by Various
* * * * *
Suiting my actions to my words I got a wood chisel out of the tool locker and went into the booth, going to work on the missing link. To my surprise I had no trouble obtaining a thin slice of the silvery stuff. It lay in my hand, apparently as tame as any other substance.
I carried it out of the booth and laid it on the desk. The four of us stood looking at it. Suddenly it jumped forward and plastered itself against the forward porthole frame. We felt a slight lurch. The ship was gaining speed!
What had happened? In all our experience with the stuff it worked only by thought. It had jumped forward, and the lurch of the ship told us that the parent chunk as well as the sliver had acted together! Only one thing could account for that. Some intelligence was controlling it. Some intelligence so powerful that it could reach across space and blank out our control completely, taking over the direction of our ship!
We crowded around the forward porthole and peered out. Somewhere, far ahead, was our destination. And at our destination some creature of vast mental power was aware of our presence. Was forcing us to come to it. We were all aware of that without speaking.
Suddenly Lahoma began to laugh hysterically. The insane noise shattered the silence with painful abruptness. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Her laughter changed to sobs.
And now the acceleration of the ship had become so great that it was hard to stand erect. The rubber soles of our shoes was all that kept us from sliding to the stern of the ship.
Lahoma got hold of herself by a tremendous effort, and shook off my arm which I had placed around her to keep her from falling.
"Look," she said to us, "maybe there isn't any super intelligence sucking us into outer space. Maybe it's our own thoughts. I don't know how the rest of you have been feeling, but for several days now I have had a fear of outer space that has been growing simply terrific. Something like the fear of falling as you look over the edge of a cliff. Could that have anything to do with what's going on?"
"Maybe that's it!" Jud exclaimed. "We don't know half enough about this stuff. It could be that such a fear would make it do the very thing feared."
As if in answer, the ship stopped accelerating.
"That MUST be it!" Mallory shouted.
"We have a clue I hadn't thought of," Jud added. Looking at me he went on, "When you think of a chicken with its head being wrung, what thought goes with it?"
"Why," I hesitated, "I think of a swell chicken dinner."
"I think of how awful it is to kill!" Jud exclaimed. "It doesn't react to the idea but to the emotion."
We experimented from that basis--without result. The tellecarbon was in complete revolt. It paid no attention to us.
* * * * *
Two more days and we had to admit we were licked. Jud voiced what we had all begun to suspect.
"The tellecarbon must have developed a mind of its own," he said dispiritedly. "We should have taken that into account. It reacts to thought, so undoubtedly it has a few of the properties of the mind. What we must try to do now is reason with it--try to find out why it has become uncooperative. Let's all concentrate on that question and direct it at the tellecarbon and see what happens."
We tried it. Nothing seemed to happen for quite a while.
"An idea just came into my mind," Lahoma said suddenly. "It's absurd. I just thought, 'Suppose there is another chunk of tellecarbon out here and our chunk is lonesome?' The way it has been cruising around the past few days and ignoring us, it might have sensed another piece like it out here and be looking for it!"
"That's funny," I spoke up. "The thought just occurred to me too!"
"Me too," Mallory exclaimed.
"Then it must be so," Jud said. "Obviously the thought came from the tellecarbon in reply to our question!"
"But how can it think?" Mallory questioned. "After all it was precipitated as a fine film, and you can quash it and even slice it up without any trouble."
"In science," Jud said, "you don't try to argue away facts. You accept the facts and go on from there."
"Let's go on from there, then," Lahoma spoke up. "Tillie--we might as well call her that now that we know she, the tellecarbon, you know, thinks--is looking for a companion. We might as well help her look."
"How do you know it isn't a him?" I asked.
"Oh, just a feeling," Lahoma replied.
"Oh, fine," Mallory groaned. "We should have suspected it was a female the way it started galivanting all over the solar system."
"So that's the way you think of us females, Mallory!" Lahoma exclaimed angrily.
I smiled to myself. A few more remarks like that from Mallory and I would have the field to myself. IF we ever got back to the Earth, which I doubted. Secretly I agreed with Mallory. If the chunk of tellecarbon was a female we had much less of a chance than if it were a male or an it.
Jud went to the telescope and started looking for a stray chunk of silvery looking stuff. An air of semi-hopelessness began to settle over all of us. The chances of finding such a thing were extremely slim.
Almost at once, though, Jud let out an exclamation of triumph. We rushed to his side and took turns looking into the telescope. There, less than a quarter of a mile ahead of us, was something that flashed with silvery brilliance like the belly of a trout in a clear stream. We followed the flashes and soon figured out that Tillie was not searching for her companion, but had found him long ago and was, female like, pursuing him!
* * * * *
When the distance between them shortened, the silvery chunk ahead of us speeded up. When the distance between us increased, it slowed down again. It was obviously enjoying the chase.
"This could go on forever," Mallory groaned, sticking his foot in his mouth again.
Lahoma ignored the opening.
"It's obvious what we must do," she said, sounding quite capable. "Tillie needs a little advice on love making. I'm quite sure that Oscar, or whatever his name is, would pursue Tillie if she stopped CHASING him. We've got to convince her of that and get her to try it."
Evidently she didn't need convincing. She got the idea direct from Lahoma and acted on it. The silver flash ahead swung away. Half an hour later it showed up in the stern telescope.
This seemed to delight Tillie, the tellecarbon, no end. She cavorted about like a drunken puppy, giving us all a bad case of sea sickness.
"Now," Lahoma gasped. "We must coax Tillie into setting us back on Earth. I don't know how you men feel, but I would be quite willing to turn Tillie loose so she could join her mate--once we were safely home."
"But if we did that we wouldn't be able to explore the Solar System!" Jud exclaimed.
"And if we don't we'll probably wind up flattened against some asteroid as soon as Tillie decides to break out of her shell," Lahoma snapped.
I blanched at the thought. Mallory's knees buckled and he sat down on the floor weakly. Jud himself swayed a little.
That eventuality just hadn't occurred to us before. Obviously Tillie would get tired of the chase and want to settle down and get cozy some day. If she hadn't acquired the idea from us she might figure it out by herself and dash us against some jagged bit of space rock.
"All right. All right," Jud said weakly. "Let's see if we can talk Tillie into taking us back home in exchange for her freedom. As an arguing point you might all visualize the smashed ship, with her still imprisoned and all of us dead and unable to help free her."
An invisible hand seemed to push us to the back of the ship. We were picking up speed faster than we ever had before.
I slowly climbed to the forward telescope and looked through it. Dead center was a small twinkling Earth with the Moon hovering near it.
I informed the rest. They shouted with relief. We were on our way home!
The stern telescope showed the other piece of tellecarbon following us--almost sniffing at our heels. It held there, day after day, while the Earth grew larger and larger.
* * * * *
At the last Jud stood at the telescope and directed us in. After circling about ten thousand miles up until Puget Sound was directly below us, Tillie dipped down in obedience to his unspoken command.
The whistling sound of atmosphere on the shell was the sweetest music ever played by gods or men!
We landed on Puget Sound opposite the campus. The minute we touched shore I took a wrench and unscrewed the framework that held the tellecarbon in place in the center tube. I could feel a rapid, excited vibration as it waited--I mean she.
No sooner was the last bolt loosened than she darted away. She almost reached the open porthole where Mallory had taken his first breath of fresh air when she stopped and returned.
Tillie, the silvery blob of matter, came back and touched my cheek softly. Then she did the same to Lahoma.
We wasted no time in climbing out of the ship to the shore. There we looked up. Far over our heads were two silver flashes of brilliance that zoomed in ever-widening spirals.
I felt someone beside me and glanced down. Lahoma was standing there. Cautiously I put my arm around her waist.
With a starry look in her bright eyes as she glanced at me, she twined her arm around me. Then we looked up again.
Far above we saw a wonderful sight. The two silver flashes seemed to come together. There was a blinding light as from a tremendous explosion; but unlike an explosion it remained bright. It was like a morning star--a sun, far, far away. It grew smaller and smaller until at last it seemed just another star twinkling in the heavens.
There was an aftermath. We sold the space ship to a Ferry Boat company and they transformed it into a streamlined excursion boat with a conventional motor to drive it. But that isn't what I'm talking about.
Lahoma and I got married shortly after. I had sense enough to capitalize on the romance of the tellecarbons and proposed right then and there. She accepted, of course.
But it was two years later when our first child was born--little William Lawrence. One Sunday we were down at the beach strolling along, pushing the go-cart in the twilight.
A full moon beamed down upon us and a million stars twinkled in the clear sky. The waves washed with sleepy sounds against the sandy shore and now and then a sea gull came close enough so we could hear the swishing of its wings.
Into this pleasant scene came a sound--at first so faint it could hardly be heard. It was a shrill scream of some object hurtling through the atmosphere above, almost like the whine of plane struts, only much higher pitched.
Lahoma and I glanced up. There, far up, something silvery flashed. As our eyes adjusted themselves we saw that there were at least two of them, and they were coming closer.
Just as they seemed about to crash into the sandy beach they paused. There were two large pieces of silvery substance and five small pieces.
They hovered near us, quivering and scintillating. Then one of the two larger ones came over and touched my cheek softly. The warmth of its touch was almost human.
With coruscating brilliance it left me to pause and touch Lahoma's cheek. Then it darted down the beach, the other large piece just behind it, and the five little ones trailing along.
Lahoma put her arm around my waist and looked up into my eyes. And we both chuckled and chuckled and chuckled.
* * *
Contents
YE OF LITTLE FAITH
By Rog Phillips
It matters not whether you believe or disbelieve. Reality is not always based on logic; nor, particularly, are the laws of the universe...
The disappearance of John Henderson was most spectacular. It occurred while he was at the blackboard working an example in multiple integration for his ten o'clock class. The incompleted problem remained on the board for three days while the police worked on the case. It, a wrist watch and a sterling silver monogrammed belt buckle, lying on the floor near where he had stood, were all the physical evidence they had to go on.
There was plenty of eye-witness evidence. The class consisted of forty-three pupils. They all had their eyes on him in varying degrees of attention when it happened. Their accounts of what happened all agreed in important details. Even as to what he had been saying.
In the reports that went into the police files he was quoted with a high degree of certainty as having said, "Integration always brings into the picture a constant which was not present. This constant of integration is, in a sense, a variable. But a different type of variable than the mathematical unknown. It might be said to be a logical variable--"
The students were in unanimous agreement and, at this point, Dr. Henderson came to an abrupt stop in his lecture. Suddenly, an expression of surprise appeared on his face. It was succeeded by an exclamation of triumph. And he simply vanished from the spot.
He didn't fade away, rise, drop into the floor, or take any time vanishing. He simply stopped being there.
The police searched his room in the nearby Vanderbilt Arms Hotel. They turned a portrait of the missing math professor to the newspapers to publish. Arbright University offered a reward of one hundred dollars to anyone who had seen him.
The police also found a savings pass book in his room. It had a balance of three thousand eight hundred and forty dollars, which had been built up to that figure by steady monthly deposits over a period of years. It also had a withdrawal of three hundred and twenty dollars two days before the disappearance. They were sure they were on the path to a motive. This avenue of exploration came to an abrupt end with the discovery that he had traded in his last year's car on a new one, and that sum had been necessary to complete the deal.
After the third day the blackboard had been erased and the classroom released for its regular classes. Police enthusiasm dropped to the norm of what they called legwork. Finding out who the missing man's acquaintances and friends were, calling on them and talking to them in the hopes of picking up something they could go on.
They passed Martin Grant by because they had heard from him in their initial work. In fact, he had been a little too present for their tastes.
After ten days they dropped the case from the active blotter. The University, seeing that there was little likelihood of having to shell out the reward money, increased it to five hundred dollars.
But Martin Grant continued to ponder over a conversation he himself had had with John Henderson during a dinner six weeks to the day before his old friend had vanished. He remembered his own words...
* * * * *
"... and so you see, John, by following this trail, I've arrived at a theory that has to do with the basic nature of the universe--of all reality. Yet things don't behave as they would if my theory were operating."
John Henderson frowned into space, disturbed. Visibly disturbed. Martin watched him with a twinkle in his eyes.
"You must have gone off the track on it somewhere, Martin," John said suddenly, as though trying more to convince himself than his listener.
Martin shook his head with slow positiveness. "You followed every step. We spent four hours on it." He took pity on his friend. "Don't let it bother you. I regard it as just an intellectual curiosity. I've included it in my next book on that basis."
A new voice broke in. "What is it, Dad? One of your ten-thousand-word shaggy dog jokes?" This from Fred Grant, 16, student in the senior grade at the Hortense Bartholemew High School, and an only child of Martin Grant.
"A little more respect toward your father," Martin said with much sternness.
"Yes, Father."
"It was my theory."
John Henderson said, "But, Martin, I don't know what to think now. Of course there must be some fallacy that I've missed. The way things stand though, I--" He chuckled uncomfortably. "I begin to doubt myself. I can't quite classify it as an intellectual curiosity."
"What else can you do with it?" Martin said. "I know your trouble. It's a common one. You have a tendency to believe things or disbelieve them. Now you've been presented with something your intellect demands that you believe, while y
our experience shouts, 'lie'."
"Is Fred able to understand it?" John asked, smiling at the youngster with fond and unconscious condescension.
"Not yet," Fred smiled. "I'm still in high school."
"And if you don't want to flunk out you'd better be off to bed at once," Martin told him.
"Yes, Father. Good night, Dr. Henderson."
Fred's departure left a vacuum in the conversation that took a minute to fill. John Henderson frowned himself back to where he had been before the boy had arrived. When he got there he frowned even more, because it was a state of mental confusion that seemed to have no way of being resolved.
"Maybe we can get at it this way," he said. "Let's postulate that your theory is the only logical basis on which reality can rest. B, quite obviously reality does not rest on this basis. We could make C, therefore, that reality doesn't rest on a logical basis. But that doesn't seem to satisfy me. Maybe C could be--no--" He glanced at his watch, lifted his eyebrows and stood up. "I really didn't know it was so late. I'll have to be going, Martin. An eight o'clock lecture in the morning."
Martin made a wry face. "You've awakened my own conscience. I have an hour or two of work yet before bedtime."
The two men went to the front door. John said, "Thank your wife again for me. Wonderful dinner. You're lucky, Martin, to have such a good cook."
* * * * *
That had been six weeks before John Henderson vanished. Martin Grant mentioned this visit to Horace Smith, one of the teachers in his department, and got himself and his wife invited for dinner on the following Friday. Dinner over, the two professors retired to the library.
Two and a half hours later Horace had assimilated and grasped every detail of the theory. He then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, fingertips to temples, trying to find some flaw. Finally he shook his head. "It's no use," he said. "Your theory is logically inescapable. But--" He frowned. "Where does that place us? Probably where some schools of thought have always suspected we would wind up eventually. With the realization that the basic laws of the universe can't be reached by logic or even by experiment based upon logic."
