Psychoshop

by Alfred Bester

  The dark shape gone, I rose again. Eryx approached, arms outstretched, and was almost upon me.

  At the last possible instant I teleported eighteen inches to my left, turning as I did, so that I was able to deliver a stunning blow to the back of his neck as he went by. Glancing back, I saw nothing.

  “No more do my shaftes fly

  To slay. Nothing is now clean slayne

  But rotteth away.”

  I walked past the heaped bodies toward the front. As I approached, Glory asked, “His clones? How could they be his clones? You’re the only one they—”

  “His face had been damaged and rebuilt,” I said. “But he and I were brothers. Twins.”

  EIGHT · SINGULAR ENCOUNTER

  I made my way forward then until I stood directly in front

  of Adam.

  “That, Magfaser,” I said, “is why I wanted to talk. It would have saved us both a lot of pain and wasted time. Now I see why you need a nursemaid. You still act like a kid.”

  “Sorry,” he said, “but the circumstantial evidence was strong.”

  I slapped him across the face, hard, and heard Glory gasp.

  He made no move to defend himself. He just nodded and said “Sorry” again.

  I turned to my Alf body, saw that it was still breathing.

  “Today seems to be the day when everything happens,” I said. “Tomorrow you’ll be out of business. I wanted my memory today so I could help to make things turn out right.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said.

  “Then let’s not waste any more time. Summon a medical unit and get yourself put back together. Then there will be a lot of things I’ll need to know.”

  “All right,” he said, pushing himself erect and moving toward a work station.

  Glory came up beside me and took hold of my hand.

  “Sssss,” she said.

  “Sss-ss,” I replied.

  “Dammy does not look well.”

  “I used up several bodies myself,” I said. “Listen, Adam kidnapped what was left of the human race, not to mention all the other races who’d decided to try Haven. Why’d he steal the box, Glory? Another misunderstanding?”

  “No,” she said. “It was their source of power he wanted—that singularity which we knew would be the last one to blow before the Big Crunch occurs.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The effects have all been calculated for ages. He has been filling the cornucopia. And if he takes everything forward and leaves things just as he found them, a second after he removed them, the equations will remain undisturbed.”

  “But the boxful of downloaded people, the Haveners— all of them banking on living a subjective infinity of time-spurts, there on the brink of chaos—why did he take them, too?”

  “To maintain their calculated dose of Hawking radiation and keep the equations pure. They’re down in the Hellhole, standing in the same relationship to the singularity as they were when he collected them. It’s a simple two-body problem.”

  “So he really means to return them?”

  “Of course! He only borrowed them. He is too neat to interfere with the orderly destruction of the universe.”

  “He ‘borrowed’ them for the better part of three millennia?”

  “Or for one second, depending on how you look at these things.”

  “I’m missing something. I’m still missing something,” I said. “Like, why did he want to borrow the Haveners’ singularity, open this place, and run it through the development of Western civilization up until now?”

  “Oh, he deals with Easterners, too. You must remember—”

  “All right! Conceded! Why? Why?”

  “He has accumulated models of all forms of behavior, as well as considerable other information.”

  “So?”

  “He wants the singularity ridden through explosion to Strominger’s remnanthood. If a black hole explodes, any information it has taken in is lost to its universe, but Strominger says that the information is preserved in the black hole’s horn-shaped remnant in compressed form. Adam plans to return the singularity to the point where he found it, send it forward toward the Crunch till the heavy Hawking radiation from the last black hole produces the explosion, then see it depart the universe before the collapse.”

  “It could never return.”

  “Not to this universe, but it could be directed to its successor. Theory permits its information to be available in that universe—which would become parallel to this—and the information would provide for the development of the anthropic principle.”

  “Granting he could smuggle information past the Crunch and the Bang, he couldn’t do it, Glory. Anything material would be destroyed.”

  “Of course. That is why he was waiting for someone to come along with the design for an infinitely adaptable creature that is both more and less than matter, why he threw himself so wholeheartedly into the collection of the 666 ingredients.”

  “The Dominoid!”

  “Yes, he wants it for the demiurge of our next neighbor universe, driving his cornucopion full of goodies into its earliest history.”

  “Preposterous. Nothing comes out of a singularity in any condition to discuss information theory.”

  “He finesses the Crunch and the Bang singularities. Never enters them, never departs. The real trick is for it all to achieve the Strominger Effect and preserve the information. Ultimately, the Dominoid will have to absorb everything here into itself. It is actually to become the cornucopion. And there is evidence it has been done before. In fact, the act may pretty much be necessary for a universe where the anthropic principle obtains.”

  The entire while we were talking, the healing unit hummed as Adam’s manipulated jawbone remineralized. Another extensor from the unit had reshaped its terminus to flow across his ribs.

  “Well, the Buoco Nero closes today,” I said. “You know what that means.”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  We both turned toward the doorway and moments later it opened. Prandy entered, surveyed the scene, and announced, “Count Cagliostro is here to make a delivery. He asks permission to enter the Hellhole with it.”

  I looked immediately to Adam, but he was in no condition to speak, to nod, or to shake his head. He gestured for us to approach, and when we did he growled, “Send him in.”

  “Adam,” I said, “if you had the android body could you do the assembly without Cagliostro’s help?”

  He seemed to reflect, began several answers which proved too complicated, made a twisted face, then repeated, “Send him in.”

  Glory nodded, turned toward Prandy, and repeated the words.

  Prandy held the door wide, and Cagliostro—in his big, red, Mephistophelean mode—entered the Hellhole, grinning nastily, a body bag slung over his shoulder. “Well, well, well,” he observed, “this looks like the last chapter of a histoire etrange here—or the first.”

  Advancing, he deposited the bag at Adam’s feet. “Here’s the host, M’sieur. Are you ready to proceed?” he asked.

  “Will be. Soon,” Adam managed.

  Prandy moved to Adam’s side, took his hand. “What happened?” she inquired.

  “Later,” Adam said.

  I moved forward and stood beside Cagliostro. “Unpack it, and I can help get things ready while we’re waiting,” I said.

  “Good idea,” he replied, leaning forward and unfastening the bag, working it downward on the android. It was possessed only of feature buds, was hairless, sexless, and very cool to touch, its skin translucent to the point where it seemed almost to glow. Faint outlines of internal structures were visible within it.

  “Let’s move it down to the adding field and I’ll set it up,” I said. “I could also bring up some of the ingredients, but I’ve a feeling there’s a special order to their installation.”

  “That’s right.”

  We both took hold of the body and I led the way. It was surprisingly light. I laid it down
in the field in an easy-access position. A small stream of blood seemed to be flowing down the center of the tunnel toward the rear.

  Adam removed himself from the healing unit and came over. There was a certain puffiness to his face, indicating that he should have waited longer. “Let’s be quick about it,” he said.

  “Oui,” Cagliostro replied, rubbing his hands together. When he drew them apart they held a parchment scroll between them which he unwound for several inches. “We begin with the peripherals,” he stated.

  “All right,” Adam said. “I’ll assist. Read ahead on the list and the others can fetch ingredients and have them ready for us as we need them.”

  Deep-voiced, Cagliostro began to read—or rather intone—the first part of his catalog. Glory, Prandy, and I began to scavenge, bringing back the factors that would produce the Beast. Some were ready and easy to locate; others, Adam had not had opportunity to assemble in one place.

  Nothing occurred at first as Adam and Cagliostro went about their business using the adding field to install qualities in the Dominoid. Several dozen were actually added to its makeup before its color grew brighter and its fingers twitched. As the process advanced, the feature buds took on firmer resolution. Suddenly there were eyes, albeit closed. The small, central facial bump had grown into a large, somewhat flattish nose. The mouth was no longer a thin crease below it.

  We continued. After a time the chest heaved and the hands clenched and unclenched. Cagliostro’s voice called for more ingredients and we scrambled to furnish them.

  “I’m not sure I like this thing,” Prandy said.

  Flames climbed the nearer wall and faded, to be succeeded by wheeling galaxies. The Dominoid seemed to have gained additional length and brightness. Its eyelids fluttered for a moment but did not open.

  Tiny bat-winged creatures swooped by. I heard the call of an owl. A gentle rain, like molten gold, began to fall across the starry prospect. Glory passed more ingredients to Adam. I gave the next batch to Cagliostro. Cagliostro unrolled the scroll further and read off more items. Prandy brought him several. The Dominoid made a small, whimpering sound. A beat like a roll of thunder passed down the Hellhole.

  Time was without meaning as we fetched and delivered. I had no idea how many of his needed qualities the Dominoid had acquired. “Now, the Library of Congress,” Cagliostro ordered, and this was done. The Dominoid groaned, and Cagliostro halted the procedure to inspect it. Satisfied, he read off another series of items.

  The eyes opened for a moment—a blazing blue—and were squeezed shut immediately to the accompaniment of an inhuman shriek. Liquid and bright, like metal in a crucible, its skin seemed almost to be flowing.

  It groaned again and tried to sit up. Adam and Cagliostro continued their work. Steam began to rise from the surface of its body. After a while tiny charges of static electricity danced across its torso, among its toes.

  “How far along are we?” I finally asked.

  “Almost finished,” Cagliostro said. “Soon. Soon.”

  The Dominoid succeeded in sitting up, tried to rise to its feet. Cagliostro pushed it back down. Its eyes opened suddenly, staring into his own. “Out, mon cher,” he purred. “Soon.”

  The Dominoid’s lips moved. “Mother?” it said.

  Cagliostro ‘laughed. “Why not? I am your mama”—he gestured at Adam—“and this one your midwife. These others assist us.”

  The Dominoid reached out with its right hand and stroked Cagliostro’s cheek. “Mother,” he repeated. Then his gaze turned to Adam and he took hold of his hand and squeezed it. “Midwife,” he said.

  Adam smiled. “I am honored,” he stated.

  Cagliostro reached forward and installed the 666th ingredient.

  “Maintenant you are perfect, mon petit,” he said, reaching out and placing his fingertips upon its temples. “Can you see where the main controls to this place are situated?”

  “Of course. Forward and to the right.” It gestured. “I will take you to them.”

  “No. Just do as I do. Place your hands upon my head as mine are upon yours.”

  The Dominoid’s hands moved forward, fingers touching Cagliostro’s temples. They stared into each other’s eyes.

  “No!” Adam cried. “Stop them, Alf! I never thought—”

  I was already moving.

  Still smiling, Cagliostro moved his right hand in a fairly sophisticated gesture which would have brushed many people aside. He was surprised, therefore, to find all of his fingers broken; and he lost his smile as I applied a wristlock which took him over backwards.

  “Alf! Lay off! Prandy! Hit the ground!” Adam called then.

  I drew back and Prandy dropped. Cagliostro continued to roll backwards and came again to his feet. He regained his smile as he did so. “Really—” he began.

  There was a blur in the air and a high-pitched hum as something dark and well-antennaed settled upon his shoulders. There was no scream, though, over the buzzing that ensued. And as Cagliostro’s headless corpse fell to the floor, I heard Gomi’s voice say, “I feel ahead on this deal. Yo ho ho!” Then, with the sound of a closing canister, his grotesque shadow flashed away and was gone.

  “Sometimes your timing is quite good,” I said to Adam.

  “Can’t lose them all,” he replied.

  Then the Dominoid stood up, still glowing and steaming, still flickering and flashing in places. Its lips had moved into a small smile. “Too late, mes amis. Too late,” it said, and it began to move toward the rear of the Hellhole.

  “Well, maybe you can,” Adam amended, leaping into its path.

  There was a brief encounter, masked from me by the creature’s back, and Adam was cast off to the left, slamming against the wall. “I anticipate you,” the creature remarked. “Could it be otherwise?” It continued on its way toward the rear.

  “Alf!” Adam yelled. “Get it into the stripping field if you can!”

  I bounded forward, leaped so as to strike the right-hand wall feet-first, continued on to the ceiling to arrive upside down above the Dominoid, one hand taking hold of it beneath the chin, the other upon the top of its head. I tried snapping its neck to its right. With a standard model human the neck anatomy is such that successful resistance in that plane would make it vulnerable for a front-to-rear break— and vice-versa. But it did not resist. It received my maneuver with a range of movement exceeding the human. A greater plasticity allowed for it to follow the full extent of my attack without suffering any damage.

  Its hands moved upward and took hold of my wrists. As I was facing the front of the Hellhole, I immediately pushed off and dropped down, arriving on my feet behind it, my turning movement raising its hands to shoulder height. I freed my left wrist with a twisting movement, placed it atop its right hand, which still had hold of my right wrist, and tried to bring it back over its shoulder and down for a takedown. But it turned slightly toward me with a backward movement of its right foot, lowered itself slightly, and stepped forward again, spinning me past its right side to face it. Its wrist should have given way as I was propelled about it, but again that plasticity preserved it, as I felt it loosen and stretch within my grip.

  My right foot was against its abdomen as soon as it was within range, and I kept turning, keeping the tension on its arm, pushing with my foot, and dropping to the floor to my left. Its balance broke and it shot forward above me.

  We recovered our footing simultaneously, and I heard Cagliostro’s laugh emerge from the lips of the Dominoid. “Alf! You are a colosodian! C’est magnifique!” he said. “No one else could have done that! You have granted me a longtime wish to see one of you in action!”

  I was already attacking by then, this time with techniques designed to dismantle robots. “But this must not continue,” he said, and his shimmering, creamy color, touched with gold, was muted.

  My first blow passed completely through him, as if he were made of smoke. So did a rapid sequence with which I followed it. He turned away then, saying,
“I must be about my business.”

  “And what might that be?” I inquired, following him along the claw marks past the heaped clones.

  He halted in advance of them, faced the right-hand wall, extended both hands, and, like a parting of curtains, opened a section of space. An elaborate control panel hung before him. “Ask Adam,” he said.

  I turned toward Adam, who had also opened a compartment in seeming nothingness and withdrawn a thirty-inch tube with a bore like a bazooka. He held it at his right side and gestured with his head for me to move out of the way.

  I did, and Adam triggered the thing.

  The Dominoid, just leaning toward the controls, halted and stiffened. Its outline wavered, blurred, as it began to vibrate. A humming from the weapon rose to a wailing. The tableau held for several seconds, then its outline grew more stable. Adam immediately touched a control on the weapon’s side and the Dominoid blurred again, a great gust of steam rising from it.

  … And again the shining being stabilized, its form growing clearer. Adam touched the control several times in rapid succession. The pitch of the wailing rose and fell, but that was all that changed. The outline became totally crisp as Cagliostro’s voice came again: “Too late. I can vibrate in any fashion it can, and I can respond immediately now. Put it away, Adam, unless you have nothing better to do.”

  Adam licked his lips, tossed it back into the niche, and sealed it inside as I came up next to him.

  “What’s the big deal?” I said softly. “He’s going to do what you want done anyway now, isn’t he?”

  Adam nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Yes and no,” he replied.

  Prandy came up and rubbed his shoulders. Glory was at my side.

  “It never occurred to me that Cagliostro might transfer his consciousness to the Dominoid,” he said. “It was still in a sufficiently disorganized state that he was able to move in and dominate it completely.”