{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_58682/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_58682","id":"gutenberg_58682","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/58682","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Free will and determinism -- Fiction","Philosophy -- Fiction","Psychological fiction","Science fiction","War stories"],"text":"Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                           Infinity's Child\n\n                          By Charles V. DeVet\n\n\n_\"You must kill Koski,\" the leader said. \"But I'll be dead before I\nget there,\" Buckmaster replied. \"What's that got to do with it?\" the\nleader wanted to know._\n\n\n[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science\nFiction, May 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe sense of taste was always first to go. For a week Buckmaster had\nignored the fact that everything he ate tasted like flavorless gruel.\nHe tried to make himself believe that it was some minor disorder of\nhis glandular system. But the eighth day his second sense--that of\nfeeling--left him and he staggered to his telephone in blind panic.\nThere was no doubt now but that he had the dread Plague. He was glad\nhe had taken the precaution of isolating himself from his family. He\nknew there was no hope for him now.\n\nThey sent the black wagon for him.\n\nIn the hospital he found himself herded with several hundred others\ninto a ward designed to hold less than a hundred. The beds were crowded\ntogether and he could have reached to either side of him and touched\nanother ravaged victim of the Plague.\n\nNext to go would be his sense of sight. Hope was a dead thing within\nhim. Even to think of hoping made him realize how futile it would be.\n\nHe screamed when the walls of darkness began to close in around him. It\nwas the middle of the afternoon and a shaft of sunlight fell across the\ngrimy blankets on his bed. The sunlight paled, then darkened and was\ngone. He screamed again. And again.\n\nHe heard them move him to the death ward then, but he could not even\nfeel their hands upon him.\n\nThree days later his tongue refused to form words. He fought a nameless\nterror as he strove with all the power of his will to speak. If he\ncould say only one word, he felt, the encroaching disease would have to\nretreat and he would be safe. But the one word would not come.\n\nFour horrible days later the sounds around him--the screams and the\nmuttering--became fainter, and he faced the beginning of the end.\n\nAt last it was all over. He knew he was still alive because he thought.\nBut that was all. He could not see, hear, speak, feel, or taste.\nNothing was left except thought; stark, terrible, useless thought!\n\nStrangely the awful horror faded then and his mind experienced a\ngrateful release. At first he suspected the outlet of his emotions had\nsomehow become atrophied as had his senses, and that he was peaceful\nonly because his real feelings could not break through the numbness.\n\nHowever, some subtle compulsion within him--some power struggling in\nits birth-throes--was beginning to breed its own energy and he sensed\nthat it was the strength of that compulsion that had subdued the terror.\n\nHe was at peace now, as he had never been at peace before. For a\ntime, he did not question--was entirely content to lie there and\nsavor the wonderful feeling. He had lost even the definition of fear.\nNo terror now from the slow closing of the five doors; no regrets;\nno forebodings. Only a vast happiness as he seemingly viewed life,\nsuffering, and death as a man standing on a cliff looking out over a\ngreat misty valley.\n\nBut soon came wonder and analysis. He looked backward and thought:\n_It was a world, but not my world. These are memories but not my\nmemories. I lived them and knew them--yet none of them belongs to me.\nStrange--this soul-fiber with which I think--the last function left to\nme--is not a soul-fiber I have ever known before._\n\nAnd he knew.\n\n_I have never existed before this moment._\n\nHe could not prove it nor explain it there in the dark house of his\nthinking. But he knew it was true.\n\nHe wondered if he had taken over the body and mind--complete with all\nthe mental trappings--of some other being. Or whether he had been just\nnow conceived, full-blown and with memories of a synthetic past perhaps\nimplanted also in the minds of those with whom he was supposed to have\ncome in contact. He did not know. He was only sure that, before this\nmoment, he had not been.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith the realization came the certainty that he would not die. The\nforce he felt within him--he was not certain whether it was a part of\nhimself, or the evidence of an outside control--was too powerful.\n\nThe inner spontaneity gathered strength until it became a striving,\npersistent vital force, a will of imperious purpose. It moved him and\nhe moved his tongue and spoke. \"I will not die!\" he shouted.\n\nSome time later he grew aware that his sense of hearing had returned.\nHe heard a voice say, \"He was in the last stages about an hour ago,\nbefore he spoke. I thought I'd better call you.\"\n\n\"You did right,\" a second voice answered. \"What's his name?\"\n\n\"Clifford Buckmaster.\"\n\nThey're talking about me, he thought. Like a burst of glory, sight\nreturned. He looked up and saw two men standing beside his bed. The\nolder man wore a plain black suit. The younger was dressed in the white\nuniform of a doctor.\n\n\"He can see now,\" the older man said. His was a voice Buckmaster\ndisliked.\n\n\"It looks as if he's going to recover,\" the doctor said. \"That's never\nhappened before. Do you want me to leave him here with the dying ones?\"\n\n\"No. Wheel him into your office. And leave us alone there. My name is\nJames Wagner. You have, of course, heard of me. I am the Director of\nSecurity.\"\n\nBuckmaster still rested in his hospital bed. They had screwed up the\nback until he sat almost straight. In his mouth there was a slight tang\nand knew the sense of taste returned. When he was able to feel again he\nwould be entirely well. Yes, he'd heard of Wagner before. He nodded.\n\n\"And I know who you are,\" Wagner said. \"You are one of the Underground\nthat is trying to overthrow the General. That is correct, is it not?\"\n\nAlmost with surprise Buckmaster felt Wagner's words register in his\nmind. His implanted memories were still strange to him. But he recalled\nthem quickly.\n\nTwenty years before, in 1979, the great Atomic War had ended. In the\nbeginning the two giants faced each other across the separating oceans.\nNo one was certain who sent the first bomb across in its controlled\nrocket; each side blamed the other.\n\nThe methods of each were terrible in their efficiency. The great\nmanufacturing cities were the first to go. After them went the vital\ntransportation centers.\n\nStriving mightily for an early advantage each country forced landing\narmies on the enemy's shores. The armies invaded with their hundreds of\nthousands of men--and the bombings continued.\n\nThe colossus of the western hemisphere had set up autonomous launching\nstations, so that if and when their major cities had all been bombed,\ntheir ruling bodies decimated and scattered--even if there were no\nlonger any vestiges of a central authority--the launchings would\ncontinue.\n\nThe autonomous units had been a stroke of master planning, so ingenious\nthat it was logical the giant of Eurasia had devised a similar plan.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBy the time the bombs had all been used, or their stations rendered\nincapable of functioning, the major cities were blackened, gutted,\ninoperative masses of destruction. Soon the invading armies no longer\nreceived orders, or supplies of rations and arms. When this happened\nthey knew governments they represented had ceased to exist. They were\nforced to live by the ingenuity of their commanders and their ability\nto forage. They could not even capitulate; there was no one to whom\nthey could surrender.\n\nThose armies with weak commanders fell apart and one by one their men\ndied at the hands of hostile natives, or hunger.\n\nThe armies under strong commanders, like General Andrei Koski, of the\nEurasian command, carved themselves a place in their new environment.\n\nKoski had landed with a force of seventy thousand on the east coast of\nold Mexico. His army was different from the other invaders only in a\nsecret weapon which they brought with them. The weapon's appearance was\nsimple but it carried the potentiality of destruction for a world.\n\nActing under previous orders from his government, Koski began moving\nnorthward, and was soon cutting a swath a hundred miles wide up the\nwest bank of the Mississippi. By the time he reached the southern\nborder of Minnesota he realized from what he saw on all sides, that for\nall practical purposes the war was over. His only choice now was to\nfind a means of survival for himself and his men.\n\nWhen Koski reached Duluth he circled the city. Almost miraculously\nit had escaped the bombs. Its population was only a little over two\nhundred thousand, and Koski still retained nearly fifty thousand\nhardened fighting men.\n\nHowever, Duluth, Koski found, was governed by Earl Olson, an\nex-brigadier and a man equally as strong as himself. The city was\nfortified, and garrisoned by a force of well trained civilians who\nwould fight to their death to defend their city and families. And they\nwere well led by Olson.\n\nKoski knew he could capture the city if he decided to, but the price\nwould be too dear. He moved on along the lakeshore and took over the\ncity of Superior. Here he entrenched himself solidly and set up an\nefficient military government.\n\nBy law every woman in the city still capable of bearing children was\nforced to take two husbands, at least one of which must be a Ruskie, as\nthe invaders were called by the natives. In this way Koski insured a\nplentiful supply of children, most of whom would be loyal to him.\n\nA bonus of ten thousand dollars was offered to any woman from the\noutlying districts who would move to Superior and take two of its\ncitizens in marriage. After the first hesitation, the girls and young\nwomen and widows flocked in from their barren farms and hamlets.\n\nBy the end of twenty years the city had grown to near one hundred fifty\nthousand.\n\nDuluth in the meantime grew to three hundred thousand. Earl Olson ruled\nabsolutely, but wisely and well. Between the two cities an alert truce\nheld through the years and mutually advantageous trade flourished.\n\nKoski, in his city, held all authority in his own tight grip,\nadministered by his former officers and backed by the undeviating\nloyalty of his soldiers. His rule was stern and when necessary, bloody.\nIt might have been bloodier except for the threat of intervention by\nOlson.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are always men who fret under the hand of tyranny and the\nUnderground had gradually risen until it grew into a powerful\norganization. Its demands were for a representative government chosen\nby vote of the people. This, of course, Koski refused. As a consequence\nthe Underground formed an active resistance, with the avowed purpose\nof killing Koski. A retaliatory blood bath was prevented only by\nthe threat of intervention by Olson, who had many friends in the\nUnderground, especially his brother-in-law, Lester Oliver.\n\nBut right now none of this seemed very important to Buckmaster. Not\nimportant enough for him to bother answering.\n\n\"Answer when you're spoken to!\" Wagner roared.\n\nFor a moment Buckmaster deliberated not replying. Just how unusual\nwas the difference he had discovered in himself? Could he be hurt by\nsomeone like Wagner? He decided to wait until later to put it to the\ntest.\n\n\"What do you want me to say?\" he asked.\n\n\"I'm going to lay my cards on the table,\" Wagner said. \"I want you to\ncome over to our side.\"\n\nStill not very interested, Buckmaster asked, \"Why should I?\"\n\n\"I think I can give you some very good reasons. In fact, unless you're\na bigger fool than I think you are, I can convince you that it is the\nonly wise thing to do. Because of your relatively smaller numbers, the\nPlague has caused havoc in your Underground.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Buckmaster answered. \"But we will have a vaccine before long.\"\nHe knew this was purely bluff.\n\n\"Possibly.\" Wagner pulled his cheeks up but his eyes remained chilled\nand cold. He had the trick of smiling mirthlessly. \"But even if I\nwere to grant you that, we estimate that already nearly half of your\norganization is dead from the Plague. There will be more before you can\ndo anything. The rest we can hunt down at our leisure. So you see, even\nif we let you live, you'd soon be a man without a party.\"\n\n\"We could start all over again if we had to.\" The first signs of\nfeeling came back with a twinge of pain at the tip of the little finger\non his left hand.\n\n\"I doubt it very much.\"\n\n\"What would I be expected to do?\" Buckmaster asked.\n\n\"Simply this. Go back among your former comrades and act normal. But\nlet me know what they're planning. In time we'd get them anyway, but\nwith your help, the job will be easier--cleaner, let us say.\"\n\n\"In other words, you want me to act as the Judas ram?\"\n\n\"Call it what you like,\" Wagner's eyes narrowed. \"Just remember that\nyou've nothing to lose.\"\n\n\"And after?\"\n\n\"You can name your own price. Within reason, of course.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWagner laughed. It wasn't necessary for him to answer. Buckmaster had\nseen the results of Wagner's sadism in the past. Whatever else might be\nmystifying to him he knew one thing: The instinct of self-preservation\nwas still as strong as ever. He did not want to take the chance that\nthe extraneous will he felt within him would be strong enough to combat\nwhat Wagner would try to do to him.\n\n\"Let's say I agree,\" he said. \"What comes next?\"\n\n\"Can you move your limbs yet?\" Wagner asked.\n\nBuckmaster flexed his fingers and lifted his arms. \"I believe I'm\nstrong enough to walk,\" he said.\n\n\"By the way,\" Wagner inquired, \"have you any idea why you didn't die?\"\n\nBuckmaster shook his head.\n\n\"Well, no matter. Lie back and relax. Now look into my eyes.\nConcentrate on the right one.\"\n\nBuckmaster knew what was coming now. Mind contact!\n\nSubtly he felt the first tentative probe of Wagner's thought antenna.\nOne part of his brain accepted it passively, but another part used the\nprobe as a bridge.\n\nWagner's thoughts seemed unguarded. Buckmaster easily read everything\nthere. He had to hide his surprise at what he learned. Things that\nWagner, by no process of logic would ever reveal to him. Reflections\nconcerning the Plague. Remembrances of snatches of conversation with\nthe General. Wagner's relations with women. Sex occupied many of his\nthoughts. The fear of Olson was there, in spite of Wagner's brave words\nearlier.\n\nThen Buckmaster read about himself in Wagner's mind and was certain\nsomething was wrong here. He saw that Wagner had no intention of ever\nletting him live, no matter how useful he might be. There was death for\nhimself as soon as that usefulness was over.\n\n\"Damn it,\" Wagner cursed, \"relax. Let your mind open up to me. Are you\ndeliberately trying to get yourself back in trouble by being stubborn?\"\n\nThen he knew. The contact had been one-way. He had read Wagner's mind\nbecause Wagner had not realized he could do it, and had not thrown up a\nguard.\n\nCautiously Buckmaster let fragments of careful thoughts escape. The\nmoment he lowered the barriers of his mind he felt Wagner's power beat\nagainst him, wave upon wave. The sensation was frightening.\n\nWagner seemed satisfied. Buckmaster could read very little in his mind\nnow.\n\n\"Done,\" Wagner said. \"Now, one last warning. Don't try to double-cross\nme, or you'll regret the day you were born.\"\n\nBuckmaster's choices of action were very few. He doubted that he could\nmake it but at least he should try to get to Duluth.\n\nAt the toll bridge across the arm of the lake he bought a ticket.\nNobody bothered him. He breathed easier as he rested against the iron\nrailing waiting for the gate to open; then stopped breathing as a tall\nman--one of the Ruskies--leaned over beside him and said, \"It won't\nwork, friend.\"\n\nBuckmaster tore up his ticket. Strangely, there was a sense of relief.\nThe force--the presence within him--whatever it was, wanted him to\nreturn to his friends. It didn't compel him, it used no coercion. It\nmerely presented good reasons for doing so. He could do more good there\nthan by fleeing, it suggested. And, so strongly as almost to blot out\nall other emotions, was the implanted desire--an urgent, compelling\ncommand--to stay and kill Koski.\n\nAs Buckmaster started back, the thought struck him: Was he merely a\npawn being moved by this inner power? Did he no longer have freedom of\naction? Was his will still his own?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWagner was annoyed to receive the summons from Koski. He fumed inwardly\nas he mounted the stairs to the General's second floor receiving room.\nIt was always humiliating to be summoned like a common officer when he\nwas in fact the ruler of the city.\n\nKoski had slipped baldly during the past few years but Wagner knew\nbetter than to put the old figurehead out of the way. He needed the\npower of that prestige until he had made his own position impregnable.\n\nOriginally Wagner had been an unlettered lad from the steppes. When\nhe had been made Koski's orderly, he had used his native cunning and\nslyness to ingratiate himself with the old commander. Soon Koski\nhad made him his personal adjutant. From that advantageous position\nof trust it had been relatively simple for him to use his insidious\ntalents to secure advantages for himself.\n\nDuring the process of organizing Superior's government Wagner had used\nhis influence to get his own adherents appointed to key posts. By the\ntime Koski began to succumb to the ravages of senility, Wagner held the\nmost powerful position in the city--that of Security Administrator.\n\nBy now Koski was so far gone that he did not even realize he did not\nrule; that the city's functions had come under the control, direct and\nindirect, of Wagner.\n\n\"You wanted to see me, Sir?\" Wagner asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" the General answered, the shaggy hairs of his eyebrows meeting\nin a frown. \"Have the doctors found a remedy for the Plague yet? It has\ngone so far now that soon the manpower we must have for the Campaign\nwill be threatened.\"\n\n\"Not yet, Sir, but they are within sight of it.\" Wagner was always\ncareful to keep the scorn he felt from his voice. The old dodderer was\nuseful and must be pampered--for awhile.\n\nThe General still clung to his dream of the Campaign. His ultimate\nplan, from the time he had taken over Superior, had been to use the\ncity as a base from which to spread his rule, until he had control of\nthe entire continent--in the name of the mother country, of course.\nHe had never let himself see that it was but a dream. He was certain\nthat he would find other pockets of his fellow-men who, like himself\nhad set up autonomous governments. With their aid he still hoped for\nan ultimate victory over the enemy. This would always remain enemy\nterritory to him.\n\n\"If we don't stop the Plague before it spreads to our own men, I'll be\nforced to use the Weapon,\" Koski growled. His great bony features had\nlost all power of expression except their habitual scowl, but his voice\nwas still deep and vibrant. \"I'll kill every man, woman, and child in\nthe country!\"\n\nWagner had to admire the will to destruction that still rode the old\nman. He may have weakened in his mind but he had never softened. And\nthe Weapon? It was the one secret that Wagner had not been able to\nlearn.\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" Wagner agreed. \"If you should ever feel the need to use the\nWeapon, I ask you to remember that my only wish is to be of aid to my\nGeneral.\"\n\nKoski's washed blue eyes grew crafty. \"I fully realize that. But I will\nneed no help. You may accept my compliments and withdraw.\"\n\nWagner muttered a soft oath under his breath as he bowed humbly.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"As you can see, I didn't die,\" Buckmaster said. The two chairs in the\nsmall room were occupied by the men he faced. He sat on a steel-framed\nbed.\n\n\"No.\" Lester Oliver was thoughtful. \"I'm wondering why you didn't. Do\nyou have any explanation?\"\n\n\"Only something that you wouldn't understand, unless it happened to\nyou,\" Buckmaster answered. \"I couldn't explain it.\"\n\n\"Try.\" Oliver spoke softly, but Buckmaster knew that behind that\nsoftness Oliver hid a bulldog tenacity.\n\nCarefully, patiently Buckmaster told about the Force, trying to make\nthem sense it as he had.\n\n\"You feel then,\" Cecil Cuff, the other man in the room, said, \"that\nyou're in the grip of something over which you have no direct control?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Are you certain that it is not the contact Wagner imposed on you?\"\n\n\"It came before Wagner was present,\" Buckmaster replied.\n\nCuff turned to Oliver. \"I know he believes what he is saying,\" he\nsaid. \"But it's obvious that his mind has been tampered with. If we\nlet him live, we'll be taking the risk that the General and Wagner are\ngetting at us, through him.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Oliver answered.\n\n\"I think he should be killed,\" Cuff said.\n\nOliver was thoughtful for a long moment. \"What do you think, Clifford?\"\nhe asked gently. He always called Buckmaster by his first name.\n\nBuckmaster breathed deeply. \"Naturally I want to live,\" he answered.\n\"But from the viewpoint of the Underground, I suppose Cuff is right.\"\n\n\"You say that you feel that this Force is a protective one,\" Oliver\nsaid. \"Does it seem to you that perhaps we couldn't kill you--that it\nwould prevent us?\"\n\nBuckmaster searched for words to express his thoughts. \"I feel,\"\nhe said, \"that it won't let me be killed. It seems that I have a\nmission to fulfill, and that it won't let me die--at least not until I\naccomplish what it desires. However, I feel also that it will, or can,\ndo nothing concrete to prevent my being killed. It will probably aid me\nby convincing you that it would be better to let me live.\"\n\n\"Do you feel that its purpose might be much the same as ours, and that\nit will attempt to convince us of that?\" Oliver asked.\n\n\"Something like that,\" Buckmaster answered. \"At least the urge to kill\nKoski is so strong within me that I know I would not hesitate if I had\nthe chance, even if it meant my own life.\"\n\n\"Would you attempt to stop us if we tried to kill you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nOliver closed his eyes. He was silent for so long that it seemed he\nmust be sleeping. But Buckmaster knew that Oliver's brain worked with\nlightning speed while his body reposed. Oliver was the most intelligent\nman he had ever known. He was head of the Underground solely because he\nwas the fittest man for the job.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFinally Oliver spoke. \"We'll come back to it later,\" he said. \"Did you\nlearn anything that might help us, Clifford?\"\n\n\"I learned that the Plague is spread by contact--only after the first\nsymptoms show themselves. I read that in Wagner's mind before he\nrealized that I was reading his thoughts.\"\n\n\"That will help. You say you made contact before you became _en\nrapport_ with Wagner. Can you control what you let him learn through\nyou?\"\n\n\"I believe I can, but I can't be certain.\"\n\n\"If you could be certain, we wouldn't have to kill you,\" Oliver said.\n\n\"You would be taking a chance,\" Buckmaster replied.\n\n\"We can't afford to take any chances,\" Cuff said. \"He--\"\n\n\"You're forgetting one thing, Cecil,\" Oliver interrupted. \"As things\nstand right now, we're a lost cause. The Plague has killed many of our\nbest men. The only thing that keeps Koski from staging a blood-bath is\nhis fear of Governor Olson in Duluth. And pretty soon he won't have to\nfear that. We have only to lose another key dozen and Olson will have\nno friends here to aid.\"\n\n\"May I offer a compromise?\" Buckmaster asked. \"As matters stand now,\nour only chance of winning freedom from Koski's savage rule is to kill\nhim. And to do that we will have to kill Wagner first. Am I correct?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Oliver raised his head. \"What do you have to suggest?\"\n\n\"Let me try to kill Wagner. If I succeed our cause will have taken a\nbig step. If he kills me first, then you've lost nothing more than if\nyou'd killed me yourselves.\"\n\nAfter a barely perceptible hesitation Oliver nodded in agreement.\n\nFor the rest of the day Buckmaster improvised a simulated course of\naction to let seep through to Wagner whenever he felt a probe. He kept\nhis mind blank otherwise and was quite certain that he carried on the\ndeception well. He caught nothing from Wagner in return that was not\ndeliberately let through. He suspected that his own control was as\ngood. Though he had not had the practice at this that Wagner had.\n\nToward evening he improvised a crisis. The Underground was plotting\nsomething big, he transmitted. He made the need for action imperative\nand asked for a personal interview. At first Wagner demurred. He\nwanted Buckmaster to stay on and give first hand reports. Buckmaster\ngave hints in return that he was suspected by the other members, and\nindicated that he must leave while still able to. Finally Wagner agreed.\n\n\"You realize the risk you're taking, coming with me, Cecil?\"\nBuckmaster asked.\n\n\"I do,\" Cuff said with his unchangeable reserve. \"But you'll need my\nhelp.\"\n\nBuckmaster wished he himself could remain as cool. His own nerves felt\nlike wires that had been drawn too tightly.\n\nCuff was tall and robust, with a pessimistic outlook on life. He seemed\nto sit back and watch life and its peoples as a spectator, willing to\nfight ruthlessly for what he believed was right, but never expecting to\ndiscover anything fine enough in his fellow men to hope for anything\nbetter from them. He had touched the borders of an existence that\nwas mean and hard and dirty and he had long ago despaired of finding\nanything else. Yet there was nothing apathetic about his personality.\nLife's illusions were gone, but its fascination remained.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"I didn't think you trusted me too much,\" Buckmaster said. Cuff\nacknowledged the statement by nodding his head. \"I believed that you\nmight be under Wagner's power. Wagner is a brute trying to break us. On\nthis trip you're going to make your own heaven or hell, and if you've\ngot the courage to face it, I'll back you up.\"\n\nIn the Administration Building the girl at the information desk told\nthem, \"The Director will see you in a moment.\" She led them into a\nwaiting room.\n\nThree hard-faced men, all wearing black shirts, came in. They had the\nmark of killers about them.\n\n\"Stand up.\"\n\nThey checked Buckmaster and Cuff for weapons. None was found. All five\ntook the elevator to the sixth floor.\n\nWagner was seated at his desk waiting for them when they walked into\nhis office. He smiled his mirthless smile. \"I see you brought company,\"\nhe said. \"We'll get two birds with one stone.\"\n\nBuckmaster knew then that there was little use trying any further\ndeception. Wagner knew. If he were able to squeeze through just a short\nten seconds the job could still be done. The three bodyguards stood a\nfew yards behind them.\n\n\"I have something here that will interest you,\" Buckmaster said.\nSlowly, unhurriedly, but wasting no motion, he unbuttoned one flap on\nhis shirt and reached a hand inside.\n\nHe peeled back the long strip of adhesive tape covering the cavity\nbelow his ribs. He pulled out the small single-shot derringer concealed\nthere. He aimed from the waist and put the bullet into the middle of\nWagner's smile.\n\nThe smile cracked, and the crack became a shatter, spreading in all\ndirections. Buckmaster saw the trap then. He had shot at a reflection\nof Wagner. It had been a cleverly arranged mirror deception.\n\nCuff turned to run through the door they had entered. But Buckmaster\nwas so certain any attempt to escape would be in vain that he did not\neven move. Cuff found the three guards blocking the doorway.\n\nBuckmaster watched Wagner enter from opposite the cracked mirror. There\nwere two more of his bodyguards with him.\n\nWhen the guards closed in Cuff struggled until they spun him back\nagainst the wall where his head crashed with a dull crunch. All the\nfight went out of him and he slumped in the arms of the men who held\nhim.\n\nTwo of the guards held Buckmaster's arms.\n\n\"A couple of fine birds,\" Wagner said as he stood in front of them.\n\nCuff straightened with an effort of will and shook his head until his\nvision cleared. He leveled his glance at Wagner. \"You're a mongrel\ncur,\" he said unemotionally, \"licking at the General's boots. He'll\nthrow you another scrap for this day's work.\" Both he and Buckmaster\nknew that he sealed his own fate with the words. The one thing Wagner\ncould not tolerate was ridicule, worse in the presence of his own men.\n\nBuckmaster caught the hard flat explosion in his face and pain in his\neardrums as the gun that appeared in Wagner's hand went off.\n\nAs he watched Cuff slump he knew the man was beyond torture. He\nsuspected that this was what Cuff had wanted. He had taken the easy way\nout.\n\nBuckmaster leaned his shoulders back and then with sudden violence\npulled his arms free from the guards' grip. He slapped Wagner across\nthe mouth with his left hand and brought his right fist around in a\nshort arc that crushed the bone in Wagner's nose.\n\nHe made no resistance as the guards grabbed him and twisted his arm\ncruelly behind his back. The hurt from Wagner's shattered nose brought\na bright glisten of pain into his eyes.\n\n\"That was a mistake,\" Wagner said, the depth of his anger making his\nvoice soft and husky, \"I'm going to make you whine like a dog.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe general was suffering the tragedy of a strong man whose mind\nwas turning senile--and who realized it. Only the two alternative\nobjectives remained virile; the Campaign and, that failing, the Weapon.\nThe Weapon gave him his only solace in times of trouble. Now, going\ndown into the basement of his house, he sought it out again. Letting\nhimself through two thick concrete doors, which he opened with a key\nthat he wore about his neck at all times, he entered the room that held\nhis potentially terrible secret.\n\nThe outer contour of the Weapon was a rectangular frame of rough\nlumber. Inside was a metal box, and in this reposed a semi-glutinous\nmass of liquid. Nothing more. On the shelf above rested a bottle of\naqua fortis. Quite simple substances--apart. Together they could spell\nthe destruction of a world.\n\nThe Dictator himself, had given Koski his instructions long before,\nback in the homeland.\n\n\"General,\" you are being sent with an army, but its purpose is to\nprotect your Weapon, and to bring it into a position of maximum\neffectiveness, rather than to fight. You fully understand, I hope, that\nif you ever have to use it, your mission will certainly be fatal to\nyourself?\"\n\n\"I understand, Sire,\" Koski answered. \"I am thankful for the honor you\nhave done me.\"\n\n\"Your mission is to carry the Weapon to a central location on the\nNorth American continent. I believe you have the force necessary to\naccomplish that.\"\n\nKoski nodded but said nothing.\n\n\"The component ingredients of the Weapon I know no better than you\nyourself. It was developed at the Institute. Its special faculty is its\nability to free hydrogen from the moisture in the air, and to start a\nchain reaction. The physicists tell me that it will sear most of the\ncontinent once it starts reacting. About the only spot that would be\nspared are the dry regions, and maybe not even those. Just one thing\nyou must remember--do not use it unless you are certain that the war is\ndefinitely lost. Do you understand the importance of that command?\"\n\n\"I do,\" Koski answered. \"But wouldn't it be better to use it as soon as\npossible? The lives of my men and myself would be a small price to pay\nfor victory.\"\n\n\"True, except for one big question,\" the Dictator replied. \"The\nexplosive is so deadly that it was impossible to experiment. There is\nno such thing as a little bit of it. Consequently we are not certain\nof its effects. We expect, and hope, that it will dissipate itself as\nit spreads too far from its initial explosion point, but we cannot be\ncertain. It is possible that, once released, it will devastate the\nentire world. You see now why it must be used only as a last resort?\"\n\nMany times since Koski had gone over that conversation in his mind.\nHad the war been lost? Neither side had come through with functioning\ngovernments. Therefore, what course should he take? Perhaps the\ninvaders even now ruled the homeland. Would he gain, or would he lose\nthe last chance for ultimate victory by setting off the explosive?\n\nDuring the rare moments when his mind cleared, Koski realized the small\nchance the Campaign would have. At such times the Weapon beckoned. He\nknew then that the Campaign would never be completed in his lifetime.\nWagner, however, was a very good man, with all the ideals of his\ncountry. He would carry on.\n\nIt needed only a slight variation in the trend of events, to tip that\nscale one way or the other. Even now the General held the bottle of\naqua fortis in his hand--undecided. The fate of the world teetered.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"You aren't so pretty anymore,\" Wagner said.\n\n\"Neither are you,\" Buckmaster answered through battered, bloody lips.\nHe wondered where he found the strength to keep taunting Wagner. He\ncould feel that his face was a lumpy mess. One eye was closed and\nblood, running down into the other, kept blinding him. Every muscle in\nhis body ached from the pounding it had taken, and he suspected that\nhis left arm was broken. He sagged in his bonds.\n\nWagner, he knew, was deliberately gauging the punishment. He meant to\ntorture him to the verge of death, but he did not intend to let him die\nwithout further torment. Buckmaster wondered how much more he could\nstand.\n\nLong ago he had despaired of any help from the Force. He had felt\nnothing since the torture started. It was evident that it couldn't do\nanything, or would not, to stop this orgy of sadism. And he knew that\nany subtle attempts to divert Wagner from his sadistic pleasure would\nbe useless.\n\nWagner had all the instruments required for refined torture here. It\nwas evident that he had used them many times in the past. He strapped\nBuckmaster's wrists to a waist-high wooden rack.\n\n\"You'll be pleased to know that I have made a thorough study of the\nhuman anatomy,\" Wagner said. \"Therefore, when I begin cutting off your\nlimbs, one joint at a time, you won't have to worry. I'll see that you\ndo not die--and also that you retain consciousness. I wouldn't want you\nto miss the exquisite delicacy with which I perform the operations.\nYou'll be a basket case when I get through.\"\n\nWagner picked up a short scalpel with an edge honed to a fine, razor\nsharpness. \"This is a delicate little experiment that I find very\neffective,\" he said.\n\nHe lifted Buckmaster's right index finger and cut deeply through the\nflesh of its tip. The intense acuteness of the sensitive nerves made\nthe agony unbearable. Wave after wave of shock sensations struck at\nhis nerve fibers as the blade traced a raw red path through another\nfinger-tip.\n\nSickness gathered in his stomach and retched up into his throat to gag\nhim. He sucked in great gulps of air until at last he could stand no\nmore pain and welcome oblivion blanked him out.\n\nHe returned to consciousness to find Wagner still there--waiting.\n\n\"Tsk, tsk,\" Wagner chided. \"So you're not so tough, after all? And just\nwhen it was getting interesting.\"\n\nThis time Buckmaster did not have the strength to defy him. He was\nbeaten. He prayed that Wagner would tire of his pleasure before he had\nto stand any more. He wanted to go out still a man, and not a broken\nhulk, tearful, pleading, begging for mercy.\n\n\"I think you're ready for something a bit more subtle,\" Wagner said. He\nconcentrated his gaze on Buckmaster's eyes and slowly, cruelly built up\na mental strain. The mind contact still held. Buckmaster realized that\nWagner had been keeping this until he was too mentally whipped to fight\nback.\n\nHe was surprised then to feel that he fought off the pressure with\nlittle strain to himself. Still lurking there in his mind, was the\nForce, quiet, hardly felt, but virile, with a sense of dynamic\nquiescence potency! Hope came where all hope had been dead.\n\nSomething within him throbbed like electricity, and he sent a bolt of\nmental energy at Wagner's head.\n\nThe shock of the emotional concussion brought blood bursting from\nWagner's nostrils and eye sockets. A red tide poured from his lips.\nHis head dropped loosely and Buckmaster knew that Wagner was dead even\nbefore he fell from his chair.\n\nBuckmaster sat astounded at the demonstration of power. He sat for a\nmoment listening to the inner voice that sent up its answers to his\nsilent questions. No, it hadn't been able to help him before. Its\npower was not physical. No, it could not help him escape. From here he\nwas on his own. The only satisfaction he received was the closer entity\nhe had found between himself and the Force. It seemed to him now that\nit did not come from the outside. Rather it was an essential part of\nhimself. Or, more exactly, he was a part of that Force.\n\nBuckmaster worked his wrists backwards in their thongs until he forced\nthe leather straps over the bases of his hands. Thus he was able to\nbend his wrists. Slowly, painfully, he brought up his right leg until\nhis foot rested next to his right hand. The left foot next. Once he\nalmost lost his balance. But at last he stood with his feet straddling\nhis hands.\n\nHe exerted all the strength of his leg, arm, and trunk muscles. The\npain from his broken arm was a sickening thing but slowly the leather\nbands began to tear loose from the rivets that held them. A last mighty\nexertion and he was free.\n\nWagner had a private elevator. Buckmaster entered and went to a ground\nfloor. He walked out of the building through a tradesmen's entrance\ninto a dusky alley.\n\nKeeping his good arm in front of his face he staggered around the\ncorner and into a drugstore and reached a phone booth without being\nobserved. He put in a call and crouched in the phone booth for the ten\nlong minutes it took Oliver to come for him.\n\n\"Two weeks aren't very long to get you well, Clifford,\" Oliver said,\n\"but I'm afraid it's all the time we have. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"You did your best,\" Buckmaster answered, \"At least you've got me\npretty well patched up.\"\n\n\"The last reports were that the police have drawn a ring around this\ndistrict, and that they're closing in.\"\n\n\"Do we have any way out?\"\n\n\"I hate to have to say this,\" Oliver said slowly. \"But the rest of us\ncan get out--if we don't take you with us.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBuckmaster had expected this. It seemed that he had known from the\nbeginning that he would never live to see the end of this adventure.\n\n\"It's all right. Is there anything I can do to help?\"\n\n\"No. They won't stop us if you aren't along. You're the man they're\nafter. If there were any way I could help you by staying, I'd never\nleave. But I'd only be captured with you, and nothing gained.\"\n\n\"Of course I understand.\" Buckmaster rested his hand for a moment on\nthe old leader's shoulder. \"Don't feel badly about it, Lester. The men\nneed you. You owe it to them to get out if you can.\"\n\nOliver gripped his hand. \"Before I go I want you to know how grateful\nwe are for the help you've given us. Without Wagner the General won't\nbe nearly as hard to handle. And one other thing: I don't want you to\nhope too much, but there's still a chance we may be able to get you\nout. I'm trying a long shot. So if someone comes for you, go with him.\nIn the meantime, keep your chin up.\"\n\nThey shook hands again. Buckmaster surmised that Oliver was trying to\ngive him something to cling to while he waited for the end. Then he was\nalone.\n\nThree hours later Buckmaster spotted the first of his executioners: One\nof the Ruskies that walked with studied unconcern across the street.\n\nAlmost at the same time he heard a rap on the rear door of the\napartment. He drew the gun Oliver had left with him and walked slowly\nto the door. \"Who is it?\"\n\n\"Oliver sent me for you,\" the voice on the other side of the door\nanswered.\n\n\"Come in with your hands up.\" Buckmaster flattened himself against a\nside wall and shoved his gun into the ribs of a tall young man.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"My name is August Gamoll,\" the man said. Somehow the name was\nfamiliar. He should recognize it, Buckmaster thought. Abruptly he did.\n\n\"What are you trying to do?\" Buckmaster asked harshly. \"Make a\nsmall-time hero of yourself with this grandstand play?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" Gamoll answered. \"I'm the long shot Oliver mentioned.\"\n\n\"You're lying.\"\n\n\"Then how would I know what Oliver said?\"\n\n\"It may be a lucky guess. Why should I trust you?\"\n\n\"Mainly because you have no choice. What have you got to lose?\" He was\na cool character.\n\nBuckmaster shrugged. He hated this playing it blind, but the fellow\nwas right. \"O.K.,\" he said. \"You might as well take your hands down.\nLet's go.\"\n\nThey went down the stairs. At the rear exit Gamoll looked out. He wore\nno hat. The wind from the alley fluffed the hair on the side of his\nhead.\n\n\"All clear,\" Gamoll said. \"Make a dash for it. When you get in the\ncarriage lie low. Now!\"\n\nThe die was cast, Buckmaster decided. He'd play it to the hilt now, all\nor nothing. He sprinted across the dirt of the alley and jerked open a\ndoor of the carriage. He threw himself inside and hugged the floor.\n\nSoon the carriage began to roll. When they had travelled about a half\nblock it stopped. Buckmaster drew in his breath. This was the critical\npoint. If Gamoll could bluff his way through now the rest would be\ncomparatively easy.\n\n\"Give me an escort, Captain,\" he heard Gamoll say. \"I don't want to get\ntied up here. I understand there's going to be some shooting soon.\"\n\n\"That's right, sir,\" a crisp military voice answered. \"It's best that\nyou get out fast. I'll send one of my men with you.\"\n\nThe carriage started forward again. A half-hour later it stopped once\nmore.\n\n\"You may get up now,\" Gamoll said. \"We're going inside. Stay close to\nme.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Buckmaster was not surprised when he alighted and found himself near a\nside door to the General's private residence.\n\n\"I don't get all this,\" Buckmaster said. \"You've had me here for six\ndays now, and I've only seen you twice. Why should the General's son be\nhiding me?\"\n\n\"Quite simple. I don't like his methods, or his government, any more\nthan you do. Oliver knew that when he sent his message to me asking for\nhelp.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say that you'd help us kill your own father?\"\n\n\"As to that,\" Gamoll said, \"if you'll notice, my hair and eyes are\nbrown.\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"Koski's eyes and my mother's are blue. You probably know that it is\ngenetically impossible for two-blue-eyed people to have a brown-eyed\nson.\"\n\n\"Then you're not his son?\" Buckmaster was silent for a minute. \"That's\nwhy you took the name of your mother's other husband,\" he mused.\n\n\"If you remember, when the law was passed that each woman must have two\nhusbands, the General set the example by marrying a woman who already\nhad a husband. He knows that I am not his son biologically, but I am\nlegally, and I have full inheritance rights. He was too smart--as well\nas legally exact--to disown me.\"\n\n\"That means you'd automatically become the government head if the\nGeneral died?\"\n\n\"Yes. But you're wrong if you think that I am doing this from any\nselfish motive. If I succeed, I'll institute a democratic form of\ngovernment at my first opportunity.\"\n\n\"I'll wait until I see it,\" Buckmaster answered cynically. \"But if\nit's true, are your ideals strong enough to help us kill him?\"\n\nFor the first time Gamoll seemed uncertain of himself. \"Why is it\nnecessary to kill him, especially now that Wagner is dead? We both\nknow that Wagner did the actual ruling. And the General is an old man,\nwithout much longer to live. We'll win if we do no more than stand by.\"\n\n\"He must die--and soon!\" Buckmaster exclaimed, surprised at the\nvehemence of the words. So vital had been the command, that he knew\nwhat he had said was true: Koski _must_ die, in the very near future.\nThough he himself was not certain of the need for such urgency.\n\n\"I suppose I understand,\" Gamoll said, a trifle uneasily. \"You have to\nact in self-defense. If you don't kill him, he will probably be able to\nkill many more of your men before he dies. But try to see his side. He\nis the representative of a Cause that is just--to his way of reasoning;\nso right and so just that he will do anything to advance it. Whatever\nwe may think of him, his conscience is clear. I only ask you this: If\nyou can see your way clear to attain your ends without killing him,\nwill you let him live?\"\n\nFor another nine days Buckmaster stayed with Gamoll. He had nothing\nto occupy his time. In idle curiosity he went through the books in\nGamoll's library. The young man owned many good books.\n\nBefore long Buckmaster's idle browsing turned to an intent search. For\nthe first time he began finding clues to the mystery that rode within\nhim.\n\nHis first clue, he thought, was a passage he read in a physics book\nentitled, \"The Limitations of Science,\" by Sullivan: _Research has\nchanged our whole conception of matter. The first step was the\nexperimental demonstration that there exist little electrified bodies,\nvery much smaller than a hydrogen atom, called electrons. Measurement\nwas made with the result that the \"whole\" mass of the electron was\nfound to be due to its electric charge. This was the first indication\nthat the material universe is not the substantial, objective thing\nwe had always taken it to be. Matter began to thin away into the\ncompletely spectral thing it has now become. The notion of \"substance\"\nhad to be replaced by the notion of \"behavior\"._\n\nHe passed readily from physics to the more fertile field of philosophy\nwith the groping statement of Voltaire: _I have seen that which is\ncalled matter, both as the star Sirius, and as the smallest atom which\ncan be perceived with the microscope; and I do not know what this\nmatter is._\n\nHe pursued this quest readily with the philosopher Schopenhauer and\npassed almost imperceptibly into metaphysics: _I will never believe\nthat even the simplest chemical combination will ever admit of\nmechanical explanation; much less the properties of light, heat, and\nelectricity. These will always require a dynamical explanation._\n\n_If we can ferret out the ultimate nature of our own minds we shall\nperhaps have the key to the external world._\n\n_Let us say, then, that repulsion and attraction, combination and\ndecomposition, magnetism and electricity, gravity and crystallization,\nare Will._\n\n_Will, then, is the essence of man. Now what if it is also the\nessence of life in all its forms, and even of \"inanimate\" matter?\nWhat if Will is the long-sought-for, the long-despaired-of, \"the\nthing-in-itself\"--the ultimate inner reality and secret essence of all\nthings?_\n\nBuckmaster perceived that these men were catching glimpses of something\nwhich they called Will, Order, Thing, Absolute, and other names but\nwhich were all very probably the same thing--and also that which he\nsought. Eagerly he read on.\n\nHis next clue came from Bergson: _Thought may begin with its object,\nand at last, in consistency, be driven, by the apparent necessities of\nlogic, to conceive all things as forms and creatures of mind_.\n\nQuickly he passed on to Spinoza where he found a wealth of food for\nthought. _Is the body merely an idea?_\n\n_Is all the mentality that is scattered over space and time, a diffused\nconsciousness that animates the world?_\n\n_There is but one entity, seen now inwardly as mind, now outwardly as\nmatter, but in reality an inextricable mixture and unity of both._\n\n_Eternal order ... that betokens the very structure of existence,\nunderlying all events and things, and constituting the essence of the\nworld._\n\n_Substance is insubstantial, that it is form and not matter, that it\nhad nothing to do with that mongrel and neuter composite of matter._\n\nBruno said: _All reality is one in substance, one in cause, one in\norigin; mind and matter are one._\n\nDescartes' conception of a homogeneous \"substance\" underlying all forms\nof matter intrigued him for a time, and he wrestled mentally with the\nclassic quotation, _I think, therefore I am_.\n\nBerkeley wrote: _A \"thing\" is merely a bundle of perceptions--i. e.,\nclassified and interpreted sensations_.\n\nHegel: _The Absolute, transcending the individual limitations and\npurposes, and catching, underneath the universal strife, the hidden\nharmony of all things. Reason is the substance of the universe._\n\nLeibniz: _Although the whole of this life were said to be nothing but a\ndream, and the visible world nothing but a phantasm, I should call this\ndream or phantasm real enough, if, using reason well, we were never\ndeceived by it_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor a time Buckmaster left the philosophers and read poetry. He found\ngerms of what he sought in some of them, as Goethe's, _The force which\ndraws the lover, and the force which draws the planets are one_.\n\nHe found it beautifully in a stanza of Wordsworth's.\n\n            _Something\n    Whose dwelling is the light of the setting suns,\n    And the round ocean, and the living air,_\n\n    _And the blue sky, and the mind of man;--\n    A motion and a spirit, all objects of all thought,\n    And rolls through all things._\n\nIn the main, however, he found in the poets that the grains of wheat\nwere too few amidst the chaff and returned to philosophy.\n\nMost of these excerpts, he felt, were clues to the enigma of himself.\nHe knew that these great minds had touched on the very mystery that\npuzzled him. Once again he felt on the verge of _understanding_. Did he\nhave all the pieces? Could he fit them into the pattern, if he but knew\nhow? Or must he need to learn more?\n\nSuddenly he found the explanation in a book of essays by, the\nincongruity of it struck him as ironical, an anonymous writer. He read:\n\n_For a time, during the middle ages, the theory that all the world, and\neven the universe, were figments of one giant imagination, swayed the\nthinkers of the world. The intellect in which this imagination centered\nwas focused in one man, and one man only, in the whole of existence.\nThat man was the one man who \"thought.\" All other men, all other\nmatter, were but imagined props with no actual existence. That man is\nthe one who \"thinks!\" \"You\"--and only \"you,\" the person who is reading\nthis--in the whole world. It does not matter what your name might be.\nIt might be...._\n\nClifford Buckmaster knew then the mystery of life, who he was, and\nwhy. He no longer concentrated, but his eyes read on: _At first\nglance it would seem that there is a concerted conspiracy to avoid\nacknowledging this fact. Learned men, acquiring wisdom, come to the\nbrink of the great discovery, and then deftly skirt it, blinding\nthemselves to its evidentness. However, on second thought the reason\nis obvious. The theory is anarchistic; it carries the seeds of its own\nfutility. If they were ever to admit the truth of it, all reason for\neverything--their very discovery, their very thoughts--would be futile.\nSo they refuse to recognize it._\n\n_Your obvious question is, How can I tell you this? Who am I--the\nwriter of this essay? The answer is quite simple. I am merely a figment\nof your imagination, as is everything else about you!_\n\nAt last he knew. His first sensation was one of awful, empty solitude.\nHe was one creature--alone. Alone in a universe!\n\nHe was an entity living in a dream world. All about him were the\nfigments of an imagination--presumably his own. And even knowing, he\nstill had no control of events--like a dream that cannot be halted or\nchanged. The people about him were automatons, in fact they possessed\nno actual substance. Even his own body was but a figment--but he could\nbe hurt! He had experienced the most acute pain, and very probably he\ncould be killed.\n\nHe had, however, little time to brood on it. At that instant in his\nreflections Gamoll jerked open the library door and walked in.\n\n\"The worst has happened,\" he exclaimed. \"The security police have\ncaught Oliver.\"\n\n\"What can we do?\" Buckmaster still could not regard Gamoll, or Oliver\nand his friends, as nonentities.\n\n\"I hate to say this,\" Gamoll said, \"but you'll have to get out. I may\nbe able to help Oliver escape, but I'll be powerless if they learn that\nI'm connected with the Underground.\"\n\n\"They probably wouldn't hesitate to kill you also,\" Buckmaster said.\n\n\"That wouldn't be too important, if my dying would accomplish\nanything,\" Gamoll said. \"But the Underground's only hope seems to be my\nkeeping clear.\"\n\nSlowly, almost unobtrusively, a vision rose up before Buckmaster's\neyes. Gamoll's features clouded, became vague, and were gone. In his\nplace stood the General. In the General's hand was a bottle, and before\nhim a wooden frame, holding a metal box with its lid open. Buckmaster\nrealized that what he was seeing was happening in some other part\nof the building. He could see cement walls in the room in which the\nGeneral stood. Probably the basement, he thought.\n\nWithin him the Force commanded! He must get to the General, and kill\nhim. The world was on the brink of disaster. And time was running out.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGradually the whole composite vision vanished and he saw the handsome\nfeatures of Gamoll again. He knew what he had to do now.\n\n\"I'm leaving immediately,\" he said.\n\nClosing the library door behind him he walked unhesitatingly down a\nlong hallway. To either side of him, painted on the walls, were murals,\ndepicting peasants in the fields, harvesting grain. Idly he observed\nthe painted figures as he walked, with his brain chilled and numbed of\nalmost all emotion. The painted figures possessed as much reality as\nanything else about him, he thought disinterestedly.\n\nHe walked down steps and across an inner courtyard, his legs moving\nstiffly, lifelessly.\n\nHe continued up the steps on the far side of the courtyard, his mind\nshutting out everything around him except the door ahead. When he\nreached there he stopped. Here, he knew, he was at the crossroads. He\ncould move straight ahead through the door, or he could walk around the\nhouse and enter the basement through the back. That was the longer way,\nbut probably the safer. And the Force urged the second choice.\n\nA mood of black frustration swept over him and some perverse\nstubbornness of his human nature rebelled at this supine abnegation. He\nknew that he was going to die, and his one last defiant act would be to\ndie in a way of his own choosing. He walked straight ahead.\n\nAs he opened the door and stepped into a long green-carpeted room he\nfound himself facing three guards. They held guns and the guns were all\naimed at him.\n\nEven before he observed that the guards were firing, he felt the\nkilling slugs enter his body. He knew the bullets had reached vital\norgans and that he was about to die. Within him he felt the Force,\nangry and rebuking.\n\nHe felt a wrench at the core of his body structure--and he was\nwalking--walking--endlessly--down a long corridor. On the walls to\neither side of him were the figures of harvesters painted on yellow\nmurals. His body was alive and vital. He walked on, through a doorway\nand out into a courtyard before he realized what had happened. The\nForce had turned time backward! He was once more on his way to shoot\nKoski. He was exactly the same as he had been the last time but with\nthe addition of his memories of having been shot. And the silent\nwarning that came to him never to expect another second chance. That\ncould not be repeated.\n\nThis time when he came to the fatal door there was no surge of\nrebellion and he did not hesitate. He walked around the house until he\ncame to the basement entrance. Cement steps led downward. Two guards\nwere waiting for him there. One guard fell as Buckmaster fired, but he\nknew with a terrible certainty that he would not be able to kill the\nother in time to save himself.\n\nThe guard's bullet crashed into Buckmaster's diaphragm and his body\njerked once but it did not stop its determined pacing forward.\nBuckmaster fired again but even as he did he felt a second bullet enter\nhis body. It pierced his heart and he knew that he was dead. With\ndimming vision he watched the guard fall over on his side as his own\nbullet found its mark.\n\nEven as Buckmaster realized that the bitter fever of life was over for\nhim he knew that his body would not stop. Without any directive from\nthe brain it was using the last of the suspended energy in its blood\nand muscles to walk forward, driving with an awful exertion.\n\nOn he walked into the cement lined room. The General stood there,\noblivious to the noise about him. The hair on the crown of his head\nparted violently as the bullet from the gun in Buckmaster's hand hit\nits mark.\n\nThe gun became a weight too heavy for Buckmaster's lifeless fingers\nand dropped to the floor. The last spark of life flickered for a brief\nmoment where it had fled in some inner recess of his brain and he felt\nthe Force for the last time. Two words it spoke. \"Well done,\" and he\nknew that at last his job was finished. Now he would return home!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBuckmaster had reasoned well, considering his natural limitations.\nBut the truth he had discovered was, like most truths, only part of a\ngreater truth.\n\nIn the far reaches of infinity, beyond the outermost boundaries of\nspace, a thought-voice spoke. \"Am I going to die?\" it asked.\n\n\"Not now,\" a second entity answered. \"The crisis is past.\"\n\n\"Will the sickness come again?\"\n\n\"Not this particular form of malevolent psychosis,\" the second entity\nreplied. \"But perhaps you had better tell me all the facts you know so\nthat I can advise you about the future.\"\n\n\"My project, I still believe, was magnificent,\" the sick entity began.\n\"From the energy of my essence I materialized a world of infinitesimal\ncreatures. I gave them time and space, and built a background of a\nuniverse for their wonderment and speculation. They dwelt on their\nworld, lived their lives, and made their tiny, though admirable,\nadvances as they saw their destiny. And then, suddenly, when all seemed\nbeautiful, something went wrong, and I was ill unto death. What did I\ndo that was not right?\"\n\n\"I believe you made your mistake when you gave your creatures\nfree will. They developed their malignancies, as well as their\nadmirabilities. When they developed a malignancy of such virulence\nthat they were in a position to destroy themselves, you made yourself\nvulnerable to death, through them. The shock of that devastation to you\nwould have killed you. Tell me, were your creatures aware that they\nwere figments of your mind?\"\n\n\"Some grasped inklings of it, though none were certain. One, a Baruch\nSpinoza, came as close to the truth as it was possible, for their\nfinite minds. He wrote: _We are the flitting forms of a being greater\nthan ourselves, and endless while we die. Our bodies are cells in the\nbody of the race, our race is an incident in the drama of life; our\nminds are the fitful flashes of an eternal light. Our mind, in so far\nas it understands, is an eternal mode of thinking, which is determined\nby another mode of thinking, and this one again by another, and so on\nto infinity._ That was magnificent. While others who caught inklings of\nthe truth believed that I was an ultimate being, he realized that I,\ntoo, had an ultimate being whom I worshipped.\"\n\n\"Also, if he had been able to perceive how close you were to death,\"\nthe second entity said, \"he would have realized that you were mortal,\nwhich no ultimate being can be.\"\n\n\"How were you able to circumvent the disaster that so nearly befell me?\"\n\n\"I sent a segment of my own mentality into your conceived world. I gave\nit a name, implanted a memory of a past into its mind, and that same\nmemory into the minds of those creatures with whom it was supposed to\nhave come into contact, in its past. Through that segment I was able to\ndestroy the awful potentiality, as well as the creature who controlled\nit. The secret now rests with the dead.\"\n\n\"Is there any chance of a similar recurrence?\"\n\n\"That chance will always exist as long as you persist in allowing your\ncreatures to have free will. I would advise you to destroy it.\"\n\nFor a time the patient was silent. \"No,\" it said finally, \"without that\nfree will their existence and my entire project would be futile. I will\nlet the free will remain and bear any consequences.\"\n\n\"That, of course, is your own choosing,\" the other said.\n\nAnd so man kept his greatest possession.","title":"Infinity's Child","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":10682}