The Chromosome Game

by Hodder-Williams, Christopher

  Kelda says, ‘Look! Wild horses!’

  Trell can only reply, ‘Aren’t they marvellous!’

  For a time they are children again.

  Others file past while Trell and Kelda still look on. To varying degrees each incubant is affected … Already a guy called Frume observes the lonely Prenda (he thought her plain until now) as a potential companion — if only he can find a way of overcoming his shyness and say something real nice. Then he is lost in the crowd as the scramble down the ramp becomes an engaging stampede. There is fun to be had before dusk — and maybe some more after it. Don’t let’s waste time.

  Almost last is Sladey. To our surprise, he is still urbane and apparently relaxed as he talks to one of his cronies. He makes some witty comment — Good God, I thought the outside world would be in black and white — and chats on as if he’s already travelled a lot before, sunning himself in Nice and sipping a sour in Whisky-a-Gogo. He shows no sign that bears on Tortureday; it is all locked inside, totally camouflaged and inert.

  If he sees the opportunity, he will turn the combination lock of his secret thoughts and become a madman.

  Finally they are all out, some still trooping down the steps, others already ashore and beginning to make plans, or indulging in horseplay, or lightning flirtations, or just brown study.

  The people of Futureworld are revving up to go places in their lives; to perpetuate the species and to rear and tend and equip their young.

  And, as the end of the tape flips past the heads, we wonder why in hell we ever got so worried.

  Surely we know optimism when we see it?

  *

  But — for all that — the gods of the universe remain conspicuously silent.

  Minus Three

  On Planet 47, however, there is plenty to say.

  At the Hilton there is well-orientated activity following upon a discreet reconnaissance to Earth carried out in a mini-transpacial by the C-in-C himself. On the trip he took only one Operations crewman and a liaison god.

  The outcome has worried him and he reports, now, to the Senior Interrogod, who frowns uneasily at the written debrief and buzzes for the videotape engineer.

  Thereafter the Interrogod, the C-in-C and the engineer cross the complex over to the Operations Room. An annexe to this vast emporium provides an ideal setting for an intense study.

  *

  The Interrogod said, ‘What I dislike most of all are the Emotion Read-outs you picked up.’

  The C-in-C nodded in agreement. ‘Problem is, most of the Hate is locked into the minds of the least conspicuous … the nonentities, one might say. Programmed as they are — literally from the cradle — they’re exposed totally to the sort of poison being pumped out by incubants like Sladey-555, Scorda-099 … people like that.’

  ‘What about Trell, Kelda, Krand … their group?’

  ‘They’re getting on with things in the way you’d expect. As you’ll see from the latest VTRs we’ve brought back they’re already fixing up the camp at a brisk tempo.’

  The Deputy-Administrator Milky Way said, ‘Mind if I interrupt?’

  ‘No, go ahead.’

  ‘Now that we have all the ova and semen data in — I mean, of course, that used for the incubators — a very interesting and significant issue has emerged —’

  The C-in-C said impatiently, ‘— You mean, Huckman?’

  ‘No, not Huckman … I’m going to call up the data, gentlemen. If you’d watch the information displayed on the video screen? … I’ll bring it up on Screen Five. Now. Watch.’

  He walked briskly to the Terminal Console and punched up the command code. After a second or two the blue fluorescence of the screen became a mass of information, line by line.

  Nothing was said for a few moments.

  The Interrogod said, ‘I see what you mean. Eagle-100.’

  The Deputy Administrator agreed quietly, ‘And he’s the only one.’

  The Interrogod read-off several lines from the screen: ‘ “Confirm parents of Eagle-100 were lovers. This not known at time of supposedly random acquisition of semen and ova donations. Two healthy children reared by these parents Twentieth Century. Researches indicate parents concerned keen to have third child …” Good Lord. Don’t tell me there’s been some real love around somewhere? Any other cases?’

  ‘None’ The Deputy Administrator added, in a slightly strained voice, ‘From what we’ve picked up on Quantum-Radio, Eagle has been in touch with them … At least got as close as their Dispersal Centre.’

  The C-in-C became irritable. ‘How on Earth would Eagle know how to use Quantum-Radio? That’s our own damn communications system!’

  Gently, the Interrogod reproved him with a tolerant smile. ‘Do we have to take out a patent? Eagle has been acting on intuition. I don’t see the need to sue!’

  The Deputy Administrator went on, ‘Reason I raised it is because Eagle-100 seems so alert to the overall consequences of the whole Kasiga operation … From his read-outs it’s quite clear that he’s onto the simple fact that Sladey and Scorda — their mob — wouldn’t stand a chance if the majority of the incubants were emotionally secure. As things are, the silent majority have plastic minds.’ He turned to the VTR engineer. ‘How long before we can expect an edited version of the tapes?’

  ‘I’m aiming for noon tomorrow, sir.’

  ‘What do you make of what you’ve seen?’

  ‘The colour quality is okay —’

  ‘ — no, I mean the mood of these people?’

  The engineer paused a while to think this out. ‘I’m no expert as you know. The impression I get is that things are healthier on the surface than they are underneath. The impression generally is like a badly directed movie: it’s trying to show a sort of wigwam-building tribe full of hope when in fact all the cast who aren’t going to get credits are sulking. You get this even more if you combine the tape with the Emotion Read-outs. I’ve put the emotion track on some of it and the general effect is of conflict. As for your nonentities, I agree. Their names are hardly known to people like Trell. For instance there’s a guy called Frume who could swing in any direction, another one called Kendip who seems to have been overlooked. They’re typical “nonentities”, sir, but this very fact seems to conceal what’s going on in their minds. I guess Flek is a bit more obvious but that makes him less dangerous.’

  The Interrogod said, ‘I think that’s a pretty good resume.’

  The engineer seemed pleased. ‘I try to keep my eyes open but I must confess that some of the stuff that winds up on the cutting room floor might well turn out to be more significant than it seems.’

  The C-in-C said, ‘We can’t keep it all.’ He turned to the Interrogod. ‘I think we should send another transpacial more or less immediately … maybe make it just a shade conspicuous, see if we get any reactions.’

  ‘Some UFO-type thing? — Using re-perceptionals so at least one or two of ’em sense it?’

  ‘Yes. Might do something to warn young Eagle that his reservations are well-founded. We can’t do much more.’

  The Interrogod said, ‘Okay. Agreed. Sneak in a flying saucer and see if the warning sinks home. That’s all, gentlemen. Thanks for your help.’

  *

  ‘Say, Kelda! Kelda!’

  Nembrak said, ‘She can’t hear you from down here, Trell.’

  Trell gazed up at the exposed bows of Kasiga. From down on the beach he still hadn’t got used to the submarine’s vast proportions, didn’t realise that the top of the gangplank was farther away than it looked. He said, ‘Where the heck is Krand? I asked him to get those walkie-talkies fixed up.’

  Nembrak said, ‘Ask me that later.’ He spoke quietly, almost under his breath.

  Trell shot him a quick look. Anxious.

  Ever since it had leaked out that the incubants were Icecube-Orphans, the undercurrent of unease had taken a peculiarly unnerving form. Sporadically, there descended a mesmerised mood on them; so that one moment they were full of life a
nd activity, the next they were absorbed in themselves, or watching each other for signs of a loss of grip that was hard to tie down … a sort of stammer in their progress that became amplified whenever there were pulses of rancour among the constituent groups.

  There was plenty of this. Though no one had gone into lurid details about Tortureday, there was no doubt that those to whom Trell had appealed over the mike, urging them to rescue the computer’s victims, had been shattered by what they found.

  Somehow the auto-nurses knew how to get at people’s brains. How, nobody knew. But had the Controller been allowed to persist with this electronically-induced agony, the culprits would probably have been driven insane … Sladey, Scorda, and the three baseball addicts — Handem, Gendabrig and Flek — had been discovered screaming like spiked pigs. Nembrak and the twins had torn them away from the auto-nurses rather as terrified parents might snatch children from a chemical fire. The victims’ eyes had been protruding grotesquely by the time Kelda and the twins were treating them. And since then, no one had ventured into the Treatment Area, haunted by the thought that the mechanical devices in there might, out of frustration, attack individuals indiscriminately.

  Superficially things were under control; and the emotional lift resulting from the initial view of Futureworld seemed to have erased some of the horror of Tortureday.

  But it lurked beneath the surface now, like sharks biding their time deep in the enticing waters of tropic resorts, awaiting their chance of drawing blood.

  Two days after Exodus, Eagle had come to Kelda while she was down in the ravine, measuring out the distances for the flight of steps that were to lead up to the huts on the hillrise.

  ‘Me Big Eagle want talk to White Man’s Squaw.’

  — The name of the game — Cowboys and Indians — was that much richer in amusement because Eagle himself was the ultimate Paleface. Typically, he reversed matters by playing Apache to Trell’s Federal men … not that there was too much time for bows and arrows while pitching camp.

  But Kelda didn’t miss the seriousness behind the time-honoured Red-Indianisms of Kensington Gardens or Central Park. (Kelda always thought of Eagle as an Englishman and herself a New Yorker. She could not have known that she was so right.) ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘Can anyone else hear us?’

  ‘Not down here in the ravine.’

  ‘Trell told you about my experiment?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, Kelda, we have … confirmation of such things in a very different form — unless of course Nembrak the Inventor is inventing it.’

  ‘If he were you’d know.’ — Kelda thought, I’ve never seen Eagle’s face so taut and determined.

  He said, ‘How well do you know Nembrak and that girl of his?’

  ‘I know them well enough. He and Fulda do know fact from fiction, though I must say I think Fulda worries a lot. To me she seems anaemic, Eagle — all arms and legs and a face like a ghost.’

  He said quietly, ‘Ghosts simply aren’t in it. Mark you, the other two members of the Inventors’ Club don’t believe what Nembrak said.’

  ‘I thought they were thick as thieves. It’s odd they don’t believe him.’

  ‘I do know what you mean — In fact, the four of them seemed to be becoming inseparables in more ways than one. … To get to the point. Nembrak and Fulda were relaxing together out here, late at night.’

  ‘I follow.’

  ‘So they can’t be sure whether they were dreaming or not.’

  ‘But if they were, they both dreamed the same thing — Is that what you’re saying? … Is it possible?’

  ‘Just. Except it doesn’t make any difference to whether or not the content was valid. Sometimes the Universe expresses things that way.’

  ‘Eagle, get on with it! You’re making me feel really spooked.’

  ‘There was a UFO, a flying saucer contraption. Came at them and hovered and landed nearby. Out of it stepped some people who looked absolutely ordinary except they were luminescent … All right: you’ve seen the movies and I know what you’re thinking, Kelda.’

  ‘Anything but that, you have my word. Every nerve in my spine is —’

  ‘— is electrostatic? I know the feeling. Well, these “people” took a look around and they were talking to each other in ordinary English — well, almost ordinary English, except they had some funny words … Transpacial, for instance. But they referred to the Hilton … You know?’

  She nodded. ‘There used to be a whole string of hotels called the Hilton, didn’t there?’

  ‘That’s perfectly right.’ Eagle took a deep breath. ‘It seems these fluorescent people were sort of VIPs. They had two-way radio and were using some very odd handles to their boss’s names — for instance one of them put through a call to the Deputy Administrator, Milky Way. But these guys who weren’t really ordinary guys were sort of abandoning us — giving us up as a bad job … Kelda, I know I’m not expressing this right —’

  ‘— The picture you’re painting is all too vivid.’

  ‘Yes? All I can say is, the Top Brass of the universe, who were talking over the radio just like the Air Force, don’t seem to have much faith in this Operation here — not if you can believe Nembrak and Fulda. At one point, as these people climbed back into the flying saucer, one of them remarked ‘Hawkridge was dead right: that hidden deck contained a batch of kids without a future — we better get out of here!’ — and what I’m saying, Kelda, is They must know … ‘Not worth a rescue operation’! — that’s what they meant, Kelda! And I hate saying this to you of all people … I mean, one look at you and I know Nembrak must be wrong, because you’re full of hope and optimism, and to tell you the truth I feel a bit ridiculous by now.’

  She stared back. Her fingers had gone numb. ‘You must realise what I’m thinking, Eagle: Nembrak hadn’t seen the ship’s logs. How could he have known the name “Hawkridge” if this thing never happened?’

  Eagle fell silent, just listening to the crickets in the long grass. Eventually he managed, ‘I’m hoping it’s more of a symptom of shock. Shock really can tell people things, you know. Words somehow get through — even if people haven’t actually heard them. Nembrak the Inventor hasn’t yet got over what’s been happening lately … suddenly finding out he never had any direct parents, knowing we all came out of the deep freeze — no home, no brothers and sisters, no background, no actual memories of early childhood, just one damn great hoax! Of course, you’re different — you and Trell, you don’t seem to feel the same isolation and loneliness —’

  ‘— Not different, Eagle. Sorry to disappoint you. Definitely not different.’

  ‘Well, there’s show business for you. You could certainly have fooled me.’

  ‘What happened to this UFO?’

  ‘It got the hell out of there — fast.’

  *

  She’d gone straight to Trell. He took one look at her and said, ‘My God, what’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen —’

  ‘Trell! If anybody else says that I’m going to freak out.’

  She told him what happened.

  ‘How did Eagle take it, do you think?’

  ‘All I know is, he took it seriously.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something, Kelda. By now, if I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t believe in a damn thing.’

  ‘Same.’

  ‘We’ll make it.’

  — And that was only two days back.

  *

  And now, Kelda stood astride, wearing a pair of knock-out jeans, right at the uppermost hatch of the sub and bathed in sunlight. It was just as if the event Eagle reported had never happened, her natural optimism and superhealth rendered her an unforgettable silhouette against the contour of the Alps far beyond — at least to Trell.

  He was way down below, in the ravine, directing hectic operations onshore.

  Kelda cupped her hands and yelled down from the upper hatch, ‘No walkie-talkies up here yet
, Trell! Any sign of Krand?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Walkie-talkies.’

  ‘Ten-four. Can you hang on a couple of minutes? Just having a word with Nembrak.’

  ‘Make if fast, can you? A lot of stuff to shift.’

  ‘Sorry, repeat that.’

  ‘Make it fast, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Trell turned back to Nembrak. ‘Briefly.’

  ‘Right. A moment ago I saw Eagle go running up to Krand. He had something to say and Krand didn’t like it too much, I though they both looked … uneasy.’

  ‘Eagle okay?’

  ‘He didn’t give away a thing, but he’d been following Sladey and Scorda …’ Nembrak indicated a copse a few hundred metres off. ‘They’ve got hold of … something.’

  ‘Which something. Do you know?’

  ‘No. But here’s Krand coming back.’

  ‘Right. Don’t say anything now, Nembrak. Too many people watching.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Krand was out of breath. The three of them exchanged hasty glances. Krand managed, ‘We’ll have to meet tonight but it can’t be in the Laundry Chute. Reasons.’

  Trell nodded. ‘Something will be fixed … Krand, do me a favour? I must stay down here, this end, while Nembrak and I decide the siting of the factory … Can you get it together and nip up the gangway? … Equip Kelda with a walkie-talkie and have one sent down here for me.’

  ‘Sure, Trell.’

  ‘And while you’re at it, get an estimate from the computer on the incubation dates for livestock — calves and pigs. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. I could use a drink of real fresh milk;

  ‘You’ll have to wait a while for that!’

  ‘Shame there’s no way of stepping-up the incubator.’

  ‘Testing, testing … One, two, three. Over.’

  Back came Kelda’s voice. ‘Okay, I can hear you.’

  Trell said, ‘And you sound super … Kelda, can you switch your TV monitor to the ZD-One main hoist?’

  ‘Yeah, done that, go on.’

  ‘Is the mini-tractor on the hoist yet?’

  ‘Ar, no. Not yet. It’s occupied by the inflatable hot-houses. Seems the Computer is crazy for tomatoes.’