The Demolished Man

by Alfred Bester

  “You out there!” Reich roared. “Can you hear me! All of you…sleeping and dreaming. You’ll dream my dreams from now on! You’ll—”

  Abruptly he was silent. He relaxed his hold on Duffy and permitted her to slide to the floor alongside him. He seized the sides of the window and poked his head far out into the night, twisting his neck to stare up. When he drew his head back into the room, his face wore a bewildered expression.

  “The stars,” he mumbled. “Where are the stars?”

  “Where are the what?” Duffy wanted to know.

  “The stars,” Reich repeated. He gestured timidly toward the sky. “The stars. They’re gone.”

  Duffy looked at him curiously. “The what are gone?”

  “The stars!” Reich cried. “Look up at the sky. The stars are gone. The constellations are gone! The Great Bear… The Little Bear… Cassiopeia… Draco… Pegasus… They’re all gone! There’s nothing but the moon! Look!”

  “It’s the way it always is,” Duffy said.

  “It is not! Where are the stars?”

  “What stars?”

  “I don’t know their names… Polaris and… Vega…and… How the hell should I know their names? I’m not an astronomer. What’s happened to us? What’s happened to the stars?”

  “What are stars?” Duffy asked.

  Reich seized her savagely. “Suns… Boiling and blazing with light. Thousands of them. Billions of them…shining through the night. What the hell’s the matter with you? Don’t you understand? There’s been a catastrophe in space, the stars are gone!”

  Duffy shook her head. Her face was terrified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ben. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He shoved her away, turned and ran to the bathroom, and locked himself in. While he was hurriedly bathing and dressing, Duffy pounded on the door and pleaded with him. Finally, she broke off, and seconds later he heard her calling Kingston Hospital, using a guarded voice.

  “Let her start explaining about the stars,” Reich muttered, halfway between anger and terror. He finished his toilette and came out into the bedroom.

  Duffy cut the phone off hastily and turned to him.

  “Ben,” she began.

  “Wait here for me,” he growled. “I’m going to find out.”

  “Find out about what?”

  “About the stars!” he yelled. “The Christ almighty missing stars!”

  He flung out of the apartment and rushed down to the street. On the empty footway, he paused and stared up again. There was the moon. There was one brilliant red point of light… Mars. There was another… Jupiter. There was nothing else. Blackness. Blackness. Blackness. I hung over his head, enigmatic, unrelieved, terrifying. It pressed downward, by some trick of the eye, oppressive, stifling, deadly.

  He began to run, still staring upward. He turned a corner of the footway and collided with a woman, knocking her flat. He pulled her to her feet.

  “You clumsy bastard!” she screamed, adjusting her feathers. Then in an oily voice: “Lookin’ for a good time, pilot?”

  Reich held her arm. He pointed up. “Look. The stars are gone. Have you noticed? The stars are gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “The stars. Don’t you see? They’re gone.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, pilot. Cmon. Let’s have us a ball.”

  He tore himself away from her claws and ran. Halfway down the footway was a public v-phone alcove. He stepped in and dialed information. The screen lit and a robot voice spoke: “Question?”

  “What’s happened to the stars?” Reich asked. “When did it happen? It must have been noticed by now. What’s the explanation?”

  There was a click, a pause, then another click. “Will you spell the word, please.”

  “Star!” Reich roared. “S-T-A-R. Star!”

  Click, pause, click. “Noun or verb?”

  “God damn you! Noun!”

  Click, pause, click. “There is no information listed under that heading,” the canned voice announced.

  Reich swore, then fought to control himself. “Where’s the nearest Observatory to the city?”

  “Kindly specify city.”

  “This city. New York.”

  Click, pause, click. “The Lunar Observatory at Croton Park is situated thirty miles north. It may be reached by Jumper Route North Coordinate 227. The Lunar Observatory was endowed in the year two thousand—”

  Reich slammed down the phone. “No information listed under that heading! My God! Are they all crazy?” He ran out into the streets, searching for a Public Jumper. A piloted machine cruised past and Reich signalled. It swooped to pick him up.

  “Northco 227,” he snapped as he stepped into the cabin. “Thirty miles. The Lunar Observatory.”

  “Premium trip,” the driver said.

  “I’ll pay it. Jet!”

  The cab jetted. Reich restrained himself for five minutes, then began casually: “Notice the sky?”

  “Why, mister?”

  “The stars are gone.”

  Sycophantic laugh.

  “It’s not supposed to be a joke,” Reich said. “The stars are gone.”

  “If it ain’t a joke, it needs explaining,” the driver said. “What the hell are stars?”

  A blasting reply trembled on Reich’s lips. Before it could erupt, the cab landed him on the observatory grounds close to the domed roof. He snapped: “Wait for me,” and ran across the lawns to the small stone entrance.

  The door was ajar. He entered the observatory and heard the low whine of the dome mechanism and the quiet click of the observatory clock. Except for the low glow of the clock-light, the room was in darkness. The twelve-inch refractor was in operation. He could see the observer, a dim outline, crouched over the eyepiece of the guiding telescope.

  Reich walked toward him, nervous, strained, flinching at the loud clack of his footsteps in the silence. There was a chill in the air.

  “Listen,” Reich began in a low voice. “Sorry to bother you but you must have noticed. You’re in the star business. You have noticed, haven’t you? The stars. They’re gone. All of them. What’s happened? Why hasn’t there been any alarm? Why’s everybody pretending? My God! The stars! We always take them for granted. And now they’re gone. What’s happened? Where are the stars?”

  The figure straightened slowly and turned toward Reich. “There are no stars,” it said.

  It was the Man With No Face.

  Reich cried out. He turned and ran. He flew out of the door, down the steps and across the lawn to the waiting cab. He blundered against the crystal cabin wall with a crack that dropped him to his knees.

  The driver pulled him to his feet. “You all right, Mac?”

  “I don’t know,” Reich groaned. “I wish I did.”

  “None of my business,” the driver said, “but I think you ought to see a peeper. You’re talkin’ crazy.”

  “About the stars?”

  “Yeah.”

  Reich gripped the man. “I’m Ben Reich,” he said, “Ben Reich of Monarch.”

  “Yeah, Mac. I recognized you.”

  “Good. You know what I can do for you if you do me a favor? Money… New Job… Anything you want…”

  “You can’t do nothin’ for me, Mac. I already been adjusted at Kingston.”

  “Better. An honest man. Will you do me a favor for the love of God or anything you love?”

  “Sure, Mac.”

  “Go into that building. Take a look at the man behind the telescope. A good look. Come back and describe him to me.”

  The driver departed, was gone five minutes, then returned.

  “Well?”

  “He’s just an ordinary guy, Mac. Sixtyish. Bald. Got lines in his face kinda deep. His ears stick out and he’s got what they call a weak chin. You know. It kinda backslides.”

  “It’s nobody…nobody,” Reich muttered.

  “What?”

  “About thos
e stars,” Reich said. “You never heard of them? You never saw them? You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh God…” Reich moaned. “Sweet God…”

  “Now don’t warp your orbit, Mac.” The driver thumped him powerfully on the back. “Tell you something. They taught me plenty up at Kingston. One of them things was… Well, sometimes you get a crazy notion. It’s brand new, see? But you think you always had it. Like…oh…for instance, that people always had one eye and now all of a sudden they got two.”

  Reich stared at him.

  “So you run around yellin’: ‘For Chrissakes, where did they all of a sudden get two eyes everybody?’ And they say: ‘They always got two eyes.’ And you say: ‘The hell they did. I distinctly remember everybody got one eye.’ And by God you believe it. And they have a hell of a time knockin’ the notion outa you.” The driver thumped him again. “Seems to me, Mac, like you’re on a one-eye kick.”

  “One eye,” Reich muttered. “Two eyes. Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. I’ve had a rough time the last month. Maybe… Maybe you’re right. But—”

  “You want to go to Kingston?”

  “No!”

  “You want to stay here and mope about them stars?”

  Abruptly, Reich shouted: “What the hell do I care about the stars!” His fear turned to hot rage. Adrenalin flooded his system, bringing with it a surge of courage and high spirits. He leaped into the cab. “I’ve got the world. What do I care if a few delusions go with it?”

  “That’s the way, Mac. Where to?”

  “The Royal Palace.”

  “The which?”

  Reich laughed. “Monarch,” he said, and roared with laughter all the flight through the dawn to Monarch’s soaring tower. But it was a semi-hysterical laughter.

  The office ran around-the-clock shifts, and the night staff was in the last drowsy stages of the 12-8 shift when Reich bustled in. Although they had not seen much of him in the past month, the staff was accustomed to these visits, and shifted smoothly into high gear. As Reich went to his desk he was followed by secretaries and sub-secretaries carrying the urgent agenda of the day.

  “Let all that wait,” he snapped. “Call in the entire staff…all department heads and organizational supervisors. I’m going to make an announcement.”

  The flutter soothed him and recaptured his frame of reference. He was alive again, real again. All this was the only reality…the hustle, the bustle, the annunciator bells, the muted commands, the quick filling of his office with so many awed faces. All this was a preview of the future when bells would ring on planets and satellites and world supervisors would scuttle to his desk with awe on their faces.

  “As you all know,” Reich began, pacing slowly and darting piercing glances into the faces that watched him, “We of Monarch have been locked in a death-struggle with the D’Courtney Cartel. Craye D’Courtney was killed some time ago. There were complications that have just been ironed out. You’ll be pleased to hear that the road is open for us now. We can commence operation of Plan AA to take over the D’Courtney Cartel.”

  He paused, waiting for the excited murmur that should respond to his announcement. There was no response.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “some of you do not comprehend the size of the job and the importance of the job. Let me put it this way…in terms you’ll understand. Those of you that are city supervisors will become continental supervisors. Continental supervisors will become satellite chiefs. Present satellite chiefs will become planetary chiefs. From now on, Monarch will dominate the solar system. From now on all of us must think in terms of the solar system. From now on…”

  Reich faltered, alarmed by the blank looks around him. He glanced around, then singled out the chief secretary. “What the hell’s the matter?” he growled. “There been news I haven’t heard yet? Bad news?”

  “N-No, Mr. Reich.”

  “Then what’s eating you? This is something we’ve all been waiting for. What’s wrong with it?”

  The chief secretary stammered: “We… I… I’m s-sorry, sir. I d-don’t know what y-you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about the D’Courtney Cartel.”

  “I… I’ve n-never heard of the organization, Mr. Reich, sir. I…we…” The chief secretary turned around for support. Before Reich’s unbelieving eyes the entire staff shook their heads in mystification.

  “D’Courtney on Mars!” Reich shouted.

  “On where, sir?”

  “Mars! Mars! M-A-R-S. One of the ten planets. Fourth from the sun.” Gripped by the returning terror, Reich bellowed incoherently. “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Mars! Mars! Mars! A hundred and forty-one million miles from the sun, Mars!”

  Again the staff shook their heads. There was a rustle and they backed away slightly from Reich. He darted at the secretaries and tore the sheafs of business papers from their hands. “You’ve got a hundred memos about D’Courtney on Mars there. You’ve got to. My God, we’ve been battling it out with D’Courtney for the last ten years. We—”

  He clawed through the papers, throwing them wildly in all directions, filling the office with fluttering snow. There was not one reference to D’Courtney or Mars. There was neither any reference to Venus, Jupiter, the Moon, nor the other satellites.

  “I’ve got memos in my desk,” Reich shouted. “Hundreds of them. You lousy liars! Look in my desk…”

  He darted to the desk and yanked out drawers. There was a stunning explosion. The desk burst asunder. Fragments of flying fruit-wood slashed the staff, and Reich was hurled back against the window by the desk top which smacked him like a giant’s hand.

  “The Man With No Face!” Reich cried. “Christ Almighty!” He shook his head feverishly, and clung to the paramount obsession. “Where are the files? I’ll show you in the files… D’Courtney and Mars and all the rest. And I’ll show him, too. The Man With No Face… Come on!”

  He ran out of his office and burst into the file vaults. He tore out rack after rack; scattering papers, clusters of piezo crystals, ancient wire recordings, microfilm, molecular transcripts. There was no reference to D’Courtney or Mars. There was no reference to Venus, Jupiter, Mercury, the asteroids, the satellites.

  And now indeed the office was alive with hustle and bustle, annunciator bells, strident commands. Now the office was stampeding, and three burly gentlemen from ‘Recreation’ came trotting into the vaults directed by the bleeding secretary who urged: “You must! You must! I’ll take the responsibility!”

  “Easy now, easy now, easy now, Mr. Reich,” they said with the hissing noise with which hostlers soothe savage stallions. “Easy…easy…easy…”

  “Get away from me, you sons of bitches.”

  “Easy, sir. Easy. It’s all right, sir.”

  They deployed strategically while the hustle and the bustle increased and the bells sounded and voices far off called: “Who’s his doctor? Get his doctor. Somebody call Kingston. Did you notify the police? No, don’t. No scandal. Get the legal department, will you! Isn’t the Infirmary open yet?”

  Reich’s breath came and went in snarls. He overturned files in the path of the burly gentlemen, put his head down and bulled straight through them. He raced through the office to the outside corridor and the Pneumatique. The door opened; he punched Science-city 57. He stepped into the air-shuttle and was shot over to Science where he stepped out.

  He was on the laboratory floor. It was in darkness. Probably the staff imagined he had dropped to the street level. He would have time. Still breathing heavily, he trotted to the lab library, snapped on the lights and went to the reference alcove. A sheet of frosted crystal, cocked like a draft-board, was set before a desk chair. There was a complicated panel of control buttons alongside it.

  Reich seated himself and punched READY. The sheet lit up and a canned voice spoke from an over
head speaker.

  “Topic?”

  Reich punched SCIENCE.

  “Section?”

  Reich punched ASTRONOMY.

  “Question?”

  “The universe.”

  Click-pause-click. “The term universe in its complete physical sense applies to all matter in existence.”

  “What matter is in existence?”

  Click-pause-click. “Matter is gathered into aggregates ranging in size from the smallest atom to the largest collection of matter known to astronomers.”

  “What is the largest collection of matter known to astronomers?” Reich punched DIAGRAM.

  Click-pause-click. “The sun.” The crystal plate displayed a dazzling picture of the sun in speed-up action.

  “But what about the others? The stars?”

  Click-pause-click. “There are no stars.”

  “The planets?”

  Click-pause-click. “There is the earth.” A picture or the revolving earth appeared.

  “The other planets? Mars? Jupiter? Saturn…”

  Click-pause-click. “There are no other planets.”

  “The moon?”

  Click-pause-click. “There is no moon.”

  Reich took a deep trembling breath. “We’ll try it again. Go back to the sun.”

  The sun appeared again in the crystal. “The sun is the largest collection of matter known to astronomers,” the canned voice began. Suddenly it stopped. Click-pause-click. The picture of the sun began to fade slowly. The voice spoke. “There is no sun.”

  The model disappeared, leaving behind it an afterimage that looked up at Reich…looming, silent, horrible… The Man With No Face.

  Reich howled. He leaped to his feet, knocking the desk chair backward. He picked it up and smashed it down on that frightful image. He turned and blundered out of the library into the lab, and thence to the corridor. At the Vertical Pneumatique, he punched STREET. The door opened, he staggered in and was dropped 57 stories to the Main Hall of Monarch’s Science-city.

  It was filled with early workers hurrying to their offices. As Reich pushed past them, he caught the astonished glances at his cut and bleeding face. Then he was aware of a dozen uniformed Monarch guards closing in on him. He ran down the hall and with a frantic burst of speed and dodged the guards. He slipped into the revolving doors and whirled through to the footway. There he jerked to a stop as though he had ran into white hot iron. There was no sun.