In response to that thought, the psychic component of his malicious laughter came through with almost audible force. I saw I could waste no more time, not knowing how much I had left. And, from that new anxiety, he seemed to derive an increment of pleasure.
We left the pedistrip and pushed ahead on foot, shouldering through the mass of people.
Hall? I thought.
There was no answer. Then I remembered the coupling was a one—way arrangement.
Hall—I think I can save this simulectronic complex for you.
Not even a suggestion of amused reaction. Was he listening? But, of course, he must already know what I planned to do. He must have seen it in my background thoughts.
I’m going to make this crowd attack Siskin’s machine. I don’t care what happens to me.
How much delight was he drawing from the halting fear and humiliation I felt in addressing him directly, presumptuously?
I’m going to arrange it so that nobody will tolerate Siskin’s simulator. They’ll even destroy it. Which is exactly what you want. But that’s not necessary. Believe me. For we can have both Siskin’s machine and your reaction monitors down here. All we have to do is see that REIN is used only for research into sociological problems.
Still no indication he was considering, or even listening to what I was saying.
I think I can turn public opinion against Siskin. They’ll take their anger out on Simulacron-3. I won’t be able to stop that. But you can. It would be simple. A violent thunderstorm——just after I get them riled up——would scatter them.
In the meantime, you could reprogram a few reactors. Wipe Siskin out financially. Plant a move for public acquisition of his machine. They would see that it was used for nothing but research into human relations. The justification for reaction monitors in this world wouldn’t be reduced a bit.
Was he toying with me? Was his continued silence intended only to add to my anxiety? Or Was he preoccupied with anticipation of my being sighted by police, or with how the mob would handle me when I shattered their delusions?
I searched the sky for indication that he had ordered up the thunderstorm I had proposed. But there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
We were now in the final block before Reactions. And the street was so congested that I could hardly lead Jinx through.
Ahead fluttered the gaudy banner Siskin had festooned across the front of his building:
—HISTORIC OCCASION—
PUBLIC DEMONSTRATION TODAY
(COURTESY OF HORACE P. SISKIN)
REIN WILL SOLVE ITS FIRST PROBLEM
IN HUMANISM
Of course it was a fraud. Heath hadn’t had time to re-program the simulator for a new function. Siskin would eventually give the people some kind of idealistic double talk—possibly in preparation for a new legislative assault on the reaction monitors—after he let them cool their heels for a few hours.
The crowd lurched forward, carrying us along. And I was thankful for Siskin’s “demonstration.” There were thousands on hand to hear what I would have to say.
Jinx turned tensely toward me. “Surely he must have established empathy by now!”
But I was directing my thoughts intensely at the Operator in a final, unabashed plea:
Hall——if you’re considering what I’m saying, there are just a couple more things. Dorothy Ford deserves better than she’s had. You can wipe the sordid stuff through reorientation. Whitney will do a better job of supervising sociological research than Heath. And—find some way to get Jinx out of this. I can’t.
We had reached the final intersection and I felt like a man who had been praying. The uncertainty that followed my shameless petition was perhaps analogous to divine supplication in at least one respect: You don’t expect an oral answer from God either.
Then I felt it—the growing vertigo, the impact of roaring sound that wasn’t sound at all, the nausea, the lapping of unreal flames against all of my senses.
He had thrown the modulator out of phase. And, through welling torment, came the empathically transferred impression of his wild laughter.
He had heard me. But my abject submission had only delighted him into a frenzy of anticipation.
Then it occurred to me that perhaps he had never wanted to save his world. Maybe, all along, he had looked forward to reveling in the horror of thousands of reactors as they watched their universe crumble beneath them.
The knot of humanity in which we were trapped surged ahead, then flowed to the left. Like a current sweeping around a piling, it parted to course past a pedistrip transfer platform.
Hurled into the waist-high structure, I put my arm out to break Jinx’s impact with the metal ledge. Nearby, two policemen were trying to restore some semblance of order.
Hoisting Jinx onto the platform, I stepped upon the broken, twisted edge of a severed pedistrip and climbed up beside her. Twice we were almost pushed off before we could work our way back to the control superstructure.
Then, standing in the V-shaped recess, I evaluated our position. With steel behind us and on either side, we were exposed only from the front as we overlooked the surging tide of humanity that stretched out to the Reactions building across the street.
I gripped Jinx’s shoulder and turned her toward me. “I wouldn’t want to do it this way. But there’s no choice.”
Drawing the gun from my pocket, I twisted her around in front of me like a shield and held her about the waist. Then I brandished the laser weapon and shouted above the din for attention.
A woman saw the gun and screamed, “Watch out! He’s armed!” She sprang off the platform.
Three men followed, one shouting in midleap. “It’s Hall! It’s that guy Hall!”
In the next second the transfer platform was evacuated, except for Jinx and myself. We were left standing alone in the forward recess of the superstructure.
I lowered the empty gun and brought it around in front of me, aiming its intensifier at her side.
The nearer policeman fought through the press of bodies to the edge of the platform and drew his weapon.
“Don’t try to stun us!” I warned. “If you spray me, my reflex will kill her!”
He lowered his weapon and looked uncertainly at the other officer who had finally arrived at his side.
“You’re all wrong about protecting Siskin’s simulator!” I shouted. “He isn’t going to use it to improve the human race!”
There were general outbursts of catcalls and someone hooted, “Get him down from there!”
Four more policemen forced their way to the platform and began spreading out around it. But they could go only so far without being blocked off visually by the superstructure.
“I don’t think it’s going to work, Doug,” Jinx said fearfully. “They won’t listen.”
After the derisive response had quieted, I went on, “You’re suckers——all of you! Siskin’s using you like sheep! You’re only protecting his simulator from the reaction monitors!”
I was drowned out in a chorus of “Lie! Lie!”
One of the officers tried to climb upon the platform. I pulled Jinx closer and thrust my gun more firmly against her ribs.
He dropped back and stared in frustration at his own weapon. It was choked down to fully concentrated, lethal intensity.
I started to address the people again, but I only stood there trembling as the Operator turned his coupling modulator further out of phase. Frantically, I fought the thunderous roaring, the searing heat that raged in my head.
“Doug, what is it?” Jinx demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Is it the Operator?”
“No.” It wasn’t necessary that she know about the coupling.
I felt her tenseness drain off. It was almost as though she were disappointed that my torment hadn’t started.
The crowd quieted and I hurled out more frantic words:
“Would I be risking my life to tell you this if it weren’t true? Siskin only wants
your sympathy so ARM can’t fight him! His simulator won’t help anybody but Siskin!”
The upper Hall’s modulator slipped further out of resonance and the inner roaring was a ravening torture. It was relieved only by the reflected impression of his brutal laughter.
I glanced up. There wasn’t the merest suggestion of a cloud. Either he actually wanted to destroy his simulectronic creation or he didn’t think I could reorient his thousands of reactors.
“Siskin only wants to rule the country!” I shouted desperately. “He’s conspiring with the party! Against you!”
Again I had to wait for the vocal rumbling to subside before I could go on:
“With the simulator calling the shots for his political strategy, he’ll be elected to any office he wants!”
Some were listening now. But the great majority was again trying to shout me down.
A score of policemen had surrounded the platform. Several were working their way around the rear of the superstructure. One was shouting something into his transmitter. It wouldn’t be long before an air car would show up. And I wouldn’t be shielded from its occupants by Jinx.
Across the street, several persons were moving about on the Reactions building roof. I recognized two of them—Dorothy Ford and the new technical director, Marcus Heath.
Anxiously, I turned back to the mass below. “I know about Siskin’s plans because I was part of the conspiracy! If you don’t believe me now, you’ll be proving you’re the suckers Siskin thinks you are!”
On the roof Heath raised a voice amplifier to his lips. His frantic words boomed down:
“Don’t listen to him! He’s lying! He’s only saying that because he was kicked out of the Establishment by Mr. Siskin and the party and—”
He stopped abruptly, evidently realizing what he had said. He could have covered his slip by continuing, ”—and the party and Mr. Siskin have no connection whatsoever.”
But he didn’t. He panicked. And, by fleeing back into the building, he helped prove my point.
That alone might have been sufficient. But Dorothy came through too. She picked up the voice amplifier and spoke calmly into it:
“What Douglas Hall said is true. I’m Mr. Siskin’s private secretary. I can prove every word of it.”
I slumped with relief and watched the mob surge toward the building. But then I shouted in anguish as the Operator, obviously displeased with my success, dealt out the full throes of faulty coupling.
Jinx exclaimed, “He’s tuned in!”
Distraught, I nodded.
Then the pencil-sharp beam of a laser gun speared into my shoulder from above. As I fell, I saw the policeman clinging to his perch atop the superstructure.
I reached out to push Jinx away, but my hand went through nothing. She was gone. She had finally withdrawn to her own world.
Her disappearance startled the cordon of police, but only momentarily. Then another laser beam lanced out, spearing my chest. A third sliced me across the abdomen. A fourth hewed away half my jaw.
Blood spewing from the wounds, I rolled over and plunged into an abyss.
When awareness returned there was the feel of soft leather under my body, the pressure of something heavy, tight upon my head.
Befuddled, I lay motionless. There was no pain, no burning flow of blood from my many wounds. Whereas a moment earlier I had cringed before the vicious assault of nonresonant coupling forces, now there was only a peaceful stillness.
Then I realized I could feel no pain because there were no wounds!
Confounded, I opened my eyes and was instantly confronted with the effects of a strange room spread out all about me.
Although it was a room I bad never seen before, I could recognize the simulectronic nature of the equipment that filled almost all available space.
I glanced down and saw that I lay on a couch much like the one I had used before while coupled with reactional units in Fuller’s simulator. I reached up and removed the empathy helmet, then sat staring incomprehensively at it.
There was a couch next to mine. Its leather surface still bore the indentation of the person who had occupied it—for a long while, judging from the depth of the impression. On the floor nearby were the shattered remains of another headpiece that had evidently been dropped or hurled aside.
“Doug!”
I started at the suddenness of Jinx’s voice.
“Lie still! Don’t move!” she whispered desperately. “Put the helmet back on!”
She was off to my left, before the control panel of a large console. Rapidly, she began throwing switches, turning dials.
Responding to the urgency of her words, I dropped back on the couch and sank into my bewilderment.
I heard someone enter the room. Then a sober male voice asked:
“You’re deprogramming?”
“No,” Jinx said. “We don’t have to. Hall found a way to save it. We’re just suspending operations until we can program in some basic modifications.”
“That’s fine!” the man exclaimed. “The council will be glad to hear this.”
He came toward me, “And Hall?”
“He’s resting. That last session was rough.”
“Tell him I still think he ought to take that vacation before he activates the simulator again.”
Withdrawing footsteps evidenced the man’s departure.
And suddenly I was thinking of that day in my office when Phil Ashton had come barging in on me in the form of Chuck Whitney. Like Ashton, I too had somehow crossed the simulectronic barrier between worlds! But how?
The door closed and I looked up to see Jinx standing over me.
Her face burst into a grin as she knelt and removed my helmet. “Doug! You’re up here now!”
I only stared densely at her.
“Don’t you see?” she went on. “When I kept asking you if he had established contact, that was so I could time my return!”
“You withdrew,” I said, groping. “And you came up here. You knew you’d find him coupled. And you stepped up the circuit he was using to sudden, peak voltage!”
She nodded. “It had to be done that way, darling. He was destroying an entire world, when he could have saved it.”
“But why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do?”
“How could I? If I had, he would have known too.”
Still dazed, I rose. Incredulously, I felt my chest and abdomen, my jaw. It seemed almost impossible that there should be no injury. It was a moment before I could assume the diametric perspective. In swapping places with that other Hall, he had come into possession of the mortally wounded body barely in time to take a final breath!
Floundering across the room, I passed before the shining metal surface of one of the modulators and saw my reflection. Feature for feature, it was I—as I had always been. Jinx had not exaggerated when she had said the physical traits of Hall the Operator and Hall the analog were identical.
At the window, I stared down on an altogether familiar street scene-pedistrips, air cars cushioning along traffic lanes, landing islands, people dressed just as the reactors in my own world were. But why should anything be different? My analog city had to be a valid reflection of this one if it was to satisfy its purpose, didn’t it?
Looking more closely, I saw there was a perceptible difference. More than a few persons were nonchalantly smoking cigarettes. Up here there was no Thirty-third Amendment. And it was clear that one of the simulectronic functions of my counterfeit world was to test out the feasibility of a prohibition against tobacco.
I turned abruptly on Jinx. “But can we get away with this?”
She laughed. “Why not? You are Douglas Hall. He was going to take a two-month vacation. With the simulator out of operation, I’ll be able to take a leave too. We’ll just take it together.”
Eagerly, she continued, “I’ll familiarize you with everything——pictures of the personnel, the facts and features of our world, your personal background and mannerism
s, our history, politics, customs. After a few weeks you’ll know Hall’s role perfectly.”
It would come off! I could see that easily enough now. “What about—the world down there?”
She smiled. “We can patch it up like new. You know what reforms and modifications have to be made. Just before I deactivated it, I had Heath energize Reaction’s repulsion screen. When you turn the simulator back on, you can take it from there.”
“There’ll be a violent hailstorm to scatter the mob before they can crash through the screen,” I said, suddenly enthused. “Then I’ll have a whole schedule of developments and reorientations to program in.”
She led me over to the desk. “We can get started now. We’ll draw up a list of instructions and leave it with the staff. They can be taking care of the preparatory work while we’re away.”
I settled down in Hall’s chair, only then beginning to realize that I had actually risen up out of illusion into reality.
It had been a jarring transition, but soon I would become accustomed to the idea. And eventually it would be almost as though I had always belonged to this material existence.
Jinx kissed me lightly on the cheek. “You’ll like it up here, Doug, even though it doesn’t have quite the quaint atmosphere of your own world. You see, Hall had a flair for the romantic when he programmed the simulator. I thought he showed a lot of imagination in selecting such background prop names as Mediterranean, Riviera, Pacific, Himalayas.”
She shrugged, as though apologizing for the comparative drabness of her world of absolute reality. “You’ll also find that our moon is only a quarter of the size of yours. But I’m sure you’ll get used to all the differences.”
I caught her around the waist and drew her close. I, too, was sure I would.
Counterfeit World Page 18
