Forget Me Nearly
Page 4
have her. He should have takenanother name--any other name would have been all right.
It wasn't because she was the first woman he'd seen, or the woman hehad first re-seen. There had been nurses, some of them beautiful, andhe'd paid no attention to them. But Luise Obispo was part of hisformer life--and he didn't know what part. The reactions were there,but until he could find out why, he was denied access to thesatisfactions.
From a very narrow angle, and only from that angle, he could see thatthere was still a light inside. It was dim, and if a person didn'tknow, he might pass by and not notice it.
His former observation about the Shelters was incorrect. Everydwelling might be occupied and he couldn't tell unless he examinedthem individually.
He stirred. The woman was a clue to his problem, but the clue itselfwas a far more urgent problem. Though his identity was important, hecould build another life without it and the new life might not beworse than the one from which he had been forcibly removed.
Perhaps he was over-reacting, but he didn't think so: _his new lifehad to include this woman_.
He wasn't equipped to handle the emotion. He stumbled away from thedoor and found an unoccupied dwelling and went in without turning onthe lights and lay down on the bed.
In the morning, he knew he had been here before. In the darkness hehad chosen unknowingly but also unerringly. This was the place inwhich he had been retrogressed.
It was here that the police had picked him up.
* * * * *
The counselor looked sleepily out of the screen. "I wish you peopledidn't have so much energy," he complained. Then he looked again andthe sleepiness vanished. "I see you found it the first time."
Luis knew it himself, because there was a difference from the dwellingLuise lived in--not much, but perceptible to him. The counselor,however, must have a phenomenal memory to distinguish it from hundredsof others almost like it.
Borgenese noticed the expression and smiled. "I'm not an eidetic, ifthat's what you think. There's a number on the set you're calling fromand it shows on my screen. You can't see it."
They would have something like that, Luis thought. "Why didn't youtell me this was it before I came?"
"We were pretty sure you'd find it by yourself. People who've justbeen retroed usually do. It's better to do it on your own. Our objectis to have you recover your personality. If we knew who you were, wecould set up a program to guide you to it faster. As it is, if we helpyou too much, you turn into a carbon copy of the man who's advisingyou."
Luis nodded. Give a man his adult body and mind and turn him loose onthe problems which confronted him, and he would come up with adultsolutions. It was better that way.
But he hadn't called to discuss that. "There's another person livingin the Shelters," he said. "You found her three weeks before you foundme."
"So you've met her already? Fine. We were hoping you would." Borgenesechuckled. "Let's see if I can describe her. Apparent age, abouttwenty-three; that means that she was originally between twenty-six orthirty-eight, with the probability at the lower figure. A good body,as you are probably well aware, and a striking face. Somewhatoversexed at the moment, but that's all right--so are you."
He saw the expression on Luis's face and added quickly: "You needn'tworry. Draw a parallel with your own experience. There were prettynurses all around you in retro-therapy, and I doubt that you noticedthat they were female. That's normal for a person in your position,and it's the same with her.
"It works this way: you're both unsure of yourselves and can't reactto those who have some control over their emotions. When you meet eachother, you can sense that neither has made the necessary adjustments,and so you are free to release your true feelings."
He smiled broadly. "At the moment, you two are the only ones who havebeen retroed recently. You won't have any competition for six monthsor so, until you begin to feel comfortable in your new life. By then,you should know how well you really like each other.
"Of course tomorrow, or even today, we might find another person inthe Shelter. If it's a man, you'll have to watch out; if a woman,you'll have too much companionship. As it is, I think you're verylucky."
Yeah, he was lucky--or would be if things were actually like that.Yesterday he would have denied it; but today, he'd be willing tosettle for it, if he could get it.
"I don't think you understand," he said. "She took the same name thatI did."
Borgenese's smile flipped over fast, and the other side was a frown.For a long time he sat there scowling out of the screen. "That's ahell of a thing to tell me before breakfast," he said. "Are you sure?She couldn't decide on a name before she left."
"I'm sure," said Luis, and related all the details of last night.
The counselor sat there and didn't say anything.
* * * * *
Luis waited as long as he could. "You can trace _us_ now," he said."One person might be difficult. But two of us with nearly the samename, that should stick out big, even in a population of sixteenbillion. Two people are missing from somewhere. You can find that."
The counselor's face didn't change. "You understand that if you werekilled, we'd find the man who did it. I can't tell you how, but youcan be sure he wouldn't escape. In the last hundred years there's beenno unsolved murder."
He coughed and turned away from the screen. When he turned back, hisface was calm. "I'm not supposed to tell you this much. I'm breakingthe rule because your case and that of the girl is different from anyI've ever handled." He was speaking carefully. "Listen. I'll tell youonce and won't repeat it. If you ever accuse me, I'll deny I said it,and I have the entire police organization behind me to make it stick."
The counselor closed his eyes as if to see in his mind the principlehe was formulating. "If we can catch a murderer, no matter how cleverhe may be, it ought to be easier to trace the identity of a person whois still alive. It is. _But we never try._ Though it's all right ifthe victim does.
"_If I should ask the cooperation of other police departments, theywouldn't help. If the solution lies within an area over which I havejurisdiction and I find out who is responsible, I will be dismissedbefore I can prosecute the man._"
Luis stared at the counselor in helpless amazement. "Then you're notdoing anything," he said shakily. "You lied to me. You don't intend todo anything."
"You're overwrought," said Borgenese politely. "If you could see howbusy we are in your behalf--" He sighed. "My advice is that if youcan't convince the girl, forget her. If the situation gets emotionallyunbearable, let me know and I can arrange transportation to anothercity where there may be others who are--uh--more compatible."
"But she's my wife," he said stubbornly.
"Are you sure?"
Actually Luis wasn't--but he wanted _her_ to be, or any variationthereof she would consent to. He explained.
"As she says, there are a lot of factors," commented the counselor."I'd suggest an examination. It may remove some of her objections."
He hadn't thought of it, but he accepted it eagerly. "What will thatdo?"
"Not much, unfortunately. It will prove that you two can have healthynormal children, but it won't indicate that you're not a member ofher genetic family. And, of course, it won't touch on the question oflegal family, brother-in-law and the like. I don't suppose she'daccept that."
She wouldn't. He'd seen her for only a brief time and yet he knew thatmuch. He was in an ambiguous position; he could make snap decisions hewas certain were right, but he had to guess at facts. He and the girlwere victims, and the police refused to help them in the only way thatwould do much good. And the police had, or thought they had, officialreasons for their stand.
Luis told the counselor just exactly what he thought of that.
"It's too bad," agreed the counselor. "These things often have anextraordinary degree of permanency if they ever get started."
If they ever got started! Luis reached out and turned off the s
creen.It flickered unsteadily--the counselor was trying to call him back. Hedidn't want to talk to the man; it was painful, and Borgenese hadnothing to add but platitudes, and fuel to his anger. He swung openthe panel and jerked the wiring loose and the screen went blank.
There was an object concealed in the mechanism he had exposed. It wasa neat, vicious, little retrogression gun.
* * * * *
He got it out and balanced it gingerly in his hand. Now he