So it came up with blind, hideous swiftness; and Commager discovered that rushing bulk could not be simply turned away from them as he had turned the rocks. It was driven by its own sick and terrible purpose. Neither could he reach the minds that guided it. This time, they were alertly on guard.
With seconds to spare then, he turned the boat.
In the fog to their left, the sea opened in a thundering series of crashes and settled again. Water smashed into the boat as it danced and drove raggedly away, and before it had gone very far it was lifted once more on a thrust of water from below.
The thing from the sea had followed, and it was terribly close! So close that the flickering dull glow of a mind as primitive as the monstrous body itself rose up in Commager’s awareness.
He caught at it.
What he drove into the glow was like an insistence on its destruction. It seemed to blaze up in brief, white fury and then went black . . .
The Sweet Susan drove on through a curiously disturbed sea, surrounded by dissipating wisps of what might or might not have been an ordinary patch of fog. Probably, no one on any of the distant fishing boats even noticed that minor phenomenen.
A half-mile away, the water roiled once more; and that was all. The Pacific had gone back to its normal behavior.
XII
IT WAS sunset on the Bay, and Paylar was talking, at least most of the time. Sometimes Commager listened and sometimes he didn’t.
It was a fairy tale situation, he thought, somewhat amused at himself. Because he could feel the mood of it very strongly, a childlike one, a mood of enchantment around him and of terror along the fringes of the enchantment. Terror that was in part past, and in part still to come.
Far below the slope where they sat, sun-fires gleamed in the dark, moving waters, like fire shining out of the heart of a black jewel. Down there, as was not inappropriate near the end of a fairy tale, two of the bad ones lay dead and buried, unless one of them had been taken away by the water.
Much farther out, miles out, the body of a defeated dragon bumped slowly along the sea-bottom, back to the deeps, nibbled at, tugged at, pulled and turned by armies of hungry fish.
A blonde and beautiful princess was halfway to the far land of flowers called Florida by now, flying through the night skies, and released at last from an evil enchantment. She might still wonder at how oddly she’d acted the past few years, but she’d begun to look forward to new and exciting activities—and she was rapidly forgetting Alan Commager in the process.
It had been the only way to arrange it, because this was a trap of magic Jean had no business being in, and she’d been in it only because of him. He’d got himself the other one, the dark, beautiful, wicked witch, to keep company instead.
So Paylar talked of magical things, and he listened, pleasantly fascinated and willing for an hour to believe anything she told him. Earth turned under them, vast and ponderous, away from the Sun and into the night, a big, convincing stage background to what she was talking about.
ALL EARTH life, she said, was a single entity, growing and developing from this great globe, and its conscious thinking processes went on mainly in that part of it that was human. Which was fine, she explained, while all humans were still Old Mind, as they had been at first, because they were aware of Earth and cared for it, knowing they were a part of it, and that it all belonged together. But then New Mind humans came along, as a natural development. They could think a little better than the others, but they were no longer aware of being a part of Earth life and didn’t care about anything much but themselves, since they considered themselves to be individuals.
It didn’t matter too much. They were still influenced by the purpose and patterns of Earth life, and had practically no conscious defenses against what seemed to them to be obscure motivations of their own. And there were always enough Old Mind people around who knew what was going on to direct the rather directionless New Minders patiently back to the old patterns, so that in the long run things tended to keep moving along much as they always had done.
It began to matter when New Minders developed a conscious interest in what was now called psi. That was an Earth life ability which had its purpose in keeping the patterns intact; and only the New Mind, which had intelligence without responsibility, was capable of using psi individualistically and destructively.
In most periods of time, the New Mind was kept from investigating psi seriously by its superstitious dread of phenomena it couldn’t rationalize. But when it did get interested—
In the Old Mind, adherence to the Earth life pattern was so complete that dangerous psi abilities simply didn’t develop.
“So you see,” she said, “we need New Mind psi to control New Mind psi.”
COMMAGER said he’d come to understand that finally. And also that they were able to keep control of the people they used by the fact that psi abilities tended to be as deadly to their possessor as to anyone else, when employed without careful restraint. “At best, I imagine there’s a high turnover rate in the New Mind section of an organization like the Guides.”
“There is,” she agreed coolly. “Particularly since we select the ones that are potentially the most dangerous as recruits. The ones most hungry for power. Ruth, for example, is not likely to live out another year.”
Privately and thoughtfully, Commager confirmed that opinion. “Doesn’t that unusual mortality attract attention?” he inquired. It seemed a little tactless, but he added, “What about Hawkes and Barthold, for example? Aren’t they going to be officially missed?”
“Hawkes was known to be nearly psychopathic,” Paylar replied. “Whatever happened to him will surprise no one officially. And no one but ourselves knew anything about Lex.”
She had showed, Commager thought, an appalling indifference to the fate of her late companions. He studied her for a moment with interested distaste. “You know,” he remarked then, “I don’t feel any very strong urges for power myself. How does that fit in with your story?”
She shrugged. “A natural is always unpredictable. You have a blend of Old Mind and New Mind qualities, Alan, that might have made you extremely useful to us. But since you didn’t choose to be useful, we can’t take a chance on you.”
He let that pass. “Where do people like you and Barthold come from?” he inquired curiously. “How did you get involved in this kind of thing?”
SHE HERSELF came, she said, from a mountain village in northern Italy. Its name was as unimportant as her own. As for the role she was playing, in part she’d been instructed in it, and in part she’d known instinctively what she had to do. She smiled at him. “But none of that is going to concern you very much longer, Alan!”
She sounded unpleasantly certain about it. Although he thought he could foretell quite precisely what was going to happen tonight, Commager felt a little shaken. He suggested, “What would happen if people like myself were just left to do as they pleased?”
“Earth would go insane,” she said calmly. The extravagance of the statement jolted him again, but he could see the analogue. The Old Mind was full of fears, too—the fear of chaos.
“That offer you made me to become one of the Guides—was that a trap, or was it meant sincerely?”
Her face abruptly became cautious and alert. “It was meant sincerely.”
“How could you have trusted me?”
She said evasively, “There was a great deal you could have learned from us. You have discovered some of the things you can do by yourself, but you realize the dangers of uninstructed experimentation.”
He looked at her, remembering the limitations of Old Mind and that, because of them, there couldn’t be any real compromise. He didn’t doubt they would have showed him what was safe to do and of use to them; but the only circumstances under which they really could trust him would be to have him so befuddled that he’d be almost completely dependent on their assistance and advice. So they would also have showed him things that were very much less than
safe—for him.
He thought that Herbert Hawkes had followed that road almost to the end before he died, and that Ruth MacDonald was rather far advanced on it by now. Those two had been merely greedy and power-hungry people, utilizing talents which were more expensive than they’d been allowed to guess. Lex and Paylar had been the only leaders among the ones he’d met of that group.
He didn’t bother to repeat his question; but Paylar said suddenly, “Why did you bring me out here this evening, Alan?”
“I THOUGHT I might find what was left of the Guides at Hawkes’ place,” Commager said. “I was a little annoyed, frankly, both because of something that happened today, and because of something that was done a while ago to somebody else. I was going to tell you to stop playing games around me and people I happen to like—or else!”
He grinned at her. “Of course, I realized you weren’t going to risk a showdown right in the middle of town! It could get a little too spectacular. But since you were conveniently waiting alone there for me, I brought you out here.”
“Supposing,” Paylar said, “that we don’t choose to accept a showdown here either?”
“Lady,” he told her, “if it looks as if nothing is going to be settled, there are experiments I can start on with you that should have you yelling very quickly for help to any Guides remaining in the area. As I figure it, you see, a New Mind natural might be able to control an Old Mind expert very much as you intended to control me.”
She went a little white. “That could be true. But you can’t hope to survive a showdown, Alan!”
He spread his hands. “Why not? Logically, at least, I don’t think there are very many of you left.” He was almost certain he knew of one who hadn’t openly played a part as yet, but he didn’t intend to mention that name at the moment. “It wouldn’t take more than a handful of developed New Mind psis to control an area like this. And you wouldn’t want more than a handful around or you couldn’t be sure of controlling them!”
She nodded. “That’s also true, of course. But you’re still at a hopeless disadvantage, Alan. We—the Old Mind knows exactly how this situation can be resolved in our favor, if we’re prepared to lose a few more of our controlled psis . . .”
“The psis mightn’t feel quite so calm about it,” Commager pointed out. He hesitated. “Though I suppose you might have them believing by now that I’m out to eat them!”
“They’ve been led to consider you a deadly threat to their existence,” Paylar agreed with a touch of complacency. “They’ll take any risk that’s required, particular since they won’t understand the full extent of the risk. And that isn’t all, Alan. You’re not the first New Mind natural we’ve dealt with, you know. If anything goes seriously wrong in this area, Old Mind all over the Earth will be aware of it.”
HE FROWNED doubtfully at her, because he’d been wondering about that. And then he let the thought come deliberately into the foreground of his consciousness that he would prefer to reach an agreement, if it could be done. The Guides’ ability to grasp what was going on in his mind seemed to be a very hazy one; but in a moment, though Paylar’s expression didn’t change, he was certain she had picked up that intentional piece of information.
She said, with a slow smile, “How much do you remember of your parents, Alan?”
He stared at her in surprise. “Not very much. They both died when I was young. Why?”
She persisted, “Do you recall your mother at all?”
“No,” he admitted warily. “She divorced my father about two years after I was born. I stayed with him and never saw her again. I understand she died about three years later.”
“And your father?” she asked him insistently.
Commager gestured patiently toward the Bay. “My father drowned out there on a fishing trip when I was eleven. I remember him well enough, actually. Afterward I was raised by a guardian. Do you mind telling me what these questions are about?”
“Your father,” she said, “was of the Old Mind, Alan. So he must have known what you might develop into almost since your birth.”
ODDLY ENOUGH, he found, he was immediately willing to accept that as valid information. “Why didn’t he do something about his shocking little offspring?” he inquired.
“Apparently,” Paylar said calmly, “he did. If he hadn’t died, your special abilities might have been blocked away so completely that they would never have come to your attention—or brought you to our attention. As it was, what he did to check you was simply not sufficient.”
Commager considered the possibility, and again it seemed that that was what had occurred. It was too long ago to arouse any particular emotion in him. He said absently, watching her, “What’s all this supposed to prove, Paylar?”
“That we’re not trying to control you out of malice. It seems as necessary to us now as it did to your father then.”
He shrugged. “That makes no difference, you know. If more control is all you have to offer, I’m afraid we’ll go right on disagreeing.”
Paylar nodded. Then she just sat there, apparently unconcerned, apparently satisfied with what had been said and with things as they were, until Commager added suddenly, “I get the notion that you’ve just informed your little pals it’s time for direct action. Correct?”
“Two of them are on their way here.” She gave him her slight smile. “When they arrive, we’ll see what occurs, Alan! Would you like me to show you some pictures meanwhile?”
“Pictures?” He stared at her and laughed. He was baffled and, for the moment, furious. He could, as she must realize and as he had once threatened to do, break her slim neck in one hand. The indications were that he could break her mind as easily if he exerted himself in that direction. But she seemed completely unconcerned about either possibility.
HER SMILE widened. “I caught that,” she remarked. “You were really broadcasting, Alan! You won’t try to hurt me—you’re really incapable of it—unless you become very frightened. And you’re almost sure you can handle all three of us anyway, so you’re not yet afraid . . .”
And in that, for once, she might have given him more information than she knew. Because he had sensed there had been three of them involved, two actively and one as an observer, in the last two attempts against him. Paylar, he guessed, had been the observer—supervisor might be the better term.
If those three were the only Guides that remained active locally, she was quite right: he was convinced he could handle them! And if, as seemed likely, they were going to leave him no choice about it, he would.
What Old Mind elsewhere might think or do would be another matter then. He wasn’t at all sure that he couldn’t handle that problem also. Another piece of information Paylar had given him in the last minute or so was that sudden flares of emotion made him “legible” to those who had her own level of ability.
He would avoid such emotional outbursts in future.
“What kind of pictures did you intend to show me?” he inquired.
“You think I’m trying to trap you,” she accused him.
“Aren’t you?” Commager asked, surprised.
“Of course! But only by showing you what Earth-life really is like—while there is still time.”
“Well,” he said agreeably, “go ahead . . .”
SO HE SAT there in the dark between sunset and moonrise and watched pictures, though that wasn’t quite what they were. At first, it seemed as if time were flowing around him; the Moon would be overhead briefly and gone again, while the planes of the ground nearby shifted and changed. That, he thought, was to get him used to the process, condition him a little. The trickeries would come next!
But when they came, they weren’t really trickery. He was simply, Commager decided, being shown life as Old Mind knew it and as, in a way, it was; though he himself had never thought to take quite so dramatic and vivid a view of it. Laughing and crying, thundering and singing, Earth-life drifted past in terrors and delights, flows of brightness and piercing s
ound and of blackest silence and night.
At last, through all that tumult of light and fragrance and emotion, he began to grow aware of what to Old Mind, at least, was primarily there: the driving, powerful, unconscious but tremendous purpose. Earth dying and living, near-eternal . . .
In his mind, he found himself agreeing that it was a true picture of life and a good one.
He was a traitor to that life, Old Mind whispered to him. Earth needed him and had created him to help hold back the night and the cold forever! But the tiny, individual selfishness of the New Mind broke away from the flow of life and denied it.
So, in the end, all would die together—
The flow slowed. Into it crept the cold and the dark—a chill awareness of the approaching frozen and meaningless immobility of chaos.
It wasn’t till then that Commager reached out carefully and altered the pictures a trifle. It had been a good show, he thought, though overly dramatic; and Paylar had timed the paralyzing emergence of chaos very nicely. The two for whom he’d been waiting had just reached the turnoff from the highway.
XIII
THE HEADLIGHTS of the car glided swiftly down the Bay Road, as he brought his awareness back hurriedly to his immediate surroundings to check on the physical condition of his companion. She sat upright a few feet away from him, her legs crossed under her, her hands dropped laxly into her lap, while the black animal eyes stared in blind horror at the frozen picture or chaos.
She would keep, he decided. And he wasn’t really worried about the other two . . . Ira Bohart and Ruth MacDonald.
He reached out for them, and as they flashed savagely back at him, he drew away, out of time, into the space that was open to New Mind only, where they would have to follow if they wanted to touch him.
Complete Short Fiction (Jerry eBooks) Page 56