The Boy Who Would Live Forever

by Frederik Pohl

  Stan didn’t know at all. He was wondering whether he really wanted to be part of this nut case’s therapy, and wondering even more urgently why the nut case was allowed out without an armed guard, when Estrella spoke up. “So they gave you this ship just to make you better?” she asked.

  Achiever flapped his fingers indecisively. “That reason, yes. Other reason also exists, which is to permit the two of you to inspect other planets as proposed by simulated Earth person Sigfrid von Shrink who have liking for you two, you see.”

  “Huh,” Stan said, a little surprised, a little embarrassed. Estrella asked, “Did he pick out the itinerary, too?”

  “Did indeed,” Achiever told her. “You wish to know names of planets we visit? I take pleasure in telling you. Are five of same. Number one is Extremely Wet Planet in Binary Yellow-White System, where will visit persons including some of your ethnicity. Number two is Small but Dense Planet of Bright Yellow Star Eighty-Three, where will also visit same-ethnicity persons. Number three—”

  But Number three meant no more to Stan than the other two. When Achiever had run through the entire list of five he knew no more than he had before. What he did know was that he had become hungry, and when he told Achiever that Achiever was hospitable. “To be sure! Eat now, all three of us, and can continue conversation over meal as is appropriate behavior.”

  Estrella hung back. “Shouldn’t you be flying the ship?”

  “I? Not at all. Some person, for purpose of supervising actual flying, yes, but not at this time. Wait. On way to place where eating is to occur we will pause to peek toward operating carrel where what you call ‘flying’ occurs. This way. Then this. Now this, and now look,” he said, flinging a door open. “‘Flying’ is now being accomplished by junior copilot given to me for training and for my convenience as needed, so that we in fact are already in orbit.”

  And when the person perched before the controls looked up, Stan had just time to think she looked rather familiar before Estrella was crying in his ear, “Salt! Is that really you?”

  It was Salt. She waved to them, amiably but regretfully, as Achiever hustled them along. She couldn’t leave the “operating carrel,” Achiever told them, not because it would make any difference to the flying of the ship—which was all but totally automatic—but because he had ordered it so. “Is quite extremely junior to me,” he told them with a deprecatory shrug, “with only as you would say two years one month experience, so requiring additional training by spacecraft’s commander, who is me.”

  Estrella had a question. “Did the fact that she’s carrying your child have anything to do with this assignment?”

  “Not in the least at all! From my own volition that is so, at any rate. This fact you describe entitles no privileges of any kind for her. Now! Here is feeding room! Let us enjoy excellent meal!”

  This was easy to decree, hard to fulfill. However shiny-new this ship was, it lacked the personalized food-delivery service Marc Antony had accustomed them to. When Estrella made a remark to that effect, as tactfully as she could, Achiever was amused. “Food here is entirely edible in all respects,” he assured them. “So eat!”

  They did. They ate as much of the colorful CHON-food jellies, crunchy loaves and gritty pastes as needed to quench their hunger pangs, but it was without enjoyment. Especially as Achiever chattered on through the meal. “But perhaps I exceed preference for conversing,” he said at last, thin lips demurely pursed to show that he didn’t really mean it.

  “Not at all,” Stan lied. “But I’ve been wondering how long we’ll be traveling.”

  “Oh, not of long duration indeed,” Achiever assured him.

  “All five systems are quite proximate, this being reason same were chosen. So you will not have time to grow displeased with my presence,” he finished, braying his horrible Heechee-trying-to-be-human laugh.

  Neither Stan nor Estrella responded to that, avoiding the necessity of continuing the conversation by claiming fatigue. Achiever showed them to their quarters.

  These also were not up to the standards they had grown used to at the Mica Mountains of Forested Planet. The beds were Heechee litter boxes. The lookplates on the walls were displaying a variety of scenes, some of them quite likely to be of interest to Heechee but wholly meaningless to Estrella and Stan. There were no chairs suitable for human buttocks, either, but Achiever glanced around the room with proprietary pride. “Excellently appointed,” he informed them. “Even your baggage already delivered here by handling apparatus, including last-minute item next to drencher.”

  The box he was indicating was hexagonal, blue and wholly unfamiliar to Stan. He shook his head. “Not ours. All we brought is already there on those chests.”

  “Oh,” Achiever said, scowling heavily, “then must be property belonging to Salt. This will mean negative mark on training record, as I can be sure since I will put it there. Perhaps lapse of this sort can be attributed to fact that her primary training occurred not in conventional places but Outside.”

  Estrella looked at him with interest. “I didn’t know Salt had been Outside.”

  “Has been indeed, for two years one month as aforesaid. Spent nearly whole of one Core night in this way, returning because of approach of pre-fertilization condition.” He shook his head. “You see nature of things which happen when trained by others. Now you sleep, for one arrives early at Extremely Wet Planet in Binary Yellow-White system.”

  “So,” said Stan when the door was closed, sitting precariously on the edge of one of the boxes, “what do you think, Strell? Did we make a mistake coming along with him?”

  “Too early to say, hon. Anyway, if we’re going to visit human colonies they’ll probably have human food, don’t you think? And maybe we can borrow some chairs and things from them.”

  “Hey,” Stan said, suddenly cheered. “Maybe we can. Well, what about getting a little sleep? Which box shall we use?”

  “We’ll each use our own,” she said firmly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s no lock on the door.”

  Extremely Wet Planet in Binary Yellow-White System was exactly what it was advertised to be. That is, it was definitely wet. At least ninety percent of its surface was ocean, and even the three great land masses of the planet were dotted with large lakes.

  There were three separate human colonies on Extremely Wet Planet, all on the largest of the land masses and two of them on the shores of its largest lake, making it easy for the little aircraft that was waiting for them to make the rounds. The aircraft itself had room for a dozen passengers, though only Stan, Estrella and Achiever boarded it. Stan was a little perplexed when he could not find any external sign of either jets or propellers, but, once inside, was pleased to note that nearly half the passenger perches had been ripped out and replaced with seats more congenial to human anatomy. “Is mostly human persons who use this vehicle,” Achiever informed him. “They average to have sixteen to twenty-four new residents each day, number which appears to be increasing. Sit now, please. Aircraft is to become airborne.”

  When the engines started, Stan could hear them, all right. They screamed and yowled. When they were at their loudest the aircraft gave a sort of shudder, and then a leap, and then Stan could see the ground dropping away from them. What he could see was not much like what he would have seen from a plane on Earth: no cultivated fields, no cities. If there were Heechee communities below, as there surely were, they were by Heechee habit mostly underground and thus invisible.

  There was plenty of water to see, shining serpents of rivers and tree-shaded, mirror-like ponds. But Stan tired quickly of streams and lakes. He felt his eyes closing, but just as he fell asleep the aircraft twisted and dropped worrisomely, and all at once they were landing by the largest lake yet.

  They were met by nearly the total population of this newest human community, amounting to no more than a few hundred people. They were glad to have visitors, if a bit disappointed to learn that they weren’t going to stay. The grou
p, they told Stan and Estrella, had recently left Peggys Planet because it was too crowded. At least, that was what Stan understood, with difficulty, from the babble the settlers offered him. They were not easy to talk to. The fact that they were recent arrivals to the Core meant that the Outside they had left behind was not much like the one Stan and Estrella had last seen. The English language had absorbed a great many loan words in the many centuries that had passed Outside, not only of Chinese, Arabic, Polish and other human languages but some that might originally have been Heechee. Or might not.

  Achiever was as baffled as they. “This perhaps is language,” he admitted, “but cannot personally at all understand. You, Stan? Have spoken this talk with these persons?” When Stan shook his head, Achiever gave the breathy Heechee equivalent of a sigh. “Perhaps best go on to next place,” he said moodily. “This does not begin optimally well.”

  The next group was Greek, and they had been in the Core for nearly twenty days, long enough to be planning to start construction of a church and a school. What they didn’t have was many English speakers. The one they called in from the fields, where he had been planting olive saplings, was quite good, though, having got much of his education at MIT. But there hadn’t been much need for a civil engineer in the Greek parts of the island of Cyprus, where they had come from. “Because of the Turks,” he told them, shaking his head. “All the time having babies and babies and babies. We were being squeezed right out of the island, so we left.”

  Estrella frowned at that. She whispered to Stan, “But weren’t you—?”

  “Not really,” he whispered back. “But let’s get out of here.”

  The people of the third colony were Asian—mostly Chinese and Korean—and what they had in plenty, courtesy of Marc Antony, was food that Stan and Estrella didn’t always recognize but definitely could enjoy. That wasn’t all. “Would you stay on for a while?” the woman who greeted them asked, almost imploringly. “No? That is sad. Anyway, would you like some more dim sum?”

  They would, would in fact have gladly stayed on for at least two or three more meals, but Achiever announced he had a schedule to meet. “Anyway,” he said sunnily, “is good progress. One planet visited, four yet to come. Is not this excellent fun?”

  Well, it was more or less fun, even Stan had to admit that. Estrella, not in the least tired or queasy, thought so as well although she would have liked to see more of Salt, if only to compare notes on early pregnancy. That Achiever did not permit. “I ask you question: What are three necessities for becoming excellent pilot like self?” he demanded. “I answer in this fashion: Training. Training. And also training.” So he kept Salt’s nose to the grindstone, flying the ship when they were in space, remaining aboard it for safekeeping (against what possible imaginary danger he did not say) when they were planetside. “But,” he added generously, “am insuring this creates no hardship for yourselves, Estrella and Stan, since you already have adequate companionship for voyage in myself.”

  Small but Dense Planet of Bright Yellow Star Eighty-Three once more demonstrated the Heechee commitment to truth in advertising. As they landed Estrella complained, “There’s something funny about that ocean, Stan!” What was funny was that its horizon was definitely a lot closer than either of them had ever seen before. However the planet’s human inhabitants, though few in number, were welcoming—almost pitifully so, Stan thought, because settling on this not particularly pleasant little world offered few incentives to newcomers. All two or three hundred of the immigrants came out to greet them, and immediately offered a meal as well.

  Small but Dense Planet began to look a lot better to Stan, but Achiever was restive. “Is dallying quite sufficiently,” he said. “Return at this point to spacecraft for immediate departure.”

  Stan swallowed his mouthful of undifferentiated CHON-food. “What the hell for? We just got here!”

  “Nevertheless,” Achiever said, unmoved. “Such is my intention.”

  Estrella was more tactful. “But really, Achiever, this is a whole planet and all we’ve seen is this one little corner—”

  “Remaining corners of no additional interest. I remind you! I am captain commanding spacecraft and thus also of landing parties of all natures. Also desire to determine if junior copilot of spacecraft is appropriately discharging duties as assigned.”

  Estrella gave him an indignant look. “You mean you want to spy on her?”

  Achiever didn’t answer. “No further discussion. We return at present time!”

  Then, as they entered the ship, Stan began to suspect that Achiever’s doubts had been justified.

  Salt was not at her post at the controls. No one else was there, either. The operating chamber was empty except that someone had moved that unexplained hexagonal blue box into it. Achiever was fit to be tied. “Not only not present but having littered chamber for operating spacecraft as well! Oh, how very bad will be this blot on junior copilot’s record! Now must seek her out for reproving and discussion of faults!”

  Estrella held back. “Wait a minute, Achiever. Where are we going?”

  He stamped his foot, his belly muscles writhing. “You persons must not delay exercise of authority. Why are you delaying same? We go to sleeping place of junior copilot, which is where she may be when not in operating chamber. Come!”

  But he had taken no more than a few steps when he stopped, standing rigid. The tiny hairs at the base of his skull sprung erect and he seemed to be sniffing the air.

  “What’s the matter?” Stan demanded, suddenly uneasy.

  “Be soundless! Wait!” Achiever ordered, moving his head from side to side. “Oh, inexplicable event! Do you not feel it? Spacecraft is presently in takeoff mode! Stand still!” Which he himself did not do, but whipped around and sprang to the controls.

  Stan felt nothing, nor it seemed did Estrella, but it was true that the lookplates over the control perch were now showing a pattern of motion. Achiever was muttering distractedly to himself, not in English, as he strove with the controls. His hands strained on the great knurled wheels. The contorted muscles of his arms showed that he was using all his strength, but the wheels would not move.

  And then a voice from behind them said politely, “It’s no use. We’ve taken over the spacecraft.”

  Stan spun around. An elderly man who definitely hadn’t been there before was standing at the closed door, shabbily dressed, not recently shaved, a short stick in his hand.

  Achiever leaped to his feet, and wordlessly hurled himself at the stranger. He accomplished nothing, though: his body passed straight through the other’s and he wound up crashing against the wall.

  “Oh, hell,” the stranger said plaintively, “didn’t I tell you it wasn’t any use? You can’t touch me because I’m a simulation, can’t you see? And you can’t do anything with the controls because we’ve got them locked. Your ship has been requisitioned by Wan, and now I have to ask you to step into another room so you’ll be out of the way, okay? We won’t hurt you unless—oh, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  Achiever had rebounded to his feet and was heading toward the simulation again. This time he didn’t get that far. The stranger lifted the baton and pointed it at him. Nothing came from the rod, but a bright greenish spark flew out of the hexagonal box, and when it hit Achiever, his arms and legs flew wide, he emitted a screech of pain and crashed to the floor. “See,” the stranger said patiently, “you don’t want to give us any trouble, because if you do we’ll just have to hurt you. Hurt you a lot worse than that, I mean. So just step along, please, and anyway I think we might be going to let you out after we rescue up the others because, you know, there won’t be anything you can do anyway.”

  II

  The living quarters were all pretty much like Stan and Estrella’s own, except that all the lookplates were off and Salt was waiting at the door. She greeted them with relief and maybe a little satisfaction. “Were in any way harmed? No? Is how they also treated me, except for causing major painful
ness. But not you?”

  Achiever was busy checking all the doors. Stan answered for them all. “I think Achiever got a dose.” He raised his voice. “What about it, Achiever? Did they hurt you?”

  Achiever didn’t look back. “Extremely yes,” he said, then signed for silence as he peered around the corner of the doorway. Then, in his captain-in-command voice: “Salt!”

  She turned to confront him. “Yes?”

  “Are aware all entrances unsealed?”

  She said patiently. “Is true, Achiever, as I verified on first being delivered here. However, do not attempt going through, for same greatly painful event occurring at every time, or worse.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “You know this because have self tried? Huh. Nevertheless event is only painfulness, which persons of determination may ignore.”

  “Not correct, Achiever.” She flapped her fingers at him. “In first event, great pain. Second event, pain much greater still. Third event such pain as to cause unconsciousness. Have opinion that fourth time become life terminating, but cannot verify experimentally as did not try after third.”