthewarsandmisery.Youdon’tknowofthefirstcenturiesoftheEmpire,whenstilltherewasmerelyaconfusionofalternatingdespotismandchaos.Itisonlyinthelasttwo hundred years, now, that our Galactic government has become arepresentative one. Under it the various worlds are allowed their culturalautonomy—havebeenallowedtogovernthemselves—havebeenallowedvoicesinthecommonruleofall.“At no time in history hasHumanity been as free fromwar and poverty as

now;atnotimehasGalacticeconomybeensowiselyadjusted;atnotimehaveprospectsforthefuturebeenasbright.Wouldyoudestroyitandbeginallover?And with what? A despotic theocracy with only the unhealthy elements ofsuspicionandhatredinit.“Earth’s grievance is legitimate and will be solved someday, if the Galaxy

lives. But what they will do is no solution. Do you know what they intenddoing?”IfArvardan had had the ability that had come to Schwartz, hewould have

detectedthestruggleinSchwartz’smind.Intuitively,however,heknewthetimehadcometohaltforamoment.Schwartz was moved. All those worlds to die—to fester and dissolve in

horribledisease...WasheanEarthmanafterall?SimplyanEarthman?Inhisyouth he had leftEurope and gone toAmerica, butwas he not the samemandespite that?And if after himmen had left a torn andwounded earth for theworldsbeyond the sky,were they lessEarthmen?Wasnot all theGalaxyhis?Werenottheyall—all—descendedfromhimselfandhisbrothers?Hesaidheavily,“Allright,I’mwithyou.HowcanIhelp?”“How far out can you reach for minds?” asked Arvardan eagerly, with a

hasteningquicknessasthoughafraidstillofalastchangeofmind.

“Idon’tknow.Therearemindsoutside.Guards,Isuppose.IthinkIcanreachoutintothestreeteven,butthefartherIgo,thelesssharpitbecomes.”“Naturally,”saidArvardan.“ButhowabouttheSecretary?Couldyouidentify

hismind?”“Idon’tknow,”mumbledSchwartz.Apause...Theminutesstretchedbyunbearably.Schwartz said, “Your minds are in the way. Don’t watch me. Think of

somethingelse.”Theytriedto.Anotherpause.Then,“No—Ican’t—Ican’t.”Arvardansaidwithasuddenintensity,“Icanmoveabit—GreatGalaxy,Ican

wigglemyfeet....Ouch!”Eachmotionwasasavagetwinge.Hesaid,“Howhardcanyouhurt someone,Schwartz?Canyoudo itharder

thanthewayyouhurtmeawhileback,Imean?”“I’vekilledaman.”“Youhave?Howdidyoudothat?”“I don’t know. It just gets done. It’s—it’s—” Schwartz looked almost

comicallyhelplessinhisefforttoputthewordlessintowords.“Well,canyouhandlemorethanoneatatime?”“I’venevertried,butIdon’tthinkso.Ican’treadtwomindsatonetime.”Polainterrupted.“Youcan’thavehimkilltheSecretary,Bel.Itwon’twork.”“Whynot?”“Howwillwegetout?EvenifwecaughttheSecretaryaloneandkilledhim,

therewouldbehundredswaitingforusoutside.Don’tyouseethat?”ButSchwartzbrokein,huskily,“I’vegothim.”“Whom?”Itcamefromallthree.EvenShektwasstaringwildlyathim.“TheSecretary.Ithinkit’shisMindTouch.”“Don’tlethimgo.”Arvardanalmostrolledoverinhisattemptsatexhortation,

and tumbled off the slab, thumping to the floor with one half-paralyzed legworkingfutilelytowedgeunderneathhisbodyandlift.Pola cried, “You’re hurt!” and suddenly found the hinges of her arm

uncreakingasshetriedtoliftherelbow.“No,it’sallright.Suckhimdry,Schwartz.Getalltheinformationyoucan.”Schwartzreachedoutuntilhisheadached.Heclutchedandclawedwith the

tendrilsofhisownmind,blindly,clumsily—likeaninfantthrustingoutfingersitcan’t quite handle for an object it can’t quite reach. Until now he had takenwhateverhecouldfind,butnowhewaslooking—looking—Painfully,hecaughtwisps.“Triumph!He’ssureoftheresults....Something

aboutspacebullets.He’sstartedthem....No,notstarted.Somethingelse....He’sgoingtostartthem.”

Shekt groaned. “They’re automatically guided missiles to carry the virus,Arvardan.Aimedatthevariousplanets.”“Butwherearetheykept,Schwartz?”insistedArvardan.“Look,man,look—”“There’s abuilding I—can’t—quite—see. . . .Fivepoints—a star—aname;

Sloo,maybe—”Shektbrokeinagain.“That’s it.Byall thestars in theGalaxy, that’s it.The

TempleofSenloo. It’s surroundedby radioactivepocketson all sides.NoonewouldevergotherebuttheAncients.Isitnearthemeetingoftwolargerivers,Schwartz?”“Ican’t—Yes—yes—yes.”“When,Schwartz,when?Whenwilltheybesetoff?”“Ican’tseetheday,butsoon—soon.Hismindisburstingwiththat—Itwillbe

verysoon.”Hisownheadseemedburstingwiththeeffort.Arvardanwasdryand feverishashe raisedhimself finally tohishandsand

knees,thoughtheywobbledandgaveunderhim.“Ishecoming?”“Yes.He’satthedoor.”Hisvoicesankandstoppedasthedooropened.Balkis’svoicewasoneofcoldderisionashefilledtheroomwithsuccessand

triumph.“Dr.Arvardan!Hadyounotbetterreturntoyourseat?”Arvardan looked up at him, conscious of the cruel indignity of his own

position, but there was no answer to make, and he made none. Slowly heallowedhisachinglimbstolowerhimtotheground.Hewaitedthere,breathingheavily.Ifhislimbscouldreturnabitmore,ifhecouldmakealastlunge,ifhecouldsomehowseizetheother’sweapons—That was no neuronic whip that dangled so gently from the smoothly

gleamingFlexiplastbeltthatheldtheSecretary’srobeinplace.Itwasafull-sizeblasterthatcouldshredamantoatomsinaninstantaneouspointoftime.TheSecretarywatchedthefourbeforehimwithasavagesenseofsatisfaction.

Thegirlhetendedtoignore,butotherwiseitwasacleansweep.TherewastheEarthmantraitor;theretheImperialagent;andtherethemysteriouscreaturetheyhadbeenwatchingfortwomonths.Werethereanyothers?Tobesure,therewasstillEnnius,andtheEmpire.Theirarms,inthepersonof

these spies and traitors, were pinioned, but there remained an active brainsomewhere—perhapstosendoutotherarms.TheSecretary stood easily, hands clasped in contemptuousdisregardof any

possiblenecessityofquicklyreachinghisweapon.Hespokequietlyandgently.“Nowitisnecessarytomakethingsabsolutelyclear.ThereiswarbetweenEarthandtheGalaxy—undeclaredasyet,but,nevertheless,war.Youareourprisonersandwillbe treatedaswillbenecessaryunder thecircumstances.Naturally the

recognizedpunishmentforspiesandtraitorsisdeath—”“Onlyinthecaseoflegalanddeclaredwar,”brokeinArvardanfiercely.“Legal war?” questioned the Secretary with more than a trace of a sneer.

“Whatislegalwar?EarthhasalwaysbeenatwarwiththeGalaxy,whetherwemadepolitementionofthefactornot.”“Don’tbotherwithhim,”saidPolatoArvardansoftly.“Lethimhavehissay

andfinishwithit.”Arvardansmiledinherdirection.Aqueer,spasmodicsmile,foritwaswitha

vaststrainthathestaggeredtohisfeetandremainedthere,gasping.Balkislaughedsoftly.Withunhurriedstepsheshortenedthedistancebetween

himself and the Sirian archaeologist to nothing. With an equally unhurriedgestureherestedasofthanduponthebroadchestoftheotherandshoved.With splintering arms that would not respond to Arvardan’s demand for a

wardingmotion,with stagnant trunkmuscles that could not adjust the body’sbalanceatmorethansnailspeed,Arvardantoppled.Polagasped.Lashingherownrebelliousfleshandbone,shedescendedfrom

herparticularbenchslowly—soslowly.BalkislethercrawltowardArvardan.“Yourlover,”hesaid.“YourstrongOutsiderlover.Runtohim,girl!Whydo

youwait?Claspyourhero tightlyand forget inhis arms thathe steams in thesweat and blood of a billionmartyred Earthmen. And there he lies, bold andvaliant—broughttoEarthbythegentlepushofanEarthman’shand.”Polawasonherkneesbesidehimnow,her fingersprobingbeneath thehair

forbloodorthedeadlysoftnessofcrushedbone.Arvardan’seyesopenedslowlyandhislipsformeda“Nevermind!”“He’sacoward,”saidPola,“whowouldfightaparalyzedmanandboasthis

victory.Believeme,darling,fewEarthmenarelikethat.”“Iknowit,oryouwouldnotbeanEarthwoman.”TheSecretarystiffened.“AsIsaid,allliveshereareforfeit,but,nevertheless,

canbebought.Areyouinterestedintheprice?”Polasaidproudly,“Inourcase,youwouldbe.ThatIknow.”“Ssh,Pola.”Arvardanhadnotyetrecoveredhisbreathentirely.“Whatareyou

proposing?”“Oh,” said Balkis, “you are willing to sell yourself? As I would be, for

instance?I,avileEarthman?”“Youknowbestwhatyouare,”retortedArvardan.“Asfortherest,Iamnot

sellingmyself;Iambuyingher.”“Irefusetobebought,”saidPola.“Touching,” grated the Secretary. “He stoops to our females, our Earthie-

squaws—andcanstillplay-actatsacrifice.”“Whatareyouproposing?”demandedArvardan.“This.Obviously,wordofourplanshasleakedout.HowitgottoDr.Shektis

notdifficult tosee,buthowitgot to theEmpire ispuzzling.Wewouldlike toknow, therefore, justwhat theEmpiredoesknow.Notwhatyouhave learned,Arvardan,butwhattheEmpirenowknows.”“I am an archaeologist and not a spy,” bit out Arvardan. “I don’t know

anythingatallaboutwhattheEmpireknows—butIhopetheyknowadamnedlot.”“SoIimagine.Well,youmaychangeyourmind.Think,allofyou.”Throughout,Schwartzhadcontributednothing;norhadheraisedhiseyes.TheSecretarywaited, then said,perhapsa trifle savagely, “Then I’lloutline

thepricetoyouofyournon-co-operation.Itwillnotbesimplydeath,sinceIamquite certain that all of you are prepared for that unpleasant and inevitableeventuality.Dr.Shektandthegirl,hisdaughter,who,unfortunatelyforherself,isimplicatedtoadeadlyextent,arecitizensofEarth.Underthecircumstances,itwill be most appropriate to have both subjected to the Synapsifier. Youunderstand,Dr.Shekt?”Thephysicist’seyeswerepoolsofpurehorror.“Yes, I see you do,” said Balkis. “It is, of course, possible to allow the

Synapsifiertodamagebraintissuejustsufficientlytoallowtheproductionofanacerebralimbecile.Itisamostdisgustingstate:oneinwhichyouwillhavetobefed,orstarve;becleaned,orliveindung;beshutup,orremainastudyinhorrortoallwhosee.Itmaybealessontoothersinthegreatdaythatiscoming.“As for you”—and the Secretary turned to Arvardan—“and your friend

Schwartz, you are Imperial citizens, and therefore suitable for an interestingexperiment.Wehavenever tried our concentrated fever virus onyouGalacticdogs.Itwouldbeinterestingtoshowourcalculationscorrect.Asmalldose,yousee,sothatdeathisnotquick.Thediseasemightworkitswaytotheinevitableover a period of aweek, ifwe dilute the injection sufficiently. Itwill be verypainful.”Andnowhepausedandwatchedthemthroughslittedeyes.“Allthat,”hesaid,

“is the alternative to a fewwell-chosenwords at the present time.Howmuchdoes theEmpireknow?Have theyother agents active at thepresentmoment?Whataretheirplans,ifany,forcounteraction?”Dr.Shektmuttered,“Howdoweknowthatyouwon’thaveuskilledanyway,

onceyouhavewhatyouwantofus?”“Youhavemyassurancethatyouwilldiehorriblyifyourefuse.Youwillhave

togambleonthealternative.Whatdoyousay?”

“Can’twehavetime?”“Isn’tthatwhatI’mgivingyounow?TenminuteshavepassedsinceIentered,

andIamstilllistening....Well,haveyouanythingtosay?What,nothing?Timewillnotendureforever,youmustrealize.Arvardan,youstillknotyourmuscles.YouthinkperhapsyoucanreachmebeforeIcandrawmyblaster.Well,whatifyoucan?There arehundredsoutside, andmyplanswill continuewithoutme.Evenyourseparatemodesofpunishmentwillcontinuewithoutme.“Or perhaps you, Schwartz. You killed our agent. It was you, was it not?

Perhapsyouthinkyoucankillme?”For the first time Schwartz looked at Balkis. He said coldly, “I can, but I

won’t.”“Thatiskindofyou.”“Notatall.Itisverycruelofme.Yousayyourselfthattherearethingsworse

thansimpledeath.”ArvardanfoundhimselfsuddenlystaringatSchwartzinavasthope.

18

Duel!

Schwartz’smindwaswhirling. In a queer, hectic way he felt at ease.Therewasapieceofhim that seemed inabsolutecontrolof thesituation,andmoreofhimthatcouldnotbelievethat.Paralysishadbeenappliedlatertohimthan to the others.EvenDr. Shektwas sitting up,while he himself could justbudgeanarmandlittlemore.And, staring up at the leering mind of the Secretary, infinitely foul and

infinitelyevil,hebeganhisduel.Hesaid,“Iwasonyoursideoriginally,forallthatyouwerepreparingtokill

me.IthoughtIunderstoodyourfeelingsandyourintentions....Butthemindsof these others here are relatively innocent and pure, and yours is pastdescription.ItisnotevenfortheEarthmanyoufight,butforyourownpersonalpower.IseeinyounotavisionofafreeEarth,butofare-enslavedEarth.IseeinyounotthedisruptionoftheImperialpower,butitsreplacementbyapersonaldictatorship.”“Youseeallthat,doyou?”saidBalkis.“Well,seewhatyouwish.Idon’tneed

yourinformationafterall,youknow—notsobadlythatImustendureinsolence.We have advanced the hour of striking, it seems. Had you expected that?Amazingwhat pressurewill do, even on thosewho swear thatmore speed isimpossible.Didyouseethat,mydramaticmindreader?”Schwartzsaid,“Ididn’t.Iwasn’tlookingforit,anditpassedmynotice....

But I can look for it now. Two days—Less—Let’s see—Tuesday—six in the

morning—Chicatime.”TheblasterwasintheSecretary’shand,finally.Headvancedinabruptstrides

andtoweredoverSchwartz’sdroopingfigure.“Howdidyouknowthat?”Schwartz stiffened; somewhere mental tendrils bunched and grasped.

Physically his jaw muscles clamped rigorously shut and his eyebrows curledlow,but thesewerepurely irrelevant—involuntaryaccompaniments to the realeffort.Withinhisbrain therewasthatwhichreachedoutandseizedhardupontheMindTouchoftheother.ToArvardan, forprecious,wasting seconds, the scenewasmeaningless; the

Secretary’ssuddenmotionlesssilencewasnotsignificant.Schwartzmutteredgaspingly,“I’vegothim. . . .Takeawayhisgun. Ican’t

holdon—”Itdiedawayinagurgle.AndthenArvardanunderstood.Withalurchhewasonallfours.Thenslowly,

grindingly,heliftedhimselfoncemore,bymainforce,toanunsteadyerectness.Pola tried to risewith him, could not quitemake it. Shekt edged off his slab,sinkingtohisknees.OnlySchwartzlaythere,hisfaceworking.TheSecretarymighthavebeenstruckbytheMedusasight.Onhissmoothand

unfurrowed forehead perspiration gathered slowly, and his expressionless facehintedofnoemotion.Onlythatrighthand,holdingtheblaster,showedanysignsoflife.Watchclosely,andyoumightseeitjerkeversogently;notethecuriousflexingpressureofituponthecontactbutton:agentlepressure,notenoughtodoharm,butreturning,andreturning—“Holdhimtight,”gaspedArvardanwithaferociousjoy.Hesteadiedhimself

onthebackofachairandtriedtogainhisbreath.“Letmegettohim.”Hisfeetdragged.Hewasinanightmare,wadingthroughmolasses,swimming

throughtar;pullingwithtornmuscles,soslowly—soslowly.He was not—could not be—conscious of the terrific duel that proceeded

beforehim.TheSecretaryhadonlyoneaim,andthatwastoputjustthetiniestforceinto

his thumb—three ounces, to be exact, since that was the contact pressurerequired for the blaster’s operation. To do so his mind had only to instruct aquiveringlybalancedtendon,alreadyhalfcontracted,to—to—Schwartzhadonlyoneaim,andthatwastorestrainthatpressure—butinall

theinchoatemassofsensationpresentedtohimbytheother’sMindTouch,hecouldnotknowwhichparticularareawasaloneconcernedwiththatthumb.Soitwasthathebenthiseffortstoproduceastasis,acompletestasis—TheSecretary’sMindTouchheaved andbillowedagainst restraint. Itwas a

quickandfearfully intelligentmind thatconfrontedSchwartz’suntriedcontrol.

Forsecondsitremainedquiescent,waiting—then,inaterrific,tearingattempt,itwouldtugwildlyatthismuscleorthat—To Schwartz it was as if he had seized a wrestling hold which he must

maintainatallcosts,thoughhisopponentthrewhimaboutinfrenzies.But none of this showed. Only the nervous clenching and unclenching of

Schwartz’s jaw; the quivering lips, bloodied by the biting teeth—and thatoccasional soft movement on the part of the Secretary’s thumb, straining—straining.Arvardan paused to rest. He did not want to. He had to. His outstretched

fingerjusttouchedthefabricoftheSecretary’stunicandhefelthecouldmovenomore.Hisagonizedlungscouldnotpumpthebreathhisdeadlimbsrequired.Hiseyeswereblurredwiththetearsofeffort,hismindwiththehazeofpain.Hegasped,“Justafewmoreminutes,Schwartz.Holdhim,holdhim—”Slowly,slowly,Schwartzshookhishead.“Ican’t—Ican’t—”Andindeed,toSchwartzalltheworldwasslippingawayintodull,unfocused

chaos.Thetendrilsofhismindwerebecomingstiffandnonresilient.TheSecretary’s thumbpressedonceagainuponthecontact. Itdidnotrelax.

Thepressuregrewbytinystages.Schwartzcouldfeelthebulgingofhisowneyeballs,thewrithingexpansionof

theveinsinhisforehead.Hecouldsensetheawfultriumphthatgatheredinthemindoftheother—ThenArvardan lunged.Hisstiffand rebelliousbody toppled forward,hands

outstretchedandclawing.The yielding, mind-held Secretary toppled with him. The blaster flew

sideways,clangingalongthehardfloor.TheSecretary’smindwrenchedfreealmostsimultaneously,andSchwartzfell

back,hisownskullatangledjungleofconfusion.BalkisstruggledwildlybeneaththeclingingdeadweightofArvardan’sbody.

Hejerkedakneeintotheother’sgroinwithaviciousstrengthwhilehisclenchedfist camedown sideways onArvardan’s cheekbone.He lifted and thrust—andArvardanrolledoffinhuddledagony.The Secretary staggered to his feet, panting and disheveled, and stopped

again.FacinghimwasShekt,halfreclining.Hisrighthand,shakinglysupportedby

the left, was holding the blaster, and although it quivered, the business endpointedattheSecretary.“You pack of fools,” shrilled the Secretary, passion-choked, “what do you

expecttogain?Ihaveonlytoraisemyvoice—”“Andyou,atleast,”respondedShektweakly,“willdie.”

“Youwillaccomplishnothingbykillingme,”saidtheSecretarybitterly,“andyou know it.Youwill not save theEmpire youwould betray us to—and youwouldnotsaveevenyourselves.Givemethatgunandyouwillgofree.”He extended a hand, butShekt laughedwistfully. “I amnotmad enough to

believethat.”“Perhapsnot,butyouarehalfparalyzed.”AndtheSecretarybrokesharplyto

theright,farfasterthanthephysicist’sfeeblewristcouldveertheblaster.But now Balkis’s mind, as he tensed for the final jump, was utterly and

entirelyontheblasterhewasavoiding.Schwartzextendedhismindonceagainin a final jab, and the Secretary tripped and slammed downward as if he hadbeenclubbed.Arvardanhadrisenpainfullytohisfeet.Hischeekwasredandswollenandhe

hobbledwhenhewalked.Hesaid,“Canyoumove,Schwartz?”“Alittle,”camethetiredresponse.Schwartzslidoutofhisseat.“Anyoneelsecomingthisway,maybe?”“NotthatIcandetect.”ArvardansmiledgrimlydownatPola.Hishandwasrestingonhersoftbrown

hairandshewaslookingupathimwithbrimmingeyes.Severaltimesinthelasttwohourshehadbeensure thatnever,neverwouldhefeelherhairorseehereyesagain.“Maybetherewillbealaterafterall,Pola?”And she could only shake her head and say, “There’s not enough time.We

onlyhavetillsixo’clockTuesday.”“Notenoughtime?Well,let’ssee.”ArvardanbentovertheproneAncientand

pulledhisheadback,nonetoogently.“Ishealive?”He felt futilely for apulsewithhis still-numb finger tipsand

then placed a palm beneath the green robe. He said, “His heart’s beating,anyway....You’veadangerouspowerthere,Schwartz.Whydidn’tyoudothisinthefirstplace?”“BecauseIwantedtoseehimheldstatic.”Schwartzclearlyshowedtheeffects

ofhisordeal.“IthoughtthatifIcouldholdhim,wecouldleadhimoutbefore;usehimasdecoy;hidebehindhisskirts.”Shektsaid,insuddenanimation,“Wemight.There’stheImperialgarrisonin

FortDibburnnothalfamileaway.Oncethere,we’resafeandcangetwordtoEnnius.”“Once there! Theremust be a hundred guards outside,with hundredsmore

between here and there—Andwhat canwe dowith a stiff green-robe? Carryhim?Shovehimalongonlittlewheels?”Arvardanlaughedhumorlessly.“Besides,”saidSchwartzgloomily,“Icouldn’tholdhimverylong.Yousaw

—Ifailed.”Shekt said earnestly, “Because you’re not used to it. Now listen, Schwartz,

I’vegotanotionastowhatitisyoudowithyourmind.It’sareceivingstationfortheelectromagneticfieldsofthebrain.Ithinkyoucantransmitalso.Doyouunderstand?”Schwartzseemedpainfullyuncertain.“Youmustunderstand,” insistedShekt. “You’llhave toconcentrateonwhat

youwanthimtodo—andfirstwe’regoingtogivehimhisblasterback.”“What!”Theoutragedexclamationwasneatlytriple.Shekt raised his voice. “He’s got to lead us out of here.We can’t get out

otherwise,canwe?Andhowcanitlooklesssuspiciousthantoallowhimtobeobviouslyarmed?”“But I couldn’t hold him. I tell you I couldn’t.” Schwartz was flexing his

arms,slappingthem,tryingtogetbackintothefeelofnormality.“Idon’tcarewhatyourtheoriesare,Dr.Shekt.Youdon’tknowwhatgoeson.It’saslippery,painfulthing,andit’snoteasy.”“Iknow,butit’sthechancewetake.Tryitnow,Schwartz.Havehimmovehis

armwhenhecomesto.”Shekt’svoicewaspleading.TheSecretarymoaned as he lay there, andSchwartz felt the revivingMind

Touch. Silently, almost fearfully, he let it gather strength—then spoke to it. Itwasaspeechthatincludednowords;itwasthesilentspeechyousendtoyourarmwhenyouwantittomove,aspeechsosilentyouarenotyourselfawareofit.And Schwartz’s arm did not move; it was the Secretary’s that did. The

Earthmanfromthepastlookedupwithawildsmile,buttheothershadeyesonlyforBalkis—Balkis, that recumbent figure,with a lifting head,with eyes fromwhichtheglazeofunconsciousnesswasvanishing,andanarmwhichpeculiarlyandincongruouslyjerkedoutwardataninety-degreeangle.Schwartzbenttohistask.The Secretary lifted himself up in angular fashion; nearly, but not quite,

overbalancinghimself.Andthen,inaqueerandinvoluntaryway,hedanced.Itlackedrhythm;itlackedbeauty;buttothethreewhowatchedthebody,and

toSchwartz,whowatchedbodyandmind,itwasathingofindescribableawe.ForinthosemomentstheSecretary’sbodywasunderthecontrolofamindnotmateriallyconnectedwithit.Slowly,cautiously,ShektapproachedtherobotlikeSecretaryand,notwithout

aqualm,extendedhishand.Intheopenpalmthereoflaytheblaster,buttfirst.“Lethimtakeit,Schwartz,”saidShekt.Balkis’s hand reached out and grasped theweapon clumsily. For amoment

therewas a sharp, devouring glitter in his eyes, and then it all faded. Slowly,slowly,theblasterwasputintoitsplaceinthebelt,andthehandfellaway.Schwartz’slaughwashigh-pitched.“Healmostgotaway,there.”Buthisface

waswhiteashespoke.“Well?Canyouholdhim?”“He’sfightinglikethedevil.Butit’snotasbadasbefore.”“That’s because you know what you’re doing,” said Shekt, with an

encouragementhedidnotentirelyfeel.“Transmit,now.Don’t try toholdhim;justpretendyou’redoingityourself.”Arvardanbrokein.“Canyoumakehimtalk?”There was a pause, then a low, rasping growl from the Secretary. Another

pause;anotherrasp.“That’sall,”pantedSchwartz.“Butwhywon’titwork?”askedPola.Shelookedworried.Shektshrugged.“Someprettydelicateandcomplicatedmusclesareinvolved.

It’snot likeyankingat the longlimbmuscles.Nevermind,Schwartz.Wemaygetbywithout.”Thememoryof thenext two hourswas something no two of those thattook part in the queer odyssey could duplicate. Dr. Shekt, for instance, hadacquiredaqueerrigidity inwhichallhisfearsweredrownedinonebreathlessand helpless sympathywith the inwardly struggling Schwartz. Throughout hehadeyesonlyforthatroundfaceasitslowlyfurrowedandtwistedwitheffort.Fortheothershehadhardlytimeformorethanamoment’sglance.Theguardsimmediatelyoutsidethedoorsalutedsharplyattheappearanceof

theSecretary,hisgreen robe redolentofofficialdomandpower.TheSecretaryreturnedthesaluteinafumbling,flatmanner.Theypassed,unmolested.ItwasonlywhentheyhadleftthegreatHallthatArvardanbecameconscious

of themadnessof itall.Thegreat,unimaginabledanger to theGalaxyand theflimsyreedofsafetythatbridged,perhaps,theabyss.Yeteventhen,eventhen,ArvardanfelthimselfdrowninginPola’seyes.Whetheritwasthelifethatwasbeing snatched from him, the future that was being destroyed about him, theeternalunavailabilityof the sweetnesshehad tasted—whatever itwas,noonehadeverseemedtohimtobesocompletelyanddevastatinglydesirable.Inaftertimeshewasthesumofhismemories.Onlythegirl—And upon Pola the sunny brightness of the morning burned down so that

Arvardan’sdownturnedfaceblurredbeforeher.Shesmiledupathimandwasconsciousofthatstrong,hardarmonwhichherownrestedsolightly.Thatwas

thememorythatlingeredafterward.Flat,firmmusclelightlycoveredbyglossy-texturedplasticcloth,smoothandcoolunderherwrist—Schwartzwasinasweatingagony.Thecurvingdrivethatledawayfromthe

sideentrancefromwhichtheyhademergedwaslargelyempty.Forthathewashugelythankful.Schwartz alone knew the full cost of failure. In the enemy Mind that he

controlledhecouldsensetheunbearablehumiliation,thesurpassinghatred,theutterly horrible resolves. He had to search thatMind for the information thatguidedhim—thepositionof theofficialgroundcar, theproper route to take—And, insearching,healsoexperienced thegallingbitternessof thedeterminedrevengethatwouldlashoutshouldhiscontrolwaverforbutthetenthpartofthesecond.The secret fastnesses of the Mind in which he was forced to rummage

remainedhispersonalpossessionforever.Inaftertimestherecamethepalegrayhours ofmany an innocent dawn duringwhich once again he had guided thestepsofamadmandownthedangerouswalksofanenemystronghold.Schwartzgaspedatthewordswhentheyreachedthegroundcar.Henolonger

dared relax sufficiently to utter connected sentences. He choked out quickphrases: “Can’t—drive car—can’t make—him—make drive—complicated—can’t—”Shektsoothedhimwithasoft,cluckingsound.Hedarednottouchhim,dared

notspeakinanordinaryway,darednotdistractSchwartz’smindforasecond.Hewhispered,“Justgethim into thebackseat,Schwartz. I’lldrive. Iknow

how.Fromnowonjustkeephimstill,andI’lltaketheblasteraway.”TheSecretary’sgroundcarwasaspecialmodel.Becauseitwasspecial,itwasdifferent.Itattractedattention.Itsgreenheadlightturnedtotherightandleft inrhythmicswingsas the lightdimmedandbrightenedinemeraldflashes.Menpausedtowatch.Groundcarsadvancingintheoppositedirectionmovedtothesideinarespectfulhurry.Had the car been less noticed, had it been less obtrusive, the occasional

passerbymighthavehad time tonote thepale, unmovingAncient in thebackseat—mighthavewondered—mighthavescenteddanger—Buttheynoticedonlythecar,sothattimepassed....Asoldierblockedthewayatthegleamingchromiumgatesthatrosesheerlyin

the expansive, overwhelmingway thatmarked all Imperial structures in sharpcontrast to the squatly massive and brooding architecture of Earth. His hugeforcegunshotouthorizontallyinabarringgesture,andthecarhalted.

Arvardanleanedout.“I’macitizenoftheEmpire,soldier.I’dliketoseeyourcommandingofficer.”“I’llhavetoseeyouridentification,sir.”“That’sbeentakenfromme.IamBelArvardanofBaronn,Sirius.Iamonthe

Procurator’sbusinessandI’minahurry.”The soldier lifted awrist tohismouthand spoke softly into the transmitter.

Therewasapausewhilehewaitedforananswer,andthenheloweredhisrifleandsteppedaside.Slowlythegateswungopen.

19

TheDeadlineThatApproached

ThehoursthatfollowedsawturmoilwithinandwithoutFortDibburn.Moreso,perhaps,inChicaitself.ItwasatnoonthattheHighMinisteratWashenninquiredviaCommuni-wave

after his Secretary, and a search for the latter failed. The HighMinister wasdispleased;theminorofficialsattheHallofCorrectionwereperturbed.Questioningfollowed,andtheguardsoutsidetheassemblyroomweredefinite

thattheSecretaryhadleftwiththeprisonersatten-thirtyinthemorning....No,hehad leftno instructions.Theycouldnotsaywherehewasgoing; itwas,ofcourse,nottheirplacetoask.Anothersetofguardswasequallyuninformedanduninformative.Ageneral

airofanxietymountedandswirled.At2p.m.thefirstreportarrivedthattheSecretary’sgroundcarhadbeenseen

thatmorning—noonehad seen if theSecretarywaswithin—some thought hehadbeendriving,buthadonlyassumedit,itturnedout—Bytwo-thirtyithadbeenascertainedthatthecarhadenteredFortDibburn.Atnotquitethree,itwasfinallydecidedtoputinacalltothecommanderof

thefort.Alieutenanthadanswered.Itwasimpossibleatthattime,theylearned,forinformationonthesubjectto

be given. However, His Imperial Majesty’s officers requested that order bemaintainedforthepresent.Itwasfurtherrequestedthatnewsoftheabsenceofamember of the Society of Ancients be not generally distributed until further

notice.ButthatwasenoughtoachievethedirectoppositeoftheImperialdesires.Menengagedintreasoncannottakechanceswhenoneoftheprimemembers

of a conspiracy is in the hands of the enemy forty-eight hours before triggertime.Itcanmeanonlydiscoveryorbetrayal,andthesearebutthereversesidesofasinglecoin.Eitheralternativewouldmeandeath.Sowordwentout—AndthepopulationofChicastirred—Theprofessionaldemagogueswereonthestreetcorners.Thesecretarsenals

werebrokenopenandthehandsthatreachedwithdrewwithweapons.Therewasa twisting drift toward the fort, and at 6 p.m. a newmessagewas sent to thecommandant,thistimebypersonalenvoy.Meanwhile,thisactivitywasmatchedinasmallerwaybyeventswithinthefort.IthadbegundramaticallywhentheyoungofficermeetingtheenteringgroundcarreachedoutahandfortheSecretary’sblaster.“I’lltakethat,”hesaidcurtly.Shektsaid,“Lethimtakeit,Schwartz.”TheSecretary’shandliftedtheblasterandstretchedout;theblasterleftit,was

carriedaway—andSchwartz,withaheavingsobofbreakingtension,letgo.Arvardanwasready.When theSecretary lashedout likean insanesteelcoil

releasedfromcompression,thearchaeologistpounceduponhim,fistspumpingdownhard.Theofficersnappedoutorders.Soldierswererunningup.Whenroughhands

laidholdofArvardan’sshirtcollaranddraggedhimup,theSecretarywaslimpupon the seat. Dark blood was flowing feebly from the corner of his mouth.Arvardan’sownalreadybruisedcheekwasopenandbleeding.Hestraightenedhishairshakily.Then,pointingarigidfinger,saidfirmly,“I

accuse thatman of conspiring to overthrow the Imperial Government. I musthaveanimmediateinterviewwiththecommandingofficer.”“We’llhavetoseeaboutthat,sir,”saidtheofficercivilly.“Ifyoudon’tmind,

youwillhavetofollowme—allofyou.”And there, for hours, it rested. Their quarters were private, and reasonably

clean.Forthefirsttimeintwelvehourstheyhadachancetoeat,whichtheydid,despite considerations, with dispatch and efficiency. They even had theopportunityofthatfurthernecessityofcivilization,abath.Yettheroomwasguarded,andasthehourspassed,Arvardanfinallylosthis

temperandcried,“Butwe’vesimplyexchangedprisons.”

Thedull,meaningless routineofanarmycampdriftedabout them, ignoringthem.SchwartzwassleepingandArvardan’seyeswenttohim.Shektshookhishead.“Wecan’t,”hesaid.“It’shumanlyimpossible.Themanisexhausted.Lethim

sleep.”“Butthereareonlythirty-ninehoursleft.”“Iknow—butwait.”A cool and faintly sardonic voice sounded. “Which of you claims to be a

citizenoftheEmpire?”Arvardansprangforward.“Iam.I—”Andhisvoice failed ashe recognized the speaker.The latter smiledrigidly.

Hisleftarmheheldabitstifflyasaremainingmementooftheirlastmeeting.Pola’s voice was faint behind him. “Bel, it’s the officer—the one of the

departmentstore.”“The one whose arm he broke,” came the sharp addition. “My name is

LieutenantClaudyandyes,youarethesameman.SoyouareamemberoftheSirianworlds, are you?And yet you consortwith these.Galaxy, the depths amancansinkto!Andyou’vestillgotthegirlwithyou.”Hewaitedandthensaidslowlyanddeliberately,“TheEarthie-squaw!”Arvardanbristled,thensubsided.Hecouldn’t—notyet—Heforcedhumblenessintohisvoice.“MayIseethecolonel,Lieutenant?”“Thecolonel,Iamafraid,isnotondutynow.”“Youmeanhe’snotinthecity?”“Ididn’tsaythat.Hecanbereached—ifthematterissufficientlyurgent.”“Itis....MayIseetheofficeroftheday?”“AtthemomentIamtheofficeroftheday.”“Thencallthecolonel.”And slowly the lieutenant shook his head. “I could scarcely do so without

beingconvincedofthegravityofthesituation.”Arvardanwasshakingwithimpatience.“BytheGalaxy,stopfencingwithme!

It’slifeanddeath.”“Really?” Lieutenant Claudy swung a little swagger stick with an air of

affecteddandyism.“Youmightcraveanaudiencewithme.”“Allright....Well,I’mwaiting.”“Isaid—youmightcraveone.”“MayIhaveanaudience,Lieutenant?”Buttherewasnosmileonthelieutenant’sface.“Isaid,craveone—beforethe

girl.Humbly.”Arvardanswallowedanddrewback.Pola’shandwasonhissleeve.“Please,

Bel.Youmustn’tgethimangry.”The archaeologist growled huskily, “Bel Arvardan of Sirius humbly craves

audiencewiththeofficeroftheday.”LieutenantClaudysaid,“Thatdepends.”HetookasteptowardArvardanandquicklyandviciouslybroughttheflatof

hispalmdownharduponthebandagethatdressedArvardan’sopencheek.Arvardangaspedandstifledashriek.Thelieutenantsaid,“Youresentedthatonce.Don’tyouthistime?”Arvardansaidnothing.Thelieutenantsaid,“Audiencegranted.”Four soldiers fell inbeforeandbehindArvardan.LieutenantClaudy led the

way.ShektandPolawerealonewiththesleepingSchwartz,andShektsaid,“Idon’thearhimanymore,doyou?”Polashookherhead.“Ihaven’teither,forquiteawhile.But,Father,doyou

supposehe’lldoanythingtoBel?”“Howcanhe?”saidtheoldmangently.“Youforgetthathe’snotreallyoneof

us.He’sacitizenoftheEmpireandcannotbeeasilymolested. . . .Youareinlovewithhim,Isuppose?”“Oh,terribly,Father.It’ssilly,Iknow.”“Ofcourse it is.”Shekt smiledbitterly. “He ishonest. Idonot sayhe isn’t.

Butwhatcanhedo?Canhe liveherewithuson thisworld?Canhe takeyouhome?IntroduceanEarthgirltohisfriends?Hisfamily?”Shewascrying.“Iknow.Butmaybetherewon’tbeanyafterwards.”AndShektwasonhisfeetagain,asthoughthelastphrasehadremindedhim.

Hesaidagain,“Idon’thearhim.”Itwas theSecretaryhedidnothear.Balkishadbeenplaced inanadjoining

room, where his caged-lion steps had been clearly and ominously audible.Exceptthatnowtheyweren’t.Itwasalittlepoint,butinthesinglemindandbodyoftheSecretarytherehad

somehowbecomecentered and symboled all the sinister forces of disease anddestruction thatwere being loosed on the giant network of living stars. ShektjarredSchwartzgently.“Wakeup,”hesaid.Schwartzstirred.“What is it?”Hefeltscarcelyrested.His tirednesswent in

andin,sodeepastocomeoutattheotherside,projectinginjaggedstreaks.“Where’sBalkis?”urgedShekt.“Oh—ohyes.”Schwartzlookedaboutwildly,thenrememberedthatitwasnot

withhiseyesthathelookedandsawmostclearly.Hesentoutthetendrilsofhismindandtheycircled,sensingtenselyfortheMindtheyknewsowell.He found it, and avoided touching it. His long immersion in it had not

increasedhisfondnessfortheclingingofitsdiseasedwretchedness.Schwartzmuttered,“He’sonanotherfloor.He’stalkingtosomeone.”“Towhom?”“NoonewhosemindI’veevenTouchedbefore.Wait—letmelisten.Maybe

theSecretarywill—Yes,hecallshimColonel.”ShektandPolalookedquicklyatoneanother.“Itcan’tbetreason,canit?”whisperedPola.“Imean,surelyanofficerofthe

Empirewouldn’tdealwithanEarthmanagainsttheEmperor,wouldhe?”“Idon’tknow,”saidShektmiserably.“Iamreadytobelieveanything.”

LieutenantClaudywassmiling.Hewasbehindadesk,withablasterathisfingertipsandthefoursoldiersbehindhim.Hespokewiththeauthoritythatsuchasituationwouldlendone.“Idon’tlikeEarthies,”hesaid.“Ineverlikedthem.They’rethescumofthe

Galaxy.They’rediseased,superstitious,andlazy.They’redegenerateandstupid.But,bytheStars,mostofthemknowtheirplace.“In away, I canunderstand them.That’s theway theywereborn, and they

can’thelpit.OfcourseIwouldn’tendurewhattheEmperorenduresfromthem—Imeantheirblastedcustomsandtraditions—ifIweretheEmperor.Butthat’sallright.Somedaywe’lllearn—”Arvardanexploded.“Nowlookhere.Ididn’tcometolisten—”“You’ll listen,becauseI’mnotfinished.Iwasabout tosaythatwhatIcan’t

understandistheworkingsofthemindofanEarthie-lover.Whenaman—arealman, supposedly—can get so low in filth as to crawl in among them and gonosingafter theirwomenfolk, Ihaveno respect forhim.He’sworse than theyare—”“ThentoSpacewithyouandyourpoorfilthyexcuseofamind!”fiercely.“Do

youknowthatthere’streasonagainsttheEmpireafoot?Doyouknowjusthowdangerousthesituationis?EveryminuteyoudelayendangerseveryoneofthequadrillionsintheGalaxy—”“Oh, I don’t know, Dr. Arvardan. It is Dr., isn’t it? I mustn’t forget your

honors.Yousee,I’vegotatheoryofmyown.You’reoneofthem.MaybeyouwereborninSirius,butyou’vegotablackEarthman’sheart,andyou’reusingyourGalacticcitizenshiptoadvancetheircause.You’vekidnapedthisofficialoftheirs, thisAncient. (Agood thing, by theway, in itself, and Iwouldn’tmind

rattling his throat for him.) But the Earthmen are looking for him already.They’vesentamessagetothefort.”“Theyhave?Already?Thenwhyarewetalkinghere?Imustseethecolonelif

Ihaveto—”“Youexpectariot,troubleofanysort?Perhapsyouevenplannedoneasthe

firststepinanarrangedrevolt,eh?”“Areyoumad?WhywouldIwanttodothat?”“Well,then,youwouldn’tmindifwereleasedtheAncient?”“Youcannot.”Arvardanrosetohisfeet,andforamomentitlookedasthough

hemighthurlhimselfacrossthedeskattheother.But theblasterwas inLieutenantClaudy’shand.“Oh,can’twe?Lookhere,

now.I’vegottenalittleofmyownback.I’veslappedyouandmadeyoucrawlbeforeyourEarthiepals. I’vemadeyou sitherewhile I toldyou toyour facewhatalowwormyouare.AndnowIwouldloveanexcusetoblastyourarmoffinexchangeforwhatyoudidtomine.Nowmakeanothermove.”Arvardanfroze.LieutenantClaudy laughed andput his blaster away. “It’s toobad I have to

saveyouforthecolonel.He’stoseeyouatfive-fifteen.”“Youknewthat—youknewthatallthetime.”Frustrationtorehisthroatinto

hoarsesandpaper.“Certainly.”“Ifthetimewehavelost,LieutenantClaudy,meansthattheissueislost,then

neither of us will have much time to live.” He spoke with an iciness thatdistorted his voice into something horrible. “But you will die first, because Ishallspendmylastminutessmashingyourfaceintosplinteredboneandmashedbrain.”“I’llbewaitingforyou,Earthie-lover.Anytime!”

ThecommandingofficerofFortDibburnhadgrownstiffintheserviceoftheEmpire.Intheprofoundpeaceofthelastgenerationstherewaslittleintheway of “glory” that any army officer could earn, and the colonel, in commonwithothers,earnednone.Butinthelong,slowrisefrommilitarycadethehadseenserviceineverypartoftheGalaxy—sothatevenagarrisonontheneuroticworldofEarthwastohimbutanadditionalchore.Hewantedonlythepeacefulroutine of normal occupation. He asked nothing beyond this, and for it waswilling to humble himself—even, when it was necessary, to apologize to anEarthgirl.He seemed tiredwhenArvardan entered.His shirt collarwas open and his

tunic,withitsblazingyellow“SpaceshipandSun”ofEmpire,hunglooselyoverthe back of his chair. He cracked the knuckles of his right hand with anabstractedairashestaredsolemnlyatArvardan.“Averyconfusingstory,allthis,”hesaid,“very.Irecallyouwell,youngman.

You are Bel Arvardan of Baronn, and the principal of a previousmoment ofconsiderableembarrassment.Can’tyoukeepoutoftrouble?”“Itisnotonlymyselfthatisintrouble,Colonel,butalltherestoftheGalaxy

aswell.”“Yes,Iknow,”somewhatimpatiently.“OratleastIknowthatthatiswhatyou

claim.Iamtoldthatyounolongerhavepapersofidentification.”“They were taken from me, but I am known at Everest. The Procurator

himselfcanidentifyme,andwill,Ihope,beforeeveningfalls.”“We’llseeaboutthat.”Thecolonelcrossedhisarmsandteeteredbackwardon

hischair.“Supposeyougivemeyoursideofthestory.”“I have beenmade aware of a dangerous conspiracy on the part of a small

groupofEarthmentooverthrowtheImperialGovernmentbyforce,which,ifnotmadeknownatonce to theproperauthorities,maywell succeed indestroyingboththeGovernmentandmuchoftheEmpireitself.”“Yougotoofar,youngman,inthisveryrashandfarfetchedstatement.That

the men of Earth could stage annoying riots, lay siege to this fort, doconsiderabledamage,Iamquitepreparedtoadmit—butIdonotforamomentconceive them capable of as much as driving the Imperial forces from thisplanet, let alone destroying the Imperial Government. Yet I will listen to thedetailsofthis—uh—plot.”“Unfortunately,theseriousnessofthematterissuchthatIfeelitvitalthatthe

detailsbetoldtotheProcuratorhimselfinperson.Irequest,therefore,tobeputintocommunicationwithhimnow,ifyoudon’tmind.”“Umm....Letusnotacttoohurriedly.Areyouawarethatthemanyouhave

broughtinisSecretarytotheHighMinisterofEarth,oneoftheirAncientsandaveryimportantmantothem?”“Perfectly!”“Andyetyousaythatheisaprimemoverinthisconspiracyyoumention.”“Heis.”“Yourevidence?”“Youwillunderstandme,Iamsure,whenIsaythatIcannotdiscussthatwith

anyonebuttheProcurator.”The colonel frowned and regarded his fingernails. “Do you doubt my

competencyinthecase?”“Notatall,sir.It issimplythatonlytheProcuratorhastheauthoritytotake

thedecisiveactionrequiredinthiscase.”“Whatdecisiveactiondoyoureferto?”“A certain building on Earth must be bombed and totally destroyed within

thirtyhours,orthelivesofmost,orall,oftheinhabitantsoftheEmpirewillbelost.”“Whatbuilding?”askedthecolonelwearily.Arvardansnappedback,“MayIbeconnectedwiththeProcurator,please?”Therewasapauseofdeadlock.Thecolonelsaidstiffly,“Yourealize that in

forcibly kidnaping anEarthman you have rendered yourself liable to trial andpunishmentbytheTerrestrialauthorities?Ordinarilythegovernmentwillprotectits citizens as amatter of principle and insist upon aGalactic trial. However,affairs onEarth are delicate and I have strict instructions to risk no avoidableclash.Therefore,unlessyouanswermyquestionsfully,Iwillbeforcedtoturnyouandyourcompanionsovertothelocalpolice.”“But thatwouldbe adeath sentence.Foryourself too! . . .Colonel, I ama

citizenoftheEmpire,andIdemandanaudiencewiththePro—”A buzzer on the colonel’s desk interrupted him. The colonel turned to it,

closingacontact.“Yes?”“Sir,” came the clear voice, “a bodyof natives have encircled the fort. It is

believedtheyarearmed.”“Hastherebeenanyviolence?”“No,sir.”Therewasnosignofemotiononthecolonel’sface.This,atleast,waswhathe

was trainedfor.“Artilleryandaircraftare tobemadeready—allmen tobattlestations.Withholdallfireexceptinself-defense.Understood?”“Yes,sir.AnEarthmanunderflagoftrucewishesaudience.”“Sendhimin.AlsosendtheHighMinister’sSecretaryhereagain.”Andnowthecolonelglaredcoldlyatthearchaeologist.“Itrustyouareaware

oftheappallingnatureofwhatyouhavecaused.”“Idemand tobepresentat the interview,”criedArvardan,nearly incoherent

with fury,“and I furtherdemand the reason foryourallowingme to rotunderguardhereforhourswhileyouclosetyourselfwithanativetraitor.ItellyouthatIamnotignorantthatyouinterviewedhimbeforespeakingwithme.”“Areyoumakinganyaccusations,sir?”demandedthecolonel,hisownvoice

ascendingthescale.“Ifso,makethemplainly.”“Imakenoaccusations.ButIwillremindyouthatyouwillbeaccountablefor

youractionshereafter,andthatyoumaywellbeknowninthefuture,ifyouhaveafuture,asthedestroyer,byyourstubbornness,ofyourpeople.”“Silence! I amnot accountable to you, at any rate.Wewill conduct affairs,

henceforward,asIchoose.Doyouunderstand?”

20

TheDeadlineThatWasReached

TheSecretarypassedthroughthedoorheldopenbyasoldier.Onhispurpling,swollenlipstherewasabrief,coldsmile.Hebowedtothecolonelandremainedcompletelyunaware,toallappearances,ofthepresenceofArvardan.“Sir,” said the colonel to the Earthman, “I have communicated to theHigh

Minister the details of your presence here and the manner in which it cameabout.Yourdetentionhereis,ofcourse,entirely—uh—unorthodox,anditismypurposetosetyoufreeassoonasIcan.However,Ihavehereagentlemanwho,as you probably know, has lodged against you a very serious accusation; onewhich,underthecircumstances,wemustinvestigate—”“I understand, Colonel,” said the Secretary calmly. “However, as I have

alreadyexplainedtoyou,thismanhasbeenonEarth,Ibelieve,onlyamatteroftwomonthsorso,so thathisknowledgeofour internalpolitics isnonexistent.Thisisaflimsybasis,indeed,foranyaccusation.”Arvardanretortedinanger,“Iamanarchaeologistbyprofession,andonewho

hasspecializedoflateonEarthanditscustoms.Myknowledgeofitspoliticsisfar from nonexistent.And in any case, I am not the only onewhomakes theaccusation.”TheSecretarydidnotlookatthearchaeologisteithernoworlater.Hespoke

exclusively to the colonel.He said, “Oneof our local scientists is involved inthis;onewho,approachingtheendofhisnormalsixtyyears, issufferingfromdelusions of persecution. Then, in addition, there is another man, one of

unknown antecedents and a history of idiocy. All three could not raise arespectableaccusationamongthem.”Arvardanjumpedtohisfeet.“Idemandtobeheard—”“Sitdown,”saidthecolonelcoldlyandunsympathetically.“Youhaverefused

todiscuss thematterwithme.Let therefusalstand.Bringin themanwith theflagoftruce.”Itwas anothermemberof theSocietyofAncients.Scarcely a flickerof the

eyelidbetrayedanyemotiononhispartatthesightoftheSecretary.Thecolonelrosefromhischairandsaid,“Doyouspeakforthemenoutside?”“Ido,sir.”“Iassume,then,thatthisriotousandillegalassemblyisbaseduponademand

forthereturnofyourfellowcountrymanhere?”“Yes,sir.Hemustbeimmediatelyfreed.”“Indeed!Nevertheless, the interestof lawandorderand the respectdueHis

ImperialMajesty’s representativeson thisworld require that thematter cannotpossiblybediscussedwhilemenaregatheredinarmedrebellionagainstus.Youmusthaveyourmendisperse.”TheSecretaryspokeuppleasantly.“Thecolonelisperfectlycorrect,Brother

Cori.Pleasecalmthesituation.Iamperfectlysafehere,andthereisnodanger—foranybody.Doyouunderstand?Foranybody.ItismywordasanAncient.”“Verywell,Brother.Iamthankfulyouaresafe.”Hewasusheredout.The colonel said curtly, “Wewill see that you leave here safely as soon as

mattersinthecityhavereturnedtonormal.Thankyouforyourco-operationinthismatterjustconcluded.”Arvardanwasagainonhisfeet.“Iforbidit.Youwillletloosethiswould-be

murderer of the human race while forbidding me an interview with theProcuratorwhen thatwould be simply in accordwithmy rights as aGalacticcitizen.”Then,inaparoxysmoffrustration,“WillyoushowmoreconsiderationtoanEarthmandogthanyouwilltome?”TheSecretary’svoicesoundedoverthatlastnear-incoherentrage.“Colonel,I

willgladlyremainuntilsuchtimeasmycaseisheardbytheProcurator,ifthatiswhatthismanwants.Anaccusationoftreasonisserious,andthesuspicionofit—howeverfarfetched—maybesufficienttoruinmyusefulnesstomypeople.Iwould reallyappreciate theopportunity toprove to theProcurator thatnone ismoreloyaltotheEmpirethanmyself.”Thecolonelsaidstiffly,“Iadmireyourfeelings,sir,andfreelyadmitthatwere

I in your placemy attitudewould be quite different.You are a credit to yourrace,sir.IwillattemptcontactwiththeProcurator.”

Arvardansaidnothingmoreuntilledbacktohiscell.Heavoidedtheglancesofthe others.For a long timehe satmotionless,withaknucklepinchedbetweengnawingteeth.UntilShektsaid,“Well?”Arvardanshookhishead.“Ijustaboutruinedeverything.”“Whatdidyoudo?”“Lost my temper; offended the colonel; got nowhere—I’m no diplomat,

Shekt.”He felt rivenwith the sudden urge for self-defense. “What could I do?” he

cried.“Balkishadalreadybeentothecolonel,sothatIcouldn’ttrusthim.Whatifhe’dbeenofferedhislife?Whatifhe’sbeeninontheplotallalong?Iknowit’sawildthought,butIcouldn’ttakethechance.Itwastoosuspicious.IwantedtoseeEnniushimself.”Thephysicistwasonhisfeet,witheredhandsclaspedbehindhisback.“Well,

then—isEnniuscoming?”“I suppose so. But it is only at Balkis’s own request, and that I don’t

understand.”“Balkis’sownrequest?ThenSchwartzmustberight.”“Yes?WhathasSchwartzbeensaying?”TheplumpEarthmanwassittingonhiscot.Heshruggedhisshoulderswhen

theeyesturnedtohimandspreadouthishandsinahelplessgesture.“IcaughttheSecretary’sMindTouchwhen they tookhimpastour room justnow.He’sdefinitelyhadalongtalkwiththisofficeryoutalkedto.”“Iknow.”“Butthere’snotreasoninthatofficer’smind.”“Well,”miserably,“thenIguessedwrong.I’lleatwormswhenEnniuscomes.

WhataboutBalkis?”“There’snoworryorfearinhismind;onlyhate.Andnowit’smostlyhatefor

us,forcapturinghim,fordragginghimhere.We’vewoundedhisvanityhorribly,andheintendstosquareitwithus.Isawlittledaydreampicturesinhismind.Ofhimself,singlehanded,preventingtheentireGalaxyfromdoinganythingtostophimevenwhilewe,withourknowledge,workagainsthim.He’sgivingus theodds,thetrumps,andthenhe’llsmashusanywayandtriumphoverus.”“Youmean that hewill risk his plans, his dreams ofEmpire, just to vent a

littlespiteatus?That’smad.”“Iknow,”saidSchwartzwithfinality.“Heismad.”“Andhethinkshe’llsucceed?”

“That’sright.”“Thenwemusthaveyou,Schwartz.We’llneedyourmind.Listentome—”But Shekt was shaking his head. “No, Arvardan, we couldn’t work that. I

wokeSchwartzwhenyouleftandwediscussedthematter.Hismentalpowers,whichhecandescribeonlydimly, areobviouslynotunderperfect control.Hecanstunaman,orparalyzehim,orevenkillhim.Betterthanthat,hecancontrolthe larger voluntarymuscles even against the subject’swill, but nomore thanthat. In the case of the Secretary, he couldn’t make the man talk, the smallmuclesaboutthevocalcordsbeingbeyondhim.Hecouldn’tco-ordinatemotionwell enough to have the Secretary drive a car; he even balanced him whilewalking onlywith difficulty.Obviously, then,we couldn’t control Ennius, forinstance,tothepointofhavinghimissueanorder,orwriteone.I’vethoughtofthat,yousee...”Shektshookhisheadashisvoicetrailedaway.Arvardanfeltthedesolationoffutilitydescenduponhim.Then,withasudden

pangofanxiety,“Where’sPola?”“She’ssleepinginthealcove.”Hewouldhavelongedtowakeher—longed—Oh,longedalotofthings.Arvardan looked at hiswatch. Itwas almostmidnight, and therewere only

thirtyhoursleft.Hesleptforawhileafter that, thenwokeforawhile,asitgrewlightagain.

Nooneapproached,andaman’sverysoulgrewhaggardandpale.Arvardanlookedathiswatch.Itwasalmostmidnight,andtherewereonlysix

hoursleft.He lookedabouthimnow inadazedandhopelessway.Theywereallhere

now—eventheProcurator,atlast.Polawasnexttohim,herwarmlittlefingerson his wrist and that look of fear and exhaustion on her face that more thananythingelseinfuriatedhimagainstalltheGalaxy.Maybetheyalldeservedtodie,thestupid,stupid—stupid—He scarcely saw Shekt and Schwartz. They sat on his left. And there was

Balkis,thedamnableBalkis,withhislipsstillswollen,onecheekgreen,sothatit must hurt like the devil to talk—and Arvardan’s own lips stretched into afurious,achingsmileatthethoughtandhisfistsclenchedandwrithed.Hisownbandagedcheekachedlessatthethought.FacingallofthemwasEnnius,frowning,uncertain,almostridiculous,dressed

ashewasinthoseheavy,shapeless,lead-impregnatedclothes.Andhewasstupid,too.Arvardanfeltathrillofhatredshootthroughhimat

thethoughtoftheseGalactictrimmerswhowantedonlypeaceandease.Whereweretheconquerorsofthreecenturiesback?Where?...Sixhoursleft—

Ennius had received the call from the Chica garrison some eighteen hoursbeforeandhehadstreakedhalfaroundtheplanetatthesummons.Themotivesthat ledhim to thatwereobscurebutnonetheless forceful.Essentially, he toldhimself, therewas nothing to thematter but a regrettable kidnaping of one ofthose green-robed curiosities of superstitious hagriddenEarth. That, and thesewildandundocumentedaccusations.Nothing,certainly, that thecolonelonthespotcouldnothavehandled.AndyettherewasShekt—Shektwasinthis—Andnotastheaccused,butas

anaccuser.Itwasconfusing.Hesatnowfacingthem,thinking,quiteconsciousthathisdecisioninthiscase

might hasten a rebellion, perhaps weaken his own position at court, ruin hischances at advancement—As forArvardan’s long speech just nowaboutvirusstrainsandunbridledepidemics,howseriouslycouldhetakeit?Afterall,ifhetook action on the basis of it, how credible would the matter sound to hissuperiors?AndyetArvardanwasanarchaeologistofnote.So he postponed thematter in hismind by saying to theSecretary, “Surely

youhavesomethingtosayinthismatter?”“Surprisinglylittle,”saidtheSecretarywitheasyconfidence.“Iwouldliketo

askwhatevidenceexistsforsupportingtheaccusation?”“YourExcellency,”saidArvardanwithsnappingpatience,“Ihavealreadytold

youthatthemanadmitteditineverydetailatthetimeofourimprisonmentdaybeforeyesterday.”“Perhaps,”saidtheSecretary,“youchoosetocreditthat,YourExcellency,but

itissimplyanadditionalunsupportedstatement.ActuallytheonlyfactstowhichoutsiderscanbearwitnesstoarethatIwastheoneviolentlytakenprisoner,notthey; that it wasmy life that was in peril, not theirs. Now I would like myaccuser toexplainhowhecouldfindall thisout in thenineweeks thathehasbeen on the planet, when you, the Procurator, in years of service here, havefoundnothingtomydisadvantage?”“ThereisreasoninwhattheBrothersays,”admittedEnniusheavily.“Howdo

youknow?”Arvardanrepliedstiffly,“Priortotheaccused’sconfessionIwasinformedof

theconspiracybyDr.Shekt.”“Isthatso,Dr.Shekt?”TheProcurator’sglanceshiftedtothephysicist.“Thatisso,YourExcellency.”“Andhowdidyoufindout?”Shekt said, “Dr. Arvardan was admirably thorough and accurate in his

description of the use to which the Synapsifier was put and in his remarks

concerning the dying statements of the bacteriologist, F. Smitko. This Smitkowasamemberoftheconspiracy.Hisremarkswererecordedandtherecordingisavailable.”“But,Dr.Shekt, thedyingstatementsofamanknown tobe indelirium—if

what Dr. Arvardan said is true—cannot be of very great weight. You havenothingelse?”Arvardaninterruptedbystrikinghisfistonthearmofhischairandroaring,

“Is thisa lawcourt?Hassomeonebeenguiltyofviolatinga trafficordinance?Wehavenotimetoweighevidenceonananalyticalbalanceormeasureitwithmicrometers.Itellyouwehavetillsixinthemorning,fiveandahalfhours,inotherwords,towipeoutthisenormousthreat....YouknewDr.Shektprevioustothistime,YourExcellency.Haveyouknownhimtobealiar?”TheSecretaryinterposedinstantly,“NooneaccusedDr.Shektofdeliberately

lying,YourExcellency.Itisonlythatthegooddoctorisagingandhas,oflate,beengreatlyconcernedoverhisapproachingsixtiethbirthday.Iamafraidthatacombinationofageandfearhaveinducedslightparanoiactendencies,commonenoughhereonEarth....Lookathim!Doesheseemtoyouquitenormal?”Hedidnot,ofcourse.Hewasdrawnandtense,shatteredbywhathadpassed

andwhatwastocome.YetShektforcedhisvoiceintonormaltones,evenintocalmness.Hesaid,“I

mightsaythatforthelasttwomonthsIhavebeenunderthecontinualwatchoftheAncients;thatmylettershavebeenopenedandmyanswerscensored.Butitisobviousthatallsuchcomplaintswouldbeattributedtotheparanoiaspokenof.However,IhavehereJosephSchwartz,themanwhovolunteeredasasubjectfortheSynapsifieronedaywhenyouwerevisitingmeattheInstitute.”“Iremember.”TherewasafeeblegratitudeinEnnius’smindthatthesubject

had,forthemoment,veered.“Isthattheman?”“Yes.”“Helooksnonetheworsefortheexperience.”“He is far the better. The exposure to the Synapsifier was uncommonly

successful,sincehehadaphotographicmemorytobeginwith,afactIdidnotknow at the time. At any rate, he now has a mind which is sensitive to thethoughtsofothers.”Ennius leaned far forward in his chair and cried in a shocked amazement,

“What?Areyoutellingmehereadsminds?”“That can be demonstrated, Your Excellency. But I think the Brother will

confirmthestatement.”The Secretary darted a quick look of hatred at Schwartz, boiling in its

intensity and lightninglike in itspassageacrosshis face.Hesaid,withbut the

most imperceptiblequiver inhisvoice,“It isquite true,YourExcellency.Thismantheyhaveherehascertainhypnoticfaculties,thoughwhetherthatisduetotheSynapsifierornotIdon’tknow.Imightaddthatthisman’ssubjectiontotheSynapsifierwasnotrecorded,amatterwhichyou’llagreeishighlysuspicious.”“Itwas not recorded,” said Shekt quietly, “in accordancewithmy standing

ordersfromtheHighMinister.”ButtheSecretarymerelyshruggedhisshouldersatthat.Enniussaidperemptorily,“Letusgetonwiththematterandavoidthispetty

bickering.. . .WhataboutthisSchwartz?Whathavehismind-readingpowers,orhypnotictalents,orwhatevertheyare,todowiththecase?”“Shekt intends to say,” put in the Secretary, “that Schwartz can read my

mind.”“Isthatit?Well,andwhatishethinking?”askedtheProcurator,speakingto

Schwartzforthefirsttime.“He’s thinking,” saidSchwartz, “thatwehavenowayofconvincingyouof

thetruthofoursideofwhatyoucallthecase.”“Quite true,”scoffed theSecretary,“though thatdeductionscarcelycalls for

muchmentalpower.”“Andalso,”Schwartzwenton,“thatyouareapoorfool,afraidtoact,desiring

onlypeace,hopingbyyourjusticeandimpartialitytowinoverthemenofEarth,andallthemoreafoolforsohoping.”TheSecretaryreddened.“Idenyallthat.Itisanobviousattempttoprejudice

you,YourExcellency.”ButEnniussaid,“Iamnotsoeasilyprejudiced.”Andthen,toSchwartz,“And

whatamIthinking?”Schwartzreplied,“ThatevenifIcouldseeclearlywithinaman’sskull,Ineed

notnecessarilytellthetruthaboutwhatIsee.”TheProcurator’seyebrows lifted insurprise.“Youarecorrect,quitecorrect.

Do you maintain the truth of the claims put forward by Drs. Arvardan andShekt?”“Everywordofit.”“So!Yetunlessasecondsuchasyoucanbefound,onewhoisnotinvolvedin

thematter, your evidence would not be valid in law even if we could obtaingeneralbeliefinyouasatelepath.”“Butitisnotaquestionofthelaw,”criedArvardan,“butofthesafetyofthe

Galaxy.”“YourExcellency”—theSecretaryroseinhisseat—“Ihavearequesttomake.

IwouldliketohavethisJosephSchwartzremovedfromtheroom.”“Whyso?”

“Thisman,inadditiontoreadingminds,hascertainpowersofmentalforce.IwascapturedbymeansofaparalysisinducedbythisSchwartz.Itismyfearthathemayattemptsomethingofthesortnowagainstme,orevenagainstyou,YourExcellency,thatforcesmetotherequest.”Arvardan rose to his feet, but the Secretary overshouted him to say, “No

hearingcanbefair ifamanispresentwhomightsubtlyinfluencethemindofthejudgebymeansofadmittedmentalgifts.”Enniusmadehisdecisionquickly.Anorderlyentered,andJosephSchwartz,

offering no resistance, nor showing the slightest sign of perturbation on hismoonlikeface,wasledaway.ToArvardanitwasthefinalblow.Asfor theSecretary,he rosenowandfor themomentstood there—asquat,

grimfigureingreen;stronginhisself-confidence.He began, in serious, formal style, “Your Excellency, all of Dr. Arvardan’s

beliefsandstatementsrestuponthetestimonyofDr.Shekt.Inturn,Dr.Shekt’sbeliefsrestuponthedyingdeliriumofoneman.Andallthis,YourExcellency,all this, somehow never reached the surface until after Joseph Schwartz wassubmittedtotheSynapsifier.“Who, then, is Joseph Schwartz? Until Joseph Schwartz appeared on the

scene,Dr.Shektwasanormal,untroubledman.Youyourself,YourExcellency,spentanafternoonwithhimthedaySchwartzwasbroughtinfortreatment.Washeabnormalthen?DidheinformyouoftreasonagainsttheEmpire?Ofcertainbabblings on the part of a dying biochemist?Did he seem even troubled?Orsuspicious?HesaysnowthathewasinstructedbytheHighMinister tofalsifytheresultsoftheSynapsifiertests,nottorecordthenamesofthosetreated.Didhetellyouthatthen?Oronlynow,afterthatdayonwhichSchwartzappeared?“Again,whoisJosephSchwartz?Hespokenoknownlanguageatthetimehe

wasbroughtin.Somuchwefoundoutforourselveslater,whenwefirstbegantosuspectthestabilityofDr.Shekt’sreason.Hewasbroughtinbyafarmerwhoknewnothingofhisidentity,or,indeed,anyfactsabouthimatall.Norhaveanysincebeendiscovered.“Yetthismanhasstrangementalpowers.Hecanstunatahundredyardsby

thought alone—kill at closer range. Imyself havebeenparalyzedbyhim;myarmsandlegsweremanipulatedbyhim;mymindmighthavebeenmanipulatedbyhimifhehadwished.“Ibelieve,certainly, thatSchwartzdidmanipulatethemindsoftheseothers.

TheysayIcapturedthem,thatIthreatenedthemwithdeath,thatIconfessedtotreason and to aspiring to Empire—Yet ask of them one question, YourExcellency. Have they not been thoroughly exposed to the influence of

Schwartz,thatis,ofamancapableofcontrollingtheirminds?“IsnotperhapsSchwartzatraitor?Ifnot,whoisSchwartz?”TheSecretaryseatedhimself,calm,almostgenial.Arvardanfeltasthoughhisbrainhadmountedacyclotronandwasspinning

outwardnowinfasterandfasterrevolutions.What answer could one make? That Schwartz was from the past? What

evidencewasthereforthat?Thatthemanspokeagenuinelyprimitivespeech?Butonlyhehimself—Arvardan—couldtestifytothat.Andhe,Arvardan,mightwellhaveamanipulatedmind.Afterall,howcouldhetellhismindhadnotbeenmanipulated?WhowasSchwartz?WhathadsoconvincedhimofthisgreatplanofGalacticconquest?He thought again. From where came his conviction of the truth of the

conspiracy?Hewasanarchaeologist,giventodoubting,butnow—Haditbeenoneman’sword?Onegirl’skiss?OrJosephSchwartz?Hecouldn’tthink!Hecouldn’tthink!“Well?”Enniussoundedimpatient.“Haveyouanythingtosay,Dr.Shekt?Or

you,Dr.Arvardan?”ButPola’svoicesuddenlypiercedthesilence.“Whydoyouaskthem?Can’t

youseethat it’salla lie?Don’tyouseethathe’styingusallupwithhisfalsetongue?Oh,we’re all going to die, and I don’t care anymore—butwe couldstop it,wecouldstop it—And insteadwe just sithereand—and—talk—”Sheburstintowildsobs.TheSecretarysaid,“Sowearereducedtothescreamsofahystericalgirl....

Your Excellency, I have this proposition. My accusers say that all this, theallegedvirus andwhatever else theyhave inmind, is scheduled for a definitetime—sixinthemorning,Ibelieve.Ioffertoremaininyourcustodyforaweek.Ifwhattheysayistrue,wordofanepidemicintheGalaxyoughttoreachEarthwithinafewdays.Ifsuchoccurs,ImperialforceswillstillcontrolEarth—”“Earth is a fine exchange, indeed, for a Galaxy of humans,” mumbled the

white-facedShekt.“I value my own life, and that of my people. We are hostages for our

innocence, and I ampreparedat this instant to inform theSocietyofAncientsthat I will remain here for a week of my own free will and prevent anydisturbancesthatmightotherwiseoccur.”Hefoldedhisarms.Enniuslookedup,hisfacetroubled.“Ifindnofaultinthisman—”Arvardancouldstand itnomore.Withaquietanddeadly ferocity,hearose

andstrodequicklytowardtheProcurator.Whathemeditatedwasneverknown.Afterwardhehimself couldnot remember.At any rate, itmadenodifference.

Enniushadaneuronicwhipandusedit.For the third timesince landingonEartheverythingaboutArvardan flamed

upintopain,spunabout,andvanished.InthehoursduringwhichArvardanwasunconsciousthesixo’clockdeadline

wasreached—

21

TheDeadlineThatPassed

Andpassed!Light—Blurring light and misty shadows—melting and twisting, and then coming

intofocus.Aface—Eyesuponhis—“Pola!”Thingsweresharpandclear toArvardaninasingle, leapingbound.

“Whattimeisit?”Hisfingerswereharduponherwirst,sothatshewincedinvoluntarily.“It’spastseven,”shewhispered.“Pastthedeadline.”Helookedaboutwildly,startingfromthecotonwhichhelay,disregardingthe

burninginhisjoints.Shekt,hisleanfigurehuddledinachair,raisedhisheadtonodinbriefmournfulness.“It’sallover,Arvardan.”“ThenEnnius—”“Ennius,” said Shekt, “would not take the chance. Isn’t that strange?” He

laughed a queer, cracked, rasping laugh. “The three of us singlehandedlydiscoveravastplotagainsthumanity,singlehandedlywecapturetheringleaderandbringhimtojustice.It’slikeavisicast,isn’tit,withthegreatall-conqueringheroeszoomingtovictoryinthenickoftime?That’swheretheyusuallyendit.Only in our case the visicastwent on andwe found that nobody believed us.

Thatdoesn’thappeninvisi-casts,doesit?Thingsendhappilythere,don’tthey?It’sfunny—”Thewordsturnedintorough,drysobs.Arvardanlookedaway,sick.Pola’seyesweredarkuniverses,moistandtear-

filled.Somehow,foraninstant,hewaslostinthem—theywereuniverses,star-filled. And toward those stars little gleaming metallic cases were streaking,devouring the light-years as they penetrated hyperspace in calculated, deadlypaths. Soon—perhaps already—theywould approach, pierce atmospheres, fallapartintounseendeadlyrainsofvirus—Well,itwasover.Itcouldnolongerbestopped.“WhereisSchwartz?”heaskedweakly.ButPolaonlyshookherhead.“Theyneverbroughthimback.”

Thedooropened,andArvardanwasnotsofargoneintheacceptanceofdeathastofailtolookupwithamomentarywashofhopeuponhisface.ButitwasEnnius,andArvardan’sfacehardenedandturnedaway.Ennius approached and lookedmomentarily at the father and daughter. But

evennowShektandPolawereprimarilyEarthcreaturesandcouldsaynothingto theProcurator, even though theyknew that short andviolent as their futurelivesweretobe,thatoftheProcuratorwouldbeevenshorterandmoreviolent.EnniustappedArvardanontheshoulder.“Dr.Arvardan?”“YourExcellency?”saidArvardaninarawandbitterimitationoftheother’s

intonation.“It is after six o’clock.” Ennius had not slept that night. With his official

absolution of Balkis had come no absolute assurance that the accusers werecompletely mad—or under mental control. He had watched the soullesschronometertickawaythelifeoftheGalaxy.“Yes,”saidArvardan.“Itisaftersixandthestarsstillshine.”“Butyoustillthinkyouwereright?”“YourExcellency,”saidArvardan,“inamatterofhoursthefirstvictimswill

die.Theywon’tbenoticed.Humanbeingsdieeveryday.Inaweekhundredsofthousandswillhavedied.Thepercentageofrecoverywillbeclosetozero.Noknownremedieswillbeavailable.Severalplanetswillsendoutemergencycallsforepidemicrelief.IntwoweeksscoresofplanetswillhavejoinedthecallandStates of Emergency will be declared in the nearer sectors. In a month theGalaxywillbeawrithingmassofdisease.Intwomonthsnottwentyplanetswillremainuntouched.InsixmonthstheGalaxywillbedead....Andwhatwillyoudowhenthosefirstreportscomein?

“Letmepredictthataswell.Youwillsendoutreportsthattheepidemicsmayhave started on Earth. This will save no lives. You will declare war on theAncientsofEarth.Thiswillsavenolives.YouwillwipetheEarthmanfromthefaceofhisplanet.Thiswillsavenolives....Orelseyouwillactasgo-betweenfor your friendBalkis and theGalacticCouncil, or the survivors thereof.YoumaythenhavethehonorofhandingthewretchedremnantsofthecrumbsoftheEmpiretoBalkisinreturnforantitoxin,whichmayormaynotreachsufficientworldsinsufficientquantitiesinsufficienttimetosaveasinglehumanbeing.”Enniussmiledwithoutconviction.“Don’tyouthinkyou’rebeingridiculously

overdramatic?”“Ohyes.I’madeadmanandyou’reacorpse.Butlet’sbedevilishlycooland

Imperialaboutit,don’ty’know?”“Ifyouresenttheuseoftheneuronicwhip—”“Notatall,”ironically.“I’musedtoit.Ihardlyfeelitanymore.”“ThenIamputtingittoyouaslogicallyasIcan.Thishasbeenanastymess.

It would be difficult to report sensibly, yet as difficult to suppress withoutreason.Now theother accusers involved areEarthmen;yourvoice is theonlyonewhichwouldcarryweight.Supposeyousignastatement to theeffect thattheaccusationwasmadeatatimewhenyouwerenotinyour—Well,we’llthinkof some phrase that will cover it without bringing in the notion of mentalcontrol.”“That would be simple. Say I was crazy, drunk, hypnotized, or drugged.

Anythinggoes.”“Willyoubereasonable?Nowlook, I tellyou thatyouhavebeen tampered

with.”Hewaswhisperingtensely.“You’reamanofSirius.WhyhaveyoufalleninlovewithanEarthgirl?”“What?”“Don’tshout.Isay—inyournormalstate,couldyoueverhavegonenative?

Could you have considered that sort of thing?” He nodded his head justperceptiblyinthedirectionofPola.ForaninstantArvardanstaredathiminsurprise.Then,quickly,hishandshot

out and seized the highest Imperial authority on Earth by the throat. Ennius’shandswrenchedwildlyandfutilelyattheother’sgrip.Arvardansaid,“Thatsortofthing,eh?DoyoumeanMissShekt?Ifyoudo,I

wanttoheartheproperrespect,eh?Ah,goaway.You’redeadanyway.”Enniussaidgaspingly,“Dr.Arvardan,youwillconsideryourselfunderar—”Thedooropenedagain,andthecolonelwasuponthem.“YourExcellency,theEarthrabblehasreturned.”“What?Hasn’tthisBalkisspokentohisofficials?Hewasgoingtoarrangefor

aweek’sstay.”“Hehas spoken andhe’s still here.But so is themob.Weare ready to fire

upon them, and it ismy advice asmilitary commander thatwe proceed to dothat.Haveyouanysuggestions,YourExcellency?”“Hold your fire until I seeBalkis.Have him sent in here.”He turned. “Dr.

Arvardan,Iwilldealwithyoulater.”Balkis was brought in, smiling. He bowed formally to Ennius, whoyieldedhimthebarestnodinreturn.“See here,” said the Procurator brusquely, “I am informed your men are

packingtheapproachestoFortDibburn.Thiswasnotpartofouragreement....Now,wedonotwishtocausebloodshed,butourpatienceisnotinexhaustible.Canyoudispersethempeaceably?”“IfIchoose,YourExcellency.”“Ifyouchoose?Youhadbetterchoose.Andatonce.”“Notatall,YourExcellency!”AndnowtheSecretarysmiledandflungoutan

arm.Hisvoicewasawildtaunt,toolongwithheld,nowgladlyreleased.“Fool!Youwaited too long and can die for that!Or live a slave, if you prefer—butrememberthatitwillnotbeaneasylife.”Thewildnessandfervorof thestatementproducednoshatteringeffectupon

Ennius.Evenhere,atwhatwasundoubtedly theprofoundestblowofEnnius’scareer, the stolidity of the Imperial career diplomat did not desert him. Itwasonlythatthegraynessanddeep-eyedwearinessabouthimdeepened.“ThenIlostsomuchinmycaution?Thestoryofthevirus—wastrue?”There

wasalmostanabstract, indifferentwonder inhisvoice.“ButEarth,yourself—youareallmyhostages.”“Notatall,”cametheinstant,victoriouscry.“Itisyouandyoursthataremy

hostages.ThevirusthatnowisspreadingthroughtheUniversehasnotleftEarthimmune. Enough already saturates the atmosphere of every garrison on theplanet, includingEverest itself.WeofEarthare immune,buthowdoyoufeel,Procurator?Weak?Isyour throatdry?Yourheadfeverish?Itwillnotbe long,youknow.Anditisonlyfromusthatyoucanobtaintheantidote.”ForalongmomentEnniussaidnothing,hisfacethinandsuddenlyincredibly

haughty.ThenheturnedtoArvardanandincool,culturedtonessaid,“Dr.Arvardan,I

find I must beg your pardon for having doubted your word. Dr. Shekt, MissShekt—myapologies.”Arvardan bared his teeth. “Thank you for your apologies. They will be of

greathelptoeverybody.”“Yoursarcasmisdeserved,”saidtheProcurator.“Ifyouwillexcuseme,Iwill

returntoEveresttodiewithmyfamily.Anyquestionofcompromisewiththis—manis,ofcourse,outofthequestion.MysoldiersoftheImperialProcuracyofEarthwill,Iamsure,acquit themselvesproperlybeforetheirdeaths,andnotafewEarthmenwill undoubtedly have time to light theway for us through thepassagesofdeath....Good-by.”“Holdon.Holdon.Don’tgo.” Slowly, slowly,Ennius looked up to thenewvoice.Slowly, slowly, Joseph Schwartz, frowning a bit, swaying a bit with

weariness,steppedacrossthethreshold.TheSecretarytensedandsprangbackward.Withasudden,warysuspicion,he

facedthemanfromthepast.“No,” he gritted, “you can’t get the secret of the antidote out ofme. Only

certainmen have it, and only certain others are trained to use it properly.Allthesearesafelyoutofyourreachforthetimeittakesthetoxintodoitswork.”“They are out of reach now,” admitted Schwartz, “but not for the time it

wouldtakethetoxintodoitswork.Yousee,thereisnotoxin,andnovirustostampout.”Thestatementdidnotquitepenetrate.Arvardanfeltasuddenchokingthought

enterhismind.Hadhebeentamperedwith?Hadall thisbeenagigantichoax,onethathadtakenintheSecretaryaswellashimself?Ifso,why?ButEnniusspoke.“Quickly,man.Yourmeaning.”“It’snotcomplicated,”saidSchwartz.“WhenwewereherelastnightIknewI

coulddonothingbysimply sittingand listening.So Iworkedcarefullyon theSecretary’smindforalongtime....Idarednotbedetected.Andthen,finally,heaskedthatIbeorderedoutoftheroom.ThiswaswhatIwanted,ofcourse,andtherestwaseasy.“Istunnedmyguardandleftfor theairstrip.Thefortwasonatwenty-four-

houralert.Theaircraftwerefueled,armed,andreadyforflight.Thepilotswerewaiting.Ipickedoneout—andweflewtoSenloo.”The Secretary might have wished to say something. His jaws writhed

soundlessly.ItwasShektwhospoke.“Butyoucouldforcenoonetoflyaplane,Schwartz.

Itwasallyoucoulddotomakeamanwalk.”“Yes,when it’s against hiswill.But fromDr.Arvardan’smind Iknewhow

Sirians hated Earthmen—so I looked for a pilot who was born in the Sirius

SectorandfoundLieutenantClaudy.”“LieutenantClaudy?”criedArvardan.“Yes—Oh,youknowhim.Yes,Isee.It’squiteclearinyourmind.”“I’llbet....Goahead,Schwartz.”“ThisofficerhatedEarthmenwithahate that’sdifficult tounderstand,even

for me, and I was inside his mind. Hewanted to bomb them. Hewanted todestroythem.Itwasonlydisciplinethattiedhimfastandkepthimfromtakingouthisplanethenandthere.“That kind of amind is different. Just a little suggestion, a little push, and

discipline was not enough to hold him. I don’t even think he realized that Iclimbedintotheplanewithhim.”“HowdidyoufindSenloo?”whisperedShekt.“Inmytime,”saidSchwartz,“therewasacitycalledSt.Louis.Itwasatthe

junctionoftwogreatrivers....WefoundSenloo.Itwasnight,buttherewasadarkpatchinaseaofradioactivity—andDr.ShekthadsaidtheTemplewasanisolated oasis of normal soil.We dropped a flare—at least it was mymentalsuggestion—and therewas a five-pointed building below us. It jibedwith thepicture Ihad received in theSecretary’smind. . . .Now there’sonlyahole, ahundred feet deep, where that building was. That happened at three in themorning.Noviruswassentoutandtheuniverseisfree.”It was an animal-like howl that emerged from the Secretary’s lips—the

unearthly screech of a demon. He seemed to gather for a leap, and then—collapsed.Athinfrothofsalivatrickledslowlydownhislowerlip.“Inevertouchedhim,”saidSchwartzsoftly.Then,staringthoughtfullyatthe

fallen figure, “Iwasbackbefore six, but I knew Iwouldhave towait for thedeadlinetopass.Balkiswouldhave tocrow.Iknewthatfromhismind,anditwasfromhisownmouth,only,thatIcouldconvicthim....Nowtherehelies.”

22

TheBestIsYettoBe

ThirtydayshadpassedsinceJosephSchwartzhad liftedoffanairportrunwayon anight dedicated toGalactic destruction,with alarmbells shrillingmadlybehindhimandorderstoreturnburningtheethertowardhim.Hehadnotreturned;not,atleast,untilhehaddestroyedtheTempleofSenloo.Theheroismwasfinallymadeofficialnow.Inhispockethehadtheribbonof

the Order of the Spaceship and Sun, First Class. Only two others in all theGalaxyhadevergottenitnonposthumously.Thatwassomethingforaretiredtailor.Noone,ofcourse,outsidethemostofficialofofficialdom,knewexactlywhat

hehaddone,butthatdidn’tmatter.Someday,inthehistorybooks,itwouldallbecomepartofabrightandindeliblerecord.Hewaswalking through thequietnightnow towardDr.Shekt’shouse.The

citywaspeaceful, aspeaceful as the starryglitter above. In isolatedplacesonEarthbandsofZealotsstillmadetrouble,buttheirleadersweredeadorcaptiveandthemoderateEarthmen,themselves,couldtakecareoftherest.Thefirsthugeconvoysofnormalsoilwerealreadyontheirway.Enniushad

againmade his original proposal that Earth’s population bemoved to anotherplanet,butthatwasout.Charitywasnotwanted.LetEarthmenhaveachancetoremaketheirownplanet.Letthembuildonceagainthehomeoftheirfathers,thenativeworldofman.Letthemlaborwiththeirhands,removingthediseasedsoilandreplacingitwithhealthy,seeingthegreengrowwhereallhadbeendeadand

makingthedesertblossominbeautyonceagain.Itwas an enormous job; it could take a century—butwhat of that?Let the

Galaxylendmachinery;lettheGalaxyshipfood;lettheGalaxysupplysoil.Oftheirincalculableresources,itwouldbeatrifle—anditwouldberepaid.And someday,onceagain, theEarthmanwouldbe apeople amongpeoples,

inhabitingaplanetamongplanets,lookingallhumanityintheeyeindignityandequality.Schwartz’sheartpoundedatthewonderofitallashewalkedupthestepsto

thefrontdoor.NextweekheleftwithArvardanfor thegreatcentralworldsoftheGalaxy.WhoelseofhisgenerationhadeverleftEarth?AndmomentarilyhethoughtoftheoldEarth,hisEarth.Solongdead.Solong

dead.Andyetbutthreeandahalfmonthshadpassed...Hepaused,hishandonthepointofsignalingatthedoor,asthewordsfrom

withinsoundedinhismind.Howclearlyheheardthoughtsnow,liketinybells.ItwasArvardan,ofcourse,withmoreinhismindthanwordsalonecouldever

handle. “Pola, I’ve waited and thought, and thought and waited. I won’t anymore.You’recomingwithme.”AndPola,withamindaseagerashis,yetwithwordsofthepurestreluctance,

said,“Icouldn’t,Bel.It’squiteimpossible.Mybackwoodsmannersandbearing...I’dfeelsillyinthosebigworldsoutthere.And,besides,I’monlyanEar—”“Don’tsayit.You’remywife,that’sall.Ifanyoneaskswhatandwhoyouare,

you’reanativeofEarthandacitizenoftheEmpire.Iftheywantfurtherdetails,you’remywife.”“Well, and after you make this address at Trantor to your archaeological

society,whatnext?”“Whatnext?Well, firstwe takeayearoffandseeeverymajorworld in the

Galaxy.Wewon’t skipone,even ifwehave togetonandoff itbymail ship.You’ll get yourself an eyeful of the Galaxy and the best honeymoon thatgovernmentmoneycanbuy.”“Andthen...”“Andthenit’sbacktoEarth,andwe’llvolunteerforthelaborbattalionsand

spend the next forty years of our lives lugging dirt to replace the radioactiveareas.”“Nowwhyareyougoingtodothat?”“Because”—there was the suspicion of a deep breath at this point in

Arvardan’sMindTouch—“Iloveyouandit’swhatyouwant,andbecauseI’mapatrioticEarthmanandhavethehonorarynaturalizationpaperstoproveit.”“Allright...”

Andatthispointtheconversationstopped.But,ofcourse, theMindTouchesdidnot,andSchwartz, in fullsatisfaction,

andalittleembarrassment,backedaway.Hecouldwait.Timeenoughtodisturbthemwhenthingshadsettleddownfurther.Hewaitedinthestreet,withthecoldstarsburningdown—awholeGalaxyofthem,seenandunseen.And for himself, and the new Earth, and all those millions of planets far

beyond,herepeatedsoftlyoncemorethatancientpoemthathealonenow,ofsomanyquadrillions,knew:

“Growoldalongwithme!Thebestisyettobe,Thelastoflife,forwhichthefirstwasmade...”