The professor, urgency in his voice, said, “Gentlemen, gentlemen. This is nonsense, I fear. Mr. Alshuler has unfortunately picked up some incorrect ideas.”
Bert looked at him in turn. “Kay. You tell me the right ones. Why was Killer Caine picked for this project?”
“For the very reason I told you.”
“My I.Q. doesn’t exactly brand me a genius.”
“We didn’t go solely by I.Q., my dear Alshuler. I told you that. We went by your Ability Quotient, only one element of which involves I.Q. Your I.Q., by the way, is 132 which puts you in the Very Superior category. But your Ability Quotient is composed of a score of other tests as well. How do you think you became Killer Caine, surviving where so many died? It was because of your quick reflexes, your ability to act coolly in the, ah, crunch, I believe you call it. It was your dexterity, your intuitive reactions in emergency. It is all these things which make up your Ability Quotient.”
“Man,” Jim chuckled. “My old buddy.”
The general looked at him. “Your own Ability Quotient was almost as high, Captain.”
Bert said, “So it was you who decided, eh?” He turned back to Leonard Katz. “What’s going on? Under these shots and pills Marsh has been giving me, I’ll be able to wade through every course this university offers in months, if not weeks.”
“Through every course the world offers, Alshuler.”
Bert was startled. “What?”
“Through the international data banks, my dear Alshuler, you can take the courses of any university in the West and even quite a few in the Soviet Complex, though using Mid-West University City as your base of studies. That course you completed in Early English emanated from Oxford. It was not ours. When you study French and French literature the courses will originate in the Sorbonne and German from Heidelberg. When you study engineering, it will be from Great MIT. Naturally, we won’t duplicate subjects. Most of your elementary courses will originate right here but it would be ridiculous for you to take our Russian courses, though we have them. When you get to Russian, you’ll study through the University of Moscow, or Leningrad. We are making arrangements for some courses in Mandarin at Peking.”
“This floors me,” Bert said. “But I want to get back to something earlier. Yesterday, I had a session with Assistant Professor Kenneth Kneedler, who evidently belongs to a group that figures you’re an opportunist. He read off a whole collection of quotes from various authorities who evidently viewed with alarm these breakthroughs in the development of the brain.”
Katz nodded. “I know Kneedler. Obviously, we don’t see eye to eye. The very existence of his organization, a split-off from the one to which the general and I belong, by the way, is an indication of the dangerous forces which confront us and the need for us to make our way with care. Basically, his group desires to release our present information and devices to all. But, you see, Alshuler, a shifting of only 1.5 percent in the I.Q. of the whole population would more than double the number of people with I.Q.s of over 160. How many geniuses can we afford?”
“I’d think the more the better,” Bert said.
“Possibly, but not necessarily. That is why we are treading so carefully. As G. R. Taylor put it, our society is adjusted to the basic facts of human mental attainment and weakness in many intricate ways. Any dramatic change in parameters such as intelligence, memory-power, emotionalism, ability to make decisions would create problems for which there is literally no precedent And if such knowledge lent increased power to those who might misuse it to influence or control others, might not undreamed-of tyrannies arise?”
Bert said suddenly, “Why me? Why Jill Masterson?” He looked from the professor to the general and back again. “Why don’t you use these new processes on yourselves?”
The professor smiled ruefully. “To the extent possible, we have, although the stimulants you and Miss Masterson are being subjected to are the very latest and beyond what we have had in the past. However, they apply best to the young. As we grow older, they drop off drastically in effectiveness. The mental capacities of the human animal are at their peak between the ages of 15 and 25; after that they slowly fall off. Brain cells do not divide and a hundred thousand of them perish every day. Despite the brain’s great margin of surplus capacity, eventually the effect is felt. To teach something really new to a man who has reached his four score years and ten is very difficult.”
“Then, once again, why me? Why not get some kid of fifteen?”
The professor made a gesture of the obvious, his palms upturned. “Remember, we are going by Ability Quotient, not just I.Q. An adolescent doesn’t have the experience behind him to be able to assimilate that which you and Miss Masterson can.”
Bert Alshuler came to his feet, jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and prowled up and down in thought. Finally, he said, “Then what it amounts to is that Jill Masterson and I are guinea pigs. You want to see what will happen when we have become as completely educated as possible, and when our I.Q. and Ability Quotients have been as stimulated as possible.”
“That is roughly correct.”
“Kay. What happens when we have completed the course… the project?”
“That is what we are waiting to see. Future plans depend upon it.”
“Kneedler mentioned the chance that the Soviet Complex or China might come up with the same breakthroughs and utilize them immediately.”
“In the name of Cain, don’t you think we’re aware of that?” General Paul said.
Bert thought about it. Finally, he said, “Kay. For the time, at least, I’ll go along with you and recommend the same to Miss Masterson. But I’ve got one demand.”
The other three looked at him.
Bert said flatly, “I want that damned Priority One, so far as the National Data Banks are concerned, lifted.”
“Priority One?” Professor Katz said. He looked at the general blankly.
The general was only a bit embarrassed. “I thought that in the early stages it might be better if they were restricted on what they could find out about the operation.”
The professor came back to Bert Alshuler. “Very well, we’ve now revealed a great deal more than we had expected to at this date. We’ll make immediate arrangements for unlimited priority so far as scholarly studies are involved.”
Bert stood. He said thoughtfully, “I begin to see why you used the expression, wealthy beyond my dreams of avarice. Jill and I will be the most educated persons the world has ever seen, won’t we?”
“Yes,” the professor said simply.
Chapter Fourteen
On the way down in the elevator, Jim Hawkins said, “Holy smokes.”
“Yeah,” Bert said.
Jim said, “You didn’t buy all that, old buddy?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. There are too many loose ends.”
“Like what? Old buddy, how can you lose? Imagine being the smartest man in the world.”
“I wouldn’t remain the smartest man in the world long. That’s the decision they’re going to have to come up with. As soon as they see that Jill’s brains and mine don’t leak out under the pressure, they’re going to have to decide who to give it to and how many of them. Is it going to be everybody, or a handful? It’s a decision I’d hate to have to make.”
“Maybe you will have to make it, old buddy. By that time you’ll be smarter than Katz, Marsh and Bugs Paul all wrapped together.”
Bert looked at him. “That’s another thing I don’t like. Remember the reputation Bugs Paul had over in Asia?”
Jim said slowly, “He was a little… ambitious.”
At the metro station in the basements, Jim said, “Look, you figure anything might happen between here and your apartment? If you don’t I’ll go over to my digs and gather up my things. I’m moving in with you until all this is through.”
Bert looked at him, frowning, “Isn’t this going to mess up your own studies?”
“You said, War and Peace.”
“Yeah, but then I was trying to project intelligence.”
Bert grunted. “Kay, old buddy, pack your things and come on over. I still have the uncomfortable feeling I could use a bodyguard.”
“And a chaperon, old buddy. I’m not forgetting my girl lives next door.”
Bert Alshuler made it back to the Administration Building without incident, but then, for some reason, he didn’t want to go up to his suite quite yet. He had spent too much time there in the past few days. Spacious as it was, he had the feeling of being cooped up. He knew very well that the moment he got back into the study he would start cramming again and in a way, fascinating though it was, he revolted against so many hours at an auto-teacher. In the past he had only been a moderate student, studying enough to get by but not pushing it. He had the feeling now that the next weeks were going to be one of the longest drags he had ever been through.
So he dropped off into the auto-cafeteria where he had met Jill and Jim—was it only yesterday?
He took the same table they had been at before and put his Identity Card in the table’s slot and called for a glass of imported British ale, a drink he had always liked but which hadn’t been on his budget as a student on Guaranteed Annual Income. Evidently, just about anything was on his budget now.
When the brew came, he sipped it slowly. He was wondering what the computers would decide to give him next when someone said, “Major Caine?”
Bert looked up. “The name is Albert Alshuler.”
“All right. Mind if I sit down?”
The newcomer was in his mid-thirties, neatly dressed, open-faced and didn’t project being either a student or a member of the university’s faculty.
Bert Alshuler shifted his shoulders so that his jacket draped in such manner as to facilitate a quick draw from the shoulder rig slung beneath his left armpit.
He said, “I have no monopoly on the table. However, there seem to be others in the vicinity that are empty.”
The other nodded, but sat down. “My name’s Harmon. Frank Harmon. I wanted to talk with you.”
“Start talking, friend. Drink?”
“I’m on duty.”
“Oh? What kind of duty?”
“Local Security. I’m a cop… Mr. Alshuler.”
“Kay. What can I do for you?” Bert Alshuler finished his ale and summoned another one.
“Three students were killed yesterday and, we’re not sure, but another seems to be missing.”
Bert Alshuler was wide-eyed. “You mean here in town?”
“In the jurisdiction of this university city.”
“Well, what’s all this razzle about? What do you want with me?”
“They were killed with a laser.”
Bert looked at him, frowning puzzlement. “So?”
“You’re acquainted with the use of laser weapons?”
“Obviously. They were just coming in during the last months of my service. For that matter there must be thousands of ex-military personnel in this city who have been checked out on lasers.”
“But few so well as you and Captain Jim Hawkins.”
Bert shrugged and took up his fresh glass. “What are you getting at, uh, Harmon?”
Frank Harmon looked at him for a long moment. “I was in the big one too, Killer.”
“Don’t call me that. I never asked for the handle and never liked it. So you were in the Asian War too. Does that make us old comrades in arms?”
“I’m not trying to antagonize you, Mr. Alshuler. This is my job. I don’t want to intrude on you. I can understand you wanting to drop out of all the publicity crud they heaped on you. Like I say, I was in it too. I’ve got a lot of respect for… for the man who took as many decorations as you did.”
Bert said, “I’ve mislaid my violin. What did you want, Harmon?”
“Where were you yesterday?”
“When? Mostly I was in my apartment.”
“Your student mini-apartment in the Parthenon Building?”
Bert looked at him in disgust. “I assume you know better than that. Professor Leonard Katz has made arrangements for me to take over Suite G. in this building while I do some special courses utilizing new education methods he and some of his associates have dreamed up.”
“Where were you at about two o’clock?”
“I imagine in my suite. I don’t recall checking the time particularly during the afternoon. Why?”
“Because something strange happened. An electro-steamer was summoned down in the metro and was driven to the house in which the three students were found. Later it returned to this building again. The thing is, there is no record of whose identity card was utilized to rent the vehicle. Somehow that information was erased from the data banks.”
Bert Alshuler tried to look pained. “Oh, now really. Do I look like somebody who has access to the data banks? I’ve only been in town a few days. I don’t even know where the data banks are located, and I’m not an electronic technician. Why pick on me to question, Harmon?”
The other sighed. “We’ve never had a murder before in this university city. Certainly not three at a crack—performed with lasers. You turn up under an assumed name, are shortly established in luxurious quarters, although you have no known source of income beyond GAI, and in a few days three men are beamed down. What did you come here for, Alshuler?”
Bert projected disgust. “Would you believe to study?”
Frank Harmon said abruptly, indicating Bert’s jacket, “You’re heeled, aren’t you, Alshuler? You’re carrying a concealed weapon. Do you have a permit?”
“I wouldn’t have any trouble getting one. Sure I’m heeled. Before I changed my name and underwent a little plastic surgery, I used to get a dozen crank letters a week. Every crackpot in the country would have loved to get his face in the news by knocking off Killer Caine.”
“Is it a laser? They’re forbidden to civilians, under any circumstances.”
“Of course not. It’s a gyro-jet.”
“May I see it, please?”
“No. See here, friend, I’m getting tired of this. If you think you have anything on me, then take me and charge me. You’ll have a hot potato on your hands when the news boys plaster the fact around that you’ve arrested the most highly decorated man to come out of the war, for carrying a gun for self-defense.”
The Security man stared at him in frustration, then came to his feet. He said wearily, “All right, Alshuler. But something smells here and I’m going to find out what’s causing the stench.”
“Good luck,” Bert said, and turned his attention back to his glass.
When Frank Harmon was gone, Bert Alshuler ran his right hand over his mouth unhappily. Double damn it.
These days, the police had methods undreamed of even a quarter of a century ago. He wondered if he had left any fingerprints, or anything else in that house where the shooting had taken place. Or if Jill had. Damn it Why hadn’t he thought to check that out?
He brought his pocket phone from his jacket, activated it and said into the screen, “Lieutenant General Russell Paul. The number is undoubtedly restricted, but I assume I have priority.”
The general’s face faded in.
Bert said, “Can you scramble this so that it won’t be recorded in the data banks, or anywhere else, for that matter?”
“Yes, if necessary.”
“It’s necessary.”
“Just a moment, then.” The other did something off screen and then came back, full face and looked at Bert quizzically. “Go on.”
“Kay. There’s on
e of your lower echelon boys here, Frank Harmon, who’s bugging me, as Jim Hawkins would probably put it. That matter yesterday. Can’t you have him transferred to Greater Denver, or something?”
“I see. I’ll have him eliminated.”
“Eliminated, for God’s sake! Listen, he seems to be a good man. Bounce him up a grade or two—but send him to Alaska or Peru for the time being.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Major. I had no intention of physically eliminating the man.”
When the other’s face was gone, Bert returned the phone to his pocket. He said, meaninglessly, “Bugs Paul.”
His drink was suddenly tasteless to him. He got to his feet and wended his way through the tables and chairs to the door. He passed within a short distance of the two kids who had been with Jim and Jill the day before. They were seated, holding hands across the table, and staring raptly into each other’s faces. What were their names? Clyde and Betty. He grunted. Had he ever been that young? He had gone into the war at seventeen; he hadn’t had much time for youth.
He took the elevator up to the top floor and entered his apartment, thinking that part of the treatment that Marsh was giving him must involve stimulation of desire to achieve learning. He had always considered himself on the lazy side, before, but now he was keen to get to his next course.
Jill’s voice called, “Bert? Jim?” from her suite.
He went to the bedroom that adjoined her quarters and passed on through to her place. He called, “Jill? It’s Bert.”
She was in her living room.
She said something, but the words came out so fast, so run together, that he couldn’t make them out. When she moved, it was like one of the early silent movies where for gag reasons the Keystone Cops, or Charlie Chaplin, or whoever, were speeded up to an impossible pace.
Bert looked around. On the room’s small desk were two bottles he recognized. He went over and picked up the green one and shook out a pill. “Here take this.”
There was a carafe of water. He poured her a glass to chase down the pill. Although he had already been under the effect of Marsh’s stimulants himself several times, this was the first he had witnessed it in another. It was on the startling side.
Ability Quotient Page 10
