R.W. III - The Dark Design

by Philip José Farmer

  "Spruce replied that he should add two thousand years.

  "Monat then said that not everyone had been resurrected. There wasn't enough room on this world. It was known that no children who had died before the age of five were here. And though it couldn't be proved, it seemed likely that no imbeciles and idiots had been resurrected here. Nor was anyone who lived after 2008 A.D., with the exception of Spruce here."

  "Where were these people?"

  "Spruce answered that they were elsewhere, and that was all he would say on the subject."

  Monat then asked him how the people of the Earth had been recorded. That is, what device had the Ethicals used to make recordings of our bodies? Since it was obvious that scientific, not supernatural, means were used to resurrect us, that meant that everyone from the Old Stone Age to 2008 A.D. had somehow been observed, the structure of every cell of a person's body recorded, and this recording was stored somewhere to be used later in the recreation of the body.

  Monat said that the recordings must be placed in an energy-matter converter, whereupon the body was duplicated. The effects of injuries, wounds, and diseases that had caused death were cancelled. Amputated limbs and organs were restored. I myself saw some of this regeneration process when I awoke in the preresurrection space. Also, those aged past twenty-five were rejuvenated.

  Monat further speculated that the bodies in the PR bubble were destroyed after the regeneration process was completed. But recordings of the new bodies had been made, and these recordings were used in the final stage, the great resurrection, when all of us appeared together on that never-to-be-forgotten day.

  Monat supposed that the resurrection was accomplished through the metal of the grailstone system. That is, all the stones are connected deep underground to form a circuit of some sort, and the energy is supplied from the hot nickle-iron core of this planet.

  Monat then said, 'The big question is why?' Spruce said, 'If you had it in your power to do all this, would you not think it your ethical duty?

  Monat said that he would think so. But he would bring back to life only those who deserve a second life.

  Spruce became angry then. He replied that Monat was setting himself up as an equal of God. Everybody, no matter how stupid, selfish, petty, brutal, etcetera, must be given another chance to redeem themselves, to make themselves worthy. It would not be done for them; they must, somehow, lift themselves by their own moral bootstraps.

  "Monat asked Spruce how long this process would take. A thousand years? Two? A million?

  "Spruce became angry, and he shouted, 'You will stay here as long as it takes you to be rehabilitated! Then . . .'

  "He paused, glaring at us as if he hated us, and he said, 'Continued contact with you makes even the toughest of us take on your characteristics. We then have to go through a rehabilitation process ourselves. Already, I feel unclean . . .'

  "One of the councillors, wishing to press him, urged that he be put over the fire until he would talk freely.

  "Spruce cried, 'No, you won't! I should have done this long ago! Who knows what . . .' "

  Burton paused dramatically.

  "Then Spruce fell dead!"

  There were gasps, and someone said, "Mein Gott!"

  "Yes, but that isn't the end of the story. Spruce's body was taken away for dissection. It seemed too coincidental that he should have had a heart attack. Not only was it too convenient for him, it was unheard of.

  "While he was being dissected, we discussed what happened. Some thought that he was lying to us. Or, at least, only giving us half-truths. We did agree on one thing. That was that there were people in this Valley who were agents of the Ethicals or perhaps the Ethicals themselves. These did not bear the mark on their foreheads.

  "But it seemed likely that we would not be able to distinguish them anymore by using Kazz's peculiar visual powers. Spruce would be resurrected wherever their headquarters was. He would report to the others that we now knew about the symbols. And of course they would put the mark on their agents."

  "This would take time, and in the meantime Kazz might detect others. But this has not happened. Neither he nor Besst has seen anybody unmarked. Again, of course, this does not mean too much. They have to get a close look under certain conditions to see the mark."

  "Three hours later, the surgeon reported to us. There was nothing remarkable about Spruce. Nothing to distinguish him from, other members of Homo sapiens."

  Once more, Burton paused.

  "Except for one small item! This was a very tiny black sphere! The doctor had found it on the surface of Spruce's forebrain. It was attached to the cerebral nerves by extremely thin wires. This led us to conclude that Spruce had literally thought, or wished, himself to die."

  "Somehow, the sphere interacted with his mental processes in such a manner that he could think himself dead. Perhaps he thought of a certain code sequence, and this released a poison into his system. The doctor could find no evidence of this, but then he lacked the necessary chemical means to make an accurate analysis."

  "In any event, Spruce's body showed no damage. Something had stopped his heart, but the doctor did not know what that was.''

  A woman said, "Then there could be such people among us? Now, here, in this group?"

  Burton nodded, and everybody started talking at once. After fifteen minutes of this babel, he stood up and indicated to his crew that it was time to go to bed. On the way to the cutter, Kazz drew him aside.

  "Burton-naq, when you mentioned you and Monat were hypnotists . . . well, that made me think about something. I've never thought about it before . . . maybe there's nothing funny about it . . . only . . ."

  "Well?"

  "It's nothing, I'm sure. Only it was funny. You see, I told Spruce I could see he didn't have no sign on his head. He left a few minutes later, but I could smell the fear in his sweat. There were others there, all eating breakfast, Targoff, Doctor Steinborg, Monat, Pete, and a number of others. Targoff said we should convene the council, though this was some time after Spruce had taken off. Monat and Pete agreed. But they said they wanted to question me a little more. You know, what the marks looked like. Were they all alike or did they differ?"

  "I said they differed. A lot of them were. . . what you say? . . . similar, yes, that's it. But each one . . . what the hell, you know what they look like, I've drawn pictures of them for you."

  Burton said, "Aside from some looking something like Chinese ideograms, they resemble nothing I've ever seen. My guess is that they're symbols of a numbering system."

  "Yeah, I know what you said. The thing is, Monat and Frigate took me aside before we went to your place to tell you what'd happened. In fact, we went to Monat's hut."

  Kazz paused. Impatiently Burton said, "Well?"

  "I'm trying to remember. But I can't. I went into the hut, and that's all!"

  "What do you mean, that's all?"

  "Burton-naq, I mean that's all. I don't remember a thing about going into that hut. I remember starting through the door. The next I remember is walking with Monat, Pete, and the other councillors to your hut!"

  Burton felt a slight shock, yet he had no idea what had caused it.

  "You mean that you don't remember anything from the time you entered until the time you walked out?"

  "I mean that I don't remember walking out. All of a sudden, there I was, a hundred paces from Monat's house and walking along, talking to Monat."

  Burton frowned. Alice and Besst were standing on the dock, looking back as if wondering why they had dropped behind.

  "This is most peculiar, Kazz. Why haven't you told me about this before? After all, it's been many years since it happened. Didn't you think about this before?"

  "No, I didn't. Ain't that funny? Not one frigging thought. I still wouldn't remember even entering the hut if Loghu hadn't said something about it the other day. She saw me go in, but she wasn't with the group that day and so didn't know what was going on until later.

  "What happe
ned was that she was standing in the doorway of her and Frigate's hut. Frigate, Monat, and me was going to go into Frigate's hut. When they found she was there, they went to Monat's. It was just by chance that she mentioned this yesterday. We was talking about when we was grail slaves, and this brought up Spruce. That's when she asked me what Monat, Pete, and me was talking about. She said she wondered sometimes why they wanted to talk to me in private.

  "She just never brought it up before because it didn't seem important. It still wasn't, but she was curious, and since the subject was brought up, she remembered to ask me. You know how curious women are."

  "Women have the curiosity of cats," Burton said, and he chuckled. "Whereas men are as curious as monkeys." "What? What does that mean?"

  "I don't know, but it sounds deep. I'll think up an explanation later. So, it was Loghu's remarks that made you remember the events preceding and following your entry into Monat's place?" "Not right away, Burton-naq. I got to puzzling about what she said. I really strained my brain. I could hear the tissues ripping. Finally, I could remember, in a dim way, how we meant to go into Pete's hut. Then I could remember Loghu being there and Monat saying they'd use his hut. And after a while . . . I could faintly recollect going into there.

  "While you was talking didn't you notice me sitting there by the fire, frowning away like there was a thunderstorm on my brow?"

  "I just thought you'd taken too much to eat and drink, as usual.''

  "That, too. But it wasn't no farts storming around inside me. It was gas on the brain."

  "Since you've recalled this, you haven't said anything to Monat or Frigate about it?"

  "No."

  "Don't, then."

  Kazz had a low forehead, but he was not unintelligent.

  "You think there's something phony about those two?"

  Burton said, "I don't know. I'd hate to think so. After all these years . . . and they are good friends. At least . . ."

  "It don't seem possible," Kazz said. He sounded as if his heart were about to break.

  "What doesn't?"

  "I don't know what. But it has to be something bad."

  "I don't know that," Burton said. "There may be a very good explanation other than the one I'm thinking of. Anyway, don't mention this to anyone."

  "I won't. Only . . . listen, those two do have symbols on their heads. They always had them. So, if them agents didn't have them at one time, Pete and Monat couldn't be agents!"

  Burton smiled. Kazz's thoughts were his. Nevertheless, he had to look into this. How could he do it without putting the two on guard? Of course, they might have nothing to hide.

  "Yes, I know. Don't forget that Besst has also seen their symbols. So we have double confirmation, not that we need it.

  "In any course, mum's the word until I say otherwise."

  They started to walk toward the Snark. Kazz said, "I don't know. I sure have a bad feeling about this. Wish I'd kept my mouth shut. Loghu would say something about it."

  Chapter 25

  * * *

  Burton paced back and forth on the deck in the fog. Though his body was warm in the cloths, his face was chilled. An unusually cold body of air had moved into the area, and as a result the mists were piled halfway up the mast. He could not see beyond his outstretched arms.

  As far as he knew, everybody aboard except himself was asleep. His only company were his thoughts. These tended to stray as if they were sheep on a hillside. Burton had to work hard to bring them back, arrange them in an orderly band, keep them moving toward pasture. And what was pasture? Bitter eating.

  There were thirty-three years to cover in his memory. It was a selective process, one which concentrated on Monat and Frigate. What actions, what words of theirs were suspicious? What could be fitted into a dark jigsaw puzzle?

  There were very few people available. There might be more, but he could be looking at them and not even realize that they were pieces.

  That terrible, joyous day, the day that he had awakened from the dead, he had met the Arcturan first of all. Of all those he had encountered that day, Monat had acted most calmly and rationally. He had taken stock of the situation amazingly fast, checked out the environment, and immediately understood the purpose of the grails.

  The second person Burton had especially noticed was the Neanderthal, Kazz. He, however, had not tried to talk to Burton at first. He had merely followed him for a while. Peter Frigate had been the second person to talk to Burton. And, now that Burton considered it, Frigate had been rather easy and casual in manner. This was strange in view of Frigate's claim that he suffered from anxiety and hysteria.

  Later events had seemed to confirm this. However, from time to time, and consistently in the past twenty years, Frigate had overcome his faults. Had he really attained self-mastery or had he just abandoned a role, ceased to play-act?

  Certainly, it had been quite a coincidence that the second person Burton met had written a biography of him. How many biographers of his existed? Ten or twelve? What were the probabilities that one of them would be resurrected only a few meters from him? Twelve in thirty-six billion.

  Still, it was within the realm of chance; it was not impossible.

  Then Kazz had joined those who'd collected around Burton. Then Alice. Then Lev Ruach.

  Today, while Kazz had been helmsman, Burton had stood by him and questioned him. Had Kazz talked to Monat and Frigate during Resurrection Day when Burton had not been around? Did he remember anything that was suspicious about them?

  Kazz had shaken his thickly boned head. "I was with them several times when you were not in sight. But I don't remember nothing strange about them. That is, Burton-naq, there was nothing stranger than strange. Everything was strange that day."

  "Did you notice the marks on people's foreheads that day?"

  "Yes, a few. That was when the sun was highest."

  "What about Monat and Frigate?"

  "I don't remember seeing any on theirs that day. But then I don't remember seeing one on you, either. The light had to reflect at a certain angle."

  Burton had taken out of his shoulderbag a pad of bamboo paper, a sharply pointed fish bone, and wooden bottle of ink. He took over the wheel while Kazz drew the marks he saw on the foreheads of the Arcturan and the American. Both were three parallel horizontal lines crossed by three parallel vertical lines juxtaposed to a cross enclosed in a circle. The lines were of even thickness and length except at the ends. Monat's lines broadened at the right; Frigate's, at the left.

  "What about the sign on my forehead?" Burton had said.

  Kazz showed him four wavy parallel horizontal lines next to a symbol like an ampersand (&). Below it was a short, thin, straight horizontal line.

  "Mortal's and Pete's are remarkably alike," Burton said.

  At Burton's request, Kazz then drew the symbols on the foreheads of everyone of the crew. Not one resembled any other.

  "Do you remember Lev Ruach's?"

  Kazz nodded, and a moment later he handed Burton the drawing. He felt disappointed, though he had no conscious reason to be so. Ruach's symbol was not at all like his prime suspects'.

  Now, walking on the deck, Burton wondered why he had expected it to be similar to the other two. Something tickled the back of his brain, some suspicion he could not scratch. There was a linkage among the three, but it slipped away just as he was about to grasp it.

  He had done enough thinking. Now for action.

  A white bundle lying against the cabin was the Neanderthal, wrapped in cloths. Guiding himself by the fellow's snoring, Burton went to him and shook him. Kazz, snorting, woke up at once.

  "Time?"

  "Time."

  First, though, Kazz had to piss over the railing. Burton lit a fish-oil lantern, and they walked down the gangplank onto the dock. From there they moved slowly onto the plain, their destination an empty hut about two hundred paces away. They missed it, but after circling around, they found it. After they had entered, Burton shut the door.
A bundle of logs and shavings had been placed in the stone hearth that evening by Kazz. In a minute, a small fire was blazing. Kazz sat down on a bamboo wickerwork chair near the fire. He coughed as he breathed smoke which had escaped the feeble draught of the chimney.

  It was easy to place Kazz into a hypnotic trance. He had been one of Burton's subjects for years when Burton entertained locals by displaying his powers as a mesmerist.

  Now that Burton thought about it, Monat and Frigate had always been present at these times. Had they been nervous then? If they had, they had successfully concealed it.

  Burton took Kazz straight back to the time when he had mentioned to the breakfasting group that Spruce had no mark. Working forward, he took him then to the point where the Neanderthal had gone into Monat's hut. Here he encountered first resistance.

  "Are you now in the hut?"

  Kazz, staring straight ahead, his eyes seemingly turned inward upon the past, said, "I am in the doorway."

  "Go on in, Kazz."

  The fellow shook with effort.

  "I can't, Burton-naq."

  "Why not?"

  "I do not know."

  "Is there something you fear in the hut?"

  "I don't know."

  "Has anyone told you that there is something bad in the hut?"

  "No."

  "Then you have nothing to fear. Kazz, you are a brave man, aren't you?"

  "You know I am, Burton-naq."

  "Why can't you go on in then?"

  Kazz shook his head. "I don't know. Something . . ."

  "Something what?"

  "Something . . . tells me . . . tells me . . . can't remember."

  Burton bit his lower lip. The flaming wood cracked and hissed.

  "Who tells you? Monat? Frigate?"

  "Don't know."

  "Think!"

  Kazz's forehead wrinkled. Sweat poured down it.

  The firewood crackled again. Hearing it, Burton smiled.

  "Kazz!"

  "Yes."

  "Kazz! Besst is in the hut, and she's screaming! Can you hear her screaming?"

  Kazz straightened up and looked from side to side, his eyes wide open, his nostrils distended, his lips drawn back.