Thomas turned away in his chair and stared into the top of a lab centrifuge that was standing open. After a few seconds he reached out to move the lid to and fro several times on its horizontal swivel, then traced the contours of the drive shaft and gearing, all the time muttering unintelligibly. He was still amazed by machines and the products of machines. Regularity of any kind, such as the repeating architectural features or the mosaic patterns in the corridors of PAC, or the nested arrays of optronics chips and subassemblies in some of the equipment cabinets, fascinated him. The scientists had by now accepted VISAR’s interpretation that the instabilities of form that occurred in Phantasmagoria were due to the elongation of objects in their direction of motion, and that the daily cycles and changes with orientation followed from planetary rotation. Where or how such conditions could come about, however, were anybody’s guess.
“Do I sound like a demon?” Hunt asked after a pause. “Do I look like one?”
Thomas mumbled something, then went quiet and seemed to think it over. “Transformed!” he exclaimed suddenly. “They transform their agents to deceive us. We were warned.”
“Who warned you?”
“Take on forms, any forms . . . Beware appearances.”
“Who—”
“Spiral! Seek the spiral . . . Safe from external forms.”
“Have you ever seen a demon?”
“Mighty is the power of—” Thomas stopped and looked at Hunt oddly. “Seen many demons. They come from the gods. Bring signs. Punish those who disobey.”
“Describe one, then.”
“You . . . don’t believe? Will be punished. Burned, broken, torn in pieces. Smothered in serpents; crawling in worms; poisoned by scorpions; feast of maggots. Slashed by fangs, crushed by coils, blistered, bleeding, oozing, screaming . .
‘‘I’ll risk it.’’
“The demon of the sun god’s wrath comes from the sky. Head of eagle, body of lion, with dragon’s wings . .
Nixie, who was sitting on Hunt’s other side, nodded. “I know that one, too,” she said.
“He’s not crazy, then?” Hunt checked. “It does exist, the way he says?’’
‘‘Oh, yes.’’
The strange thing was that, monstrous as these Phantasmagorian creatures were, he should describe them as composites of familiar forms—Thomas was using the closest-fitting terms from his Baumerbequeathed vocabulary, which was German but converted to English by VISAR. For, if they had indeed evolved elsewhere, under such very different conditions, how could they have any similarities to the products of a completely independent line, which the principles of evolution said would never happen, even if the conditions had been the same? Even more remarkably, the form that Nixie remembered herself having in Phantasmagoria was human!—like the inhabitants in the other pictures that VISAR had extracted from her memories.
Interestingly, Thomas saw elements of familiar Terran animal forms, whereas Jevlenese saw elements of Jevlenese ones. It seemed that, since the full neural apparatus of the possessed person was taken over, the newly established alien entity could only express itself by triggering the conceptual elements that were already there—similar to the way in which a bell could be hit by different hammers, but would still produce the same tone. That would also explain the retention of language abilities, possibly. The explanation was compatible with both Danchekker’s theory and Hunt’s, and the issue between them remained unresolved.
“Suppose I told you that the gods don’t run this place that you’ve arrived in,” Hunt suggested. “They can’t touch you here. We’re under a different management. Would that—”
“Excuse me?” ZORAC interrupted.
“Yes, chief?”
“Sandy’s outside the lab, asking to come in.”
“Oh, sure.”
ZORAC disengaged the lock of the outer door, which was kept closed for security reasons, and Sandy entered a moment later.
“Hi,” Hunt greeted, leaning back in his seat and relaxing. “I thought you were helping Duncan count bootleg headworid shops.”
“He’s with Rodgar’s crew, counting computer throughputs. That’s not my line. I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
“As long as it’s not insurance, saving the environment, or talking to Jesus.”
“No. It’s about Gina.”
“I thought she went to Geerbaine with King and Kong to collect her things.”
“That’s why I wanted to catch you now—while she isn’t around.” Sandy glanced uncertainly at Nixie. “It’s, er, kind of private.”