New Writings in SF 29 - [Anthology]

by Edited By Keith Bulmer

  Oblivious of the tension between Lynda Sagar and Massner, Dr. Robinson went on to describe how the approaching demonstration revolved around Anglesomne’s incredible capacity for projecting intense emotion over a limited area. The Coma Colosseum had been designed with this fact in mind, its seating capacity limited to exactly the area of Anglesomne’s psychic broadcasts. Like everyone else previously excluded from the secrets of the Coma Colosseum, Massner’s knowledge of Anglesomne’s powers was vague.

  Less than a hundred years ago, Empaths had emerged within the human race, individuals with extraordinarily acute sensitivity. Not telepathy as it had once been envisioned. The Empaths could not read thoughts. But they could sense to an exquisite degree personal character attitudes. They could penetrate everyday facades and sense the intrinsic instincts and reactions boiling below the surface. There had been drawbacks for those born with empathic powers. Taste and smell, even a certain degree of tactile sensibility, had been lost to the Empaths. It was as though reduced organic perceptivity had been a prerequisite in achieving empathic awareness.

  There was an even greater blight on their lives. The Comatose Condition. It struck Empaths at random without warning. Death followed within hours. No cure had been found for the condition which affected every Empath indiscriminately.

  Anglesomne had contracted the Comatose Condition late in his life. An intensely powerful Empath, Anglesomne had emerged as a natural leader amongst both Empaths and non-Empaths alike. Because of his unique internal power, Anglesomne survived in the Coma Condition, his mind and body beyond conscious control, while his empathic capacity continued to function without caution or restraint.

  Free of the shackles of consciousness, the empathic area of his mind gained in strength, broadcasting into the minds of others the images and sensations of people standing near to him regardless of their personal wishes. Anglesomne had become the only true telepath. And because no control existed over his reflections of exterior mental processes, he had become a potentially dangerous element in almost every facet of political, military and media life.

  There could be no secrets for anyone exposed to Anglesomne. Deceptions were impossible. It became evident that Anglesomne either had to be destroyed, or removed to a location beyond his ability to influence private or public affairs.

  Pressure was exerted and the alternatives clearly explained. They were: colonization of one of the abandoned scientific research bases on the moon; or Tethys, the experimental undersea city off the coast of South America. It had to be one of these, or Anglesomne’s death. The Empaths, those who wished to go, including a large number of Anglesomne’s non-empathic followers, had taken over Tethys and built the Coma Colosseum. Installed inside this mysterious structure, Anglesomne had rapidly faded into obscurity and legend.

  This knowledge had of course always been available to anyone interested enough to research the facts. Anglesomne’s potential for aiding research into psychiatric disorders had always been recognized by Massner’s colleagues, but the governing body in Tethys refused to expose Anglesomne to the dangers inherent in any such investigation. Ostier and Kircher in particular had been annoyed by this lack of co-operation. Massner himself, though interested in the possibilities, had always believed that improvements in the treatment of disorders of the mind lay in other directions.

  Occasional television programmes concerning Anglesomne and the Coma Colosseum had been networked across the European continent. It had been during one of these transmissions that Massner had first seen Lynda Sagar. From that moment he had lost the ability to alter the course of events in his life.

  * * * *

  Dr. Robinson was now explaining how the twelve donors in the rooms surrounding the central dodecahedron were each to be connected, through a series of artificial blood vessels and pumps introduced to a main artery close to the heart, to Anglesomne’s body. When all the link-ups were completed and the system was operating perfectly, the first of the donors would be deprived of the machines which up to that point had kept him alive. Anglesomne would react empathically to the situation, broadcasting to everyone assembled in the Coma Colosseum the sensation of death, the experience of a mind at the point of release. The other donors would die almost immediately, in twos and threes, boosting Anglesomne’s reception, increasing the sensations to such a pitch that everyone in the Coma Colosseum, the entire population of Tethys, would participate mentally in acknowledging the indisputable evidence of life after death.

  Dr. Robinson stopped talking suddenly, and Massner realized how loud his voice had been. He had the look of a fanatic and his eyes were brighter than ever.

  Lynda Sagar seemed unaffected by Dr. Robinson’s vision.

  ‘But what if you fail to achieve the results you desire?’ Massner said. ‘Have you considered what would happen if Sagar is wrong? Think of the impact of failure on the inhabitants of Tethys at this crucial moment!’

  Dr. Robinson stared suspiciously at Massner for a second. He seemed unsure how to react to Massner’s uncertainty. Then he took him by the shoulder, laughing.

  ‘Failure?’ he cried. ‘How can we fail? You believe in God, don’t you?’

  Massner turned to Lynda Sagar, a sense of helpless anger sweeping over him; but her thoughts were masked.

  ‘Dr. Robinson,’ he said, ‘why not test the programme first, before exposing the population to further uncertainty? What harm can it do?’

  Robinson’s face seemed to seize up in disbelief at Massner’s question. ‘Test the programme?’ His hands trembled. ‘Do you know what you’re asking us to do? You’re suggesting that we test God, Massner; God!’

  Fortunately it was at that point that Dr. Robinson had been called away, after receiving urgent instructions from his personal communicator. With one hand on the door, he turned to face Massner. ‘I’ll leave you in the hands of Mrs. Sagar. If you have any further questions, I’m sure she can answer them for you. I’ll see you both later, at dinner.’

  The door closed behind him, and even though the walls of the dodecahedron cell were transparent, Massner was alone with Lynda Sagar for the first time.

  She was laughing quietly to herself even before Dr. Robinson slid the door shut behind him. Her laughter was low and melodious, but there was a hint of suppressed frenzy in it. She turned towards Massner and for the first time looked directly into his eyes. The sensation was indescribable.

  ‘You found that amusing?’ he asked, remembering her laughter.

  ‘Amusing?’ Lynda Sagar sighed. ‘Alarming might be more accurate.’ She removed her face mask, disregarding Dr. Robinson’s example. There was a slight flush on her cheeks. ‘You know my husband, don’t you?’

  Massner nodded. ‘I studied under him in Stockholm several years ago.’

  ‘You know him well then?’

  Massner wanted to talk about anything but Sagar. Lynda was the most intense woman he had ever met. ‘I don’t think anybody at the university would have made that claim. He wasn’t a man to encourage friendship.’

  Lynda Sagar laughed again; this time it was tinged with bitterness. ‘He’s my husband, and I don’t know him.’

  ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.’ Massner searched for the right words, not wanting to offend her, yet desperately trying to continue the conversation. ‘He was always difficult to communicate with, except when he was lecturing. Perhaps...’

  Lynda Sagar’s eyes blazed. ‘You don’t understand, do you? All this ...’ She indicated the central dodecahedron and the cells beyond. ‘He doesn’t care about all this. He doesn’t care what happens to Tethys. But they can’t see that. Nobody understands. He’s planning something, Massner, I’m sure of it. But they’re too involved with this mad scheme he’s concocted to realize it. Massner, I’m worried. I’m frightened!’

  A technician approached from the central area. Lynda Sagar grabbed Massner’s hand and an electric shock went through him. ‘Tonight. I’ll call you tonight. I must talk to you.’ She left before the
technician entered.

  Bewildered, Massner watched her leave.

  * * * *

  Four

  Massner lay on the couch in his tiny room, drifting between sleep and waking, his thoughts splintered and confused. During his absence, a nurse had visited his wife and attended to her needs, even tidied her hair up. Massner looked at his wife and thought of Lynda Sagar. How could he think rationally about all he had seen and heard this day?

  His attempts to consider the various issues on an objective level continually dissolved into complex and unanswerable aspects of conscience and morality. Massner was certain that Sagar did not believe in the possibility of life after death, in the existence of man’s eternal soul. Lynda Sagar, the one person who should have been closest to him, also had doubts. But how could he convince people like Perrers and Dr. Robinson of this without facts? Life in Tethys was geared towards religious observance. It permeated every aspect of society in the undersea city. It was society.

  To accuse Sagar of heresy without producing solid evidence to substantiate his claims would only bring suspicion and possibly similar accusations down on his own head. Sagar was planning something, but what it was or how he intended to carry it out was at the moment completely beyond him. Massner realized that he would just have to wait and watch.

  Still sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned endlessly. To add to Massner’s confusion, a man’s face persistently penetrated the twisting morass of his dreams, to stare at him with a hauntingly familiar face. The face belonged to Sagar. For no obvious reason he seemed to be laughing.

  * * * *

  He was roused from a light sleep by an insistent knocking on the door. It was Lynda Sagar. She entered the room and stood for a moment, looking at his wife.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  Still bemused by sleep, Massner wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

  She turned towards him. ‘I didn’t want to use the telephone,’ she said, suddenly. ‘I hope you don’t mind my coming here to see you?’ Her long black hair was combed back off her face. It accentuated her eyes even more. She sat down on the edge of the couch, her fingers intertwining nervously. Massner realized that she desperately wanted to talk, but didn’t know where to begin. He offered her coffee but she shook her head mutely.

  ‘What is it about Dr. Sagar that worries you?’ he asked, quietly, pouring a cup out for himself.

  She stared at him. ‘It’s just a feeling I’ve got. I’m sure there’s something wrong, that’s all.’

  Massner sipped the hot liquid cautiously. ‘Have you anything specific in mind?’

  ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘There’s a woman I know, a close friend, she contracted multiple sclerosis. She’s dying.’ Lynda Sagar’s dark eyes revealed her agony. ‘She desperately wanted to be included in the programme. She offered herself as one of the twelve donors. When my husband found out, I thought he was going to go mad with rage. I’d only been trying to help. He’d found only six people he considered suitable at the time.’

  ‘Suitable?’ Massner asked. ‘In what way?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Later, did he ever give a reason for the outburst?’

  ‘No. He refused to discuss it.’

  Her answers only strengthened Massner’s suspicions. But still there was nothing definite. ‘How much control does your husband have over the programme and over the choice of donors?’

  ‘He is responsible for everything,’ Lynda Sagar answered simply. ‘He has total control.’

  These nebulous doubts were not enough, Massner realized. He needed evidence, something that would persuade people like Dr. Robinson and Perrers to postpone the programme for a few days. ‘What if we exposed Sagar to Anglesomne’s mind?’ Massner said. ‘Anglesomne would be able to determine the truth wouldn’t he?’ he asked, excitedly.

  Lynda Sagar shook her head. ‘Impossible. Anglesomne’s mind is damped down with drugs for most of the time - to save him from unnecessary suffering.’

  ‘Suffering? What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s always pain involved in empathic transference. Denied conscious control, Anglesomne’s psyche would suffer unending agony. The drugs reduce his awareness. When his empathic ability is needed, the drugs are withheld. But without the proper authority...’ She gestured helplessly with pale hands.

  ‘Well, couldn’t an ordinary Empath determine the truth about Sagar?’

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘His mind is too ... strong. Impenetrable. There are such individuals.’

  Massner noticed that Lynda Sagar had a strange expression on her face.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked as Massner picked up the telephone.

  ‘Talk to Dr. Robinson. There’s a couple of questions I’d like to ask him.’ Massner sensed her uncertainty. ‘It’s all right,’ he insisted, ‘I’m supposed to be helping the programme anyway.’

  The automatic switchboard eventually connected him. Dr. Robinson was just going to bed.

  ‘I’ve found something that I think can be exploited to the benefit of the programme,’ Massner lied. ‘But I need answers to several questions.’

  Robinson sounded tired. ‘Look, Massner, I’ve been on my feet for over eighteen hours. Can’t this wait until morning?’

  ‘There isn’t enough time. I need the information now.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Robinson said, after a moment’s silence.

  ‘Complete details of the programme. Case histories of all the donors. A run-down on Dr. Sagar.’

  Robinson was ominously silent again. Then: ‘I can’t give you all that now, over the telephone. Look, are you sure this will help us?’

  ‘Positive,’ Massner lied.

  ‘Right. You can use my office. I’ll tell you how to get there. If there’s something you need to know that’s not in my records, there’s a computer terminal in there. You should get everything you need from the memory bank.’

  Dr. Robinson instructed Massner on how to reach his office, promised that he would inform security, then rang off.

  Massner wasted no time. He dragged Lynda Sagar to her feet and practically ran out of the room.

  * * * *

  Tiredly, Massner pushed the files away from him. He sighed and stared blankly around the tiny office. He was worried. Something was scratching away at his nerve ends with an uneasy persistence.

  Only one common factor repeated itself in each of the eleven case histories. Each donor had a record of a heart condition at some stage in life. All of them had received treatment which had proved satisfactory. There appeared to be no cause for concern. As for Sagar, his record was exemplary. Officially at least.

  ‘I can’t find anything wrong here, Lynda.’ Massner slumped back in Dr. Robinson’s swivel chair. ‘I’ve been through them all at least twice, there’s nothing.’

  The office was small but tastefully decorated, and with a large hand-carved wooden desk and oak panelled walls. Lynda was sitting on a reproduction chaise longue, her feet drawn up beneath her. There was a distracted look on her face.

  Massner stared at the reports scattered across the desk top. ‘Where is he now?’ he wondered out loud. ‘What’s he doing? I’ve never seen him all the time I’ve been in Tethys.’

  ‘He spends most of his time in either of the two hospitals, caring for his personal patients.’ Lynda said. ‘There or in the Coma Colosseum Chapel.’

  ‘Where?’ Massner asked, not sure that he had heard right.

  ‘Yes, I did say Chapel.’

  ‘What does he do there?’

  Lynda shook her head. Her hair fell across her shoulders in a wave. ‘I don’t know. It puzzles me. I know he’s not religious, not in that sense.’

  ‘Then why ...?’ Massner looked at her. He felt defeated. Not because he really cared about the programme, but because he desperately wanted to help Lynda Sagar.

  He was finding it increasingly difficult
to think straight. She had released emotions within him he had successfully subdued for years. The sensation was intolerable.

  ‘Lynda ...’ he began. Suddenly he realized there was no need to explain. She was looking directly at him, her eyes wider and deeper than he could ever have imagined. That strange and subtle emotional flux washing between them became a force too intense, too insistent to be denied.

  Just once, he tried to hold back. ‘Lynda, is there enough time?’ he asked, realizing how little time remained before the programme started.

  He already knew the answer.

  ‘If not for us, then for nothing,’ she whispered.

  * * * *

  Massner awoke with a premonition of fear. Lynda was still lying next to him. Her breathing came very regularly. He could feel its slow warmth on his cheek. He sat up, wondering what time it was.