Crompton Divided

by Robert Sheckley

  ‘I want him to join me,’ Crompton said calmly.

  ‘What do you mean, join you? It sounds like some kind of a circus act.’

  ‘Don’t you know the situation?’ Crompton asked. ‘The virus schizophrenia, the Durier bodies, Reintegration?’

  ‘I saw a special on it once on the TV. Do you mean to say that you and Ed –’

  ‘We are some of the results of a case of virus schizophrenia,’ Crompton said. ‘We are two parts of the same personality. There’s another of us, also, Dan Stack, who lives on the planet Ygga. We are three separate parts of a single personality. None of us can be complete without the others.’

  ‘Go on,’ Gilliam said.

  ‘Do you understand about the Reintegration process? The other two parts of my personality – Loomis and Stack – have the opportunity now of giving up their bodies (which are only Duriers anyhow) and joining me in my own, human body. After that – with a little luck – comes the actual process of fusion and transformation in which we become a new and competent personality.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ Gilliam said. ‘I’m still thinking about the body thing. Everybody joins you, huh? That’s dozy. And I suppose you stay in charge?’

  ‘Well,’ Crompton said, ‘I am the most competent personality, and it is my body.’

  ‘And what happens to their bodies?’

  ‘They just collapse and die. But it’s not actual death, because the personality, the intelligence, the I that knows itself as Edgar Loomis, will survive.’

  ‘Well, I see it all now,’ Gilliam said. ‘And the answer is no.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘He is not going to get away with it.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘This little number that you and Ed have cooked up together.’ She laughed scornfully. ‘Does he actually think he’s going to walk out on me by letting his body die while his so-called personality goes traipsing off to distant planets? Not a chance, brother, not a chance. I’m sure there’s some law that says he can’t legally become someone else while he’s still legally my husband. Otherwise what is the marriage vow worth? Any court in the galaxy would back me up on that one.’

  Before Crompton could answer – if he had any answer – she had walked out and slammed the door behind her.

  19

  Several days later, Crompton and Loomis met for lunch at Casa Orthodontia, the only Mexican restaurant on the planet Aaia. Crompton arrived late, and was shown to his table by the proprietor, stately plump Al Dente.

  ‘About time you got here,’ Loomis said. He was well dressed, as usual, today with a terrycloth jumpsuit styled by Tony of Pimlico. His shoes, with tinkly chimes built into the heels, were by Harbinger & Omen. Despite his elegance, however, Loomis did not look well: a faint tremor of the lower lip betrayed his inner perturbation.

  After studying the menu, Crompton ordered the conservative Combination Plate Two. Loomis went for super-exotic Thirty-seven. They exchanged banalities for a while. Then Loomis could stand it no longer.

  ‘Look here, Crompton,’ he said, ‘you’ve really got to stop it.’

  Crompton raised an eyebrow in interrogation.

  ‘You know very well what I’m talking about. I refer to that gigantic blond oaf you sicked on me.’

  ‘You refer to Billy Berserker?’

  ‘He’s changing his name to Sammy Slick,’ Loomis said. ‘He’s living with my wife now, it may interest you to know. That’s the only good development in this whole mess. The only way I get any time to myself is when he’s with her, which isn’t very often, damnably enough. He sticks to me closer than my shadow – he’s even around in the dark!’

  ‘He’s a serious-minded young man,’ Crompton said.

  ‘But he’ll never make a con guy. He ought to take up haunting people, that’s what he’s really good at.’

  ‘Why don’t you suggest it to him?’

  ‘He’d just write it down in his notebook and keep on following me. Crompton, you have to get him off my back! I can’t function with him around! Seducing rich women just doesn’t work when he’s around! Alistair, whatever your grievance with me, it is unfair to take away a man’s livelihood.’

  Crompton bit down firmly on an enchilada made entirely of carrots and walnuts, then wiped his lips with a precise gesture. ‘Loomis,’ he said, ‘your plea is not pertinent to the context. This is not a disagreement between two individuals. It is a quarrel between parts of the same personality. The circumstances are unusual, I grant you, but that is the heart of the situation. There are no rules to cover internalized conflicts.’

  ‘But I don’t see it that way,’ Loomis said. ‘You’re leaving a few things out. True, we are parts of the same personality; but I’m also a separate and distinct being, and the law recognizes my status as such. I have the inalienable right to not Reintegrate with you if I don’t want to.’

  ‘I’ve thought about this a great deal,’ Crompton said. ‘I know that you have the legal right to do as you please; but not the moral right. Or, to put it differently, I have the moral obligation to bring us back together again.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ Loomis said.

  ‘In my opinion,’ Crompton said, ‘I’m merely following an evolutionary law: an organism must fight to renew itself, or accept degeneration and death. The law of life – ‘if you’ll excuse the expression – tells me to repair my damage. There’s no real question of like or dislike. If it were a matter of my own personal taste, I’d be inclined to forget this whole thing and try to live content with what I happen to be. But life has given me the opportunity to heal myself, and I must pursue it whether or not you – or I, for that matter – like it.’

  They ate for several minutes in silence. Crompton found the manchas mantecas not to his liking, but enjoyed the refried beans topped with pumpkin-seed sauce. Big Al Dente, with his starchy grin and quick businessman’s pop-eyes, came by to enquire if everything was satisfactory, then left to serve Billy Berserker, who had just sat down at an adjoining table with his notebook and pencil stub.

  Loomis concentrated for a moment on spearing a bit of seviche. When he looked up his eyes were cold.

  ‘Now listen to me carefully, Alistair,’ he said slowly, with careful emphasis. ‘I am essentially an easygoing, easy-living, easy-forgiving sort of fellow. It is alien for me to carry a grudge, and downright unlikely for me to contemplate violence. But I am willing to make an exception in your case. You are pressing me too damned far.’

  ‘Go play it on your Self-Expression Machine,’ Crompton said, with that quick thrust of cruelty to which he was growing accustomed.

  The roots of Loomis’s nostrils became pinched and white. He rose with dignity. ‘Very well, Alistair. You think that you are the only one with willpower and determination? We shall see. Just remember that I warned you.’

  He walked out of the restaurant followed by Berserker, who winked at Crompton.

  20

  That evening, as Crompton was about to leave for a walk, his door was suddenly flung open. Loomis stepped in, looked quickly around, shut the door behind him and locked it.

  ‘All right, we’ll do it your way,’ he said. ‘I’ve decided to Reintegrate with you.’

  Crompton’s initial feeling of joy was stifled in a wave of suspicion.

  ‘What made you change your mind?’

  ‘Does it really matter? Can’t we just get on with it?’

  ‘First I want to know why,’ Crompton said.

  ‘It’s a little difficult to explain. Can’t we save that for later, after we –’

  There was a heavy pounding at the door. Berserker’s deep voice shouted, ‘I know you’re in there, Loomis! Come out, or I’m coming in after you.’

  Loomis’s hands were trembling uncontrollably. ‘I have a dread of physical violence. And anyhow, he’s a lot bigger than I am. Alistair! Please!’

  ‘Tell me,’ Crompton said implacably.

  Beads of sweat appeared on Loomis�
�s forehead. ‘Gilliam came to see me today, and one thing led to another. You know how it is.’

  ‘I know how it is with you,’ Crompton said. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘That crazy Berserker found us in bed together and went crazy with jealousy? Can, you believe it? Someone trying to kill me because I slept with my own wife? I could laugh if it weren’t so terribly terrible what that madman is going to do to me.’

  The door began to splinter under repeated blows. Crompton turned to his personality component.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘let’s Reintegrate.’

  The two men stared into each other’s eyes, parts calling for the whole, potential increasing to bridge the gap, new gestalten trembling on the verge of being. Then Loomis gasped and his Durier body collapsed, folding in on itself like a rag doll. At the same moment, Crompton’s knees buckled as though a weight had fallen on his shoulders.

  The hinges gave way. Billy Berserker marched into the room.

  ‘Where is he?’ Berserker shouted.

  Crompton pointed to Loomis’s body on the floor.

  ‘Oh,’ said Berserker, momentarily nonplussed. ‘Well, he was a lousy bastard and he really deserved it. But who am I going to learn from now? Professor, what should I do?’

  ‘Go back to hurting people,’ Crompton said. ‘It’s what you’re really good at.’

  Three

  21

  The journey from Aaia to Ygga was a long one, whether measured in light-years or in units of subjective experience. The new navigational equipment was not yet installed on this run, so the ship – the Western Galactic Clipper – had to travel in the slow, old-fashioned way, via adventitious helices in the pseudospace structure.

  Crompton did not object to the leisurely pace. It allowed him a badly needed rest from the discontinuities of Aaia, and afforded a chance to get to know the person with whom he was sharing his head.

  Reintegration had not taken place, of course, since it is possible only when all the constituent elements of a personality have been brought together, and even then is not inevitable.

  Loomis was extremely silent and withdrawn on the first day. Crompton was barely aware that he was there. But after a good night’s sleep, Loomis seemed considerably recovered. He accepted Crompton’s invitation to a game of shuffleboard, each man taking turns at controlling the body. They were very polite to each other, and deferential to each other’s wishes, like strangers forced by circumstance to share a room for the night.

  The honeymoon ended on the afternoon of the third day. Crompton had lunched lightly, taken a nap, then a cold shower, and was working on a crossword puzzle.

  After a while, Loomis said, ‘I’m bored.’

  Crompton said, ‘Why don’t you help me with this puzzle? It’s really enormous fun once you get into it.’

  ‘No, no,’ Loomis said, and his emotion of distaste was so strong that it made Crompton wince.

  ‘What would you like to do, then?’

  Loomis brightened immediately. ‘What say we go to the ship’s bar and check out some action for ourselves?’

  ‘Action?’

  ‘Women. Or woman. I forgot, we’ll only need one.’

  Crompton sat bolt upright. In a tight voice he said, ‘We will not require any women.’

  ‘We won’t?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘What’s the matter, you gay or something? Because if you are, we’ll just have to work something out.’

  ‘My sexual interests are perfectly normal,’ Crompton snapped. ‘But I do not intend to do anything about them at present.’

  ‘Why not?’ Loomis asked mildly.

  ‘I have my own reasons.’

  ‘I see,’ Loomis said calmly. ‘Well, it’s entirely up to you, of course.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re being so reasonable.’

  ‘To each his own, as the philosopher said. No skin off my teeth. Why don’t you take a nap for a few hours while I borrow the body and do my thing?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Crompton said. ‘That is most definitely out of the question.’

  ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ Loomis said. ‘Don’t I have any say in what this body does?’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Crompton said. ‘In other areas you will find me more accommodating. I suggest that you turn to one of your other interests or hobbies for the present.’

  ‘Sex is my only hobby,’ Loomis said, ‘as well as being my business. Be reasonable, Al! You can’t just make believe it’s not there. Sex is a normal, physical need, you know, like eating.’

  ‘I am well aware of that,’ Crompton said. ‘But I happen to believe that the act of intercourse with a beloved person goes beyond the merely physical, that it is indeed a holy thing, the epitome of caring, and therefore must be – ah – performed only in circumstances of beauty and tranquility.’

  ‘Alistair,’ Loomis asked, ‘are you by any chance a virgin?’

  ‘What has that to do with it?’ Crompton demanded furiously.

  ‘I thought so,’ Loomis said sadly. ‘I believe we should have a little talk about sex. It is indeed a splendid and spiritual thing, just as you have always pictured it. But you left something out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The fact that sex is also fun. You have heard about fun, haven’t you?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to have some,’ Crompton said wistfully.

  ‘Then don’t give it another thought. Just let me take over for a while. Fun happens to be my best area. Did you check out that little blonde at lunch? Or maybe you’d prefer to shop around a little more first?’

  ‘What you are intimating is completely out of the question!’ Crompton cried.

  ‘But Al! My health and mental stability require –’

  ‘My decision is final,’ Crompton said. ‘It is my body, you know. I will try to make this up to you in other ways. But the subject of sex is closed.’

  Loomis made no further comment, and Crompton thought that the delicate subject had been disposed of. Several hours later he was disabused of this notion when they sat down to dinner in the ship’s main restaurant.

  ‘Don’t eat the shrimp,’ Loomis said as the appetizer was served.

  ‘Why not? You like shrimp. We both like shrimp.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. We’re not eating it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s trayf.’

  ‘Beg pardon?’

  ‘Trayf is a Jewish word that means that it is unclean food and is unfit for a Jewish person.’

  ‘But Edgar, you aren’t Jewish.’

  ‘I have just converted.’

  ‘You’ve what? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I have just become a Jew. An Orthodox Jew, as a matter of fact – none of your slipshod modern shortcuts for me, thank you very much.’

  ‘Edgar, this is ridiculous! It’s impossible! You can’t simply become a Jew just like that!’

  ‘Why not? You think I’m incapable of having a religious revelation?’

  ‘I’ve never heard anything so insane in my life,’ Crompton said. ‘Damn you! Why are you doing this?’

  ‘To give you trouble, or tsuris, as we say in the ancestral language of my new religion. Frankly, I don’t think we can eat any of this food.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s obviously not kosher. I think we’d better speak to the steward. They must make some arrangement for people of my persuasion.’

  Crompton said, ‘We are not going to speak to anyone about this insane and blasphemous notion of yours! The whole thing is simply too absurd.’

  ‘Sure it’s absurd, for a goy like you. Listen, do you think they’ve got a shul aboard this bucket? If I’m going to keep the dietary laws, I might as well pray, too. It couldn’t hurt, right? And I want to ask the captain have we got any other landslent aboard, maybe we could get up a minyan, or at least a game of bridge.’

  ‘We’re not going to speak to anyone! I refuse to go along with this!’

&
nbsp; ‘You’re prohibiting me from practicing my faith?’

  ‘I am not going to let you make a fool of me and a mockery of religion!’

  ‘So suddenly you’re the big judge of religious feeling?’ Loomis said. ‘I know what you are, Crompton – you’re nothing but a redneck Cossack! Oy, it would be just my mazel go get stuck in the head of a bigot! Would it offend your sensibilities if I got a Bible from the ship’s library and read it quietly to myself? I’ll do it in the cabin so it won’t embarrass you.’

  ‘Loomis, please! You’re making me very nervous. People are starting to look at me.’ (Loomis and Crompton’s conversation was silent, of course, but something of its dialogic nature was inevitably displayed by the facial muscles, especially those around the eyes. When the talk really got going, Crompton looked like a ticquer on speed.) ‘Couldn’t we eat our dinner quietly and then discuss – ah – the entire situation?’

  ‘Do you mean the entire situation?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘Crompton, are you trying to bribe me away from my newly found religion?’

  ‘Certainly not. I just think we can work out some sort of adult solution to … everything. Come on, have some soup.’

  ‘Well, what kind is it?’

  ‘Chicken barley. Just have a taste.’

  ‘Maybe a bissel. But if you think that means –’

  ‘Later, we’ll talk,’ Crompton said. ‘Now eat your soup, please.’

  The dinner proceeded quietly, though Loomis did insist upon humming ‘My Yiddische Mamma’ between courses. After they had finished, without discussion, Crompton lapsed into a passive, dreamy, blurry state in which he absent-mindedly relinquished control of the body.

  With deft casualness Loomis took over and made conversation with the giggly red-haired woman at the next table. She turned out to be the wife of a lockwheel configurator from Druille V, taking a brief holiday to see her parents on Ygga. Her name was Alice-June Neti. She was small, bright-eyed and vivacious. She had a slender though sumptuous figure. She was bored by the long journey through space.