“I tsab u!”
The cry was followed by a thump, as if a heavy body had struck the floor.
Burton voice-activated other viewers in Loga’s room. There was no one there, unless the red puddles on the floor were Loga’s remains.
Burton sucked in his breath.
Seven screens sprang into light on Burton’s wall. Each held the image of a tenant. Alice’s big dark eyes were larger than normal, and her face was pale.
“Dick? That couldn’t have been Loga! But it sounded like him!”
“You saw him!” Burton said. “How could he have cried out? He was dead!”
The others spoke at once, so shaken that each had reverted to his or her native tongue. Even the unflappable Nur was speaking in Arabic.
“Quiet!” Burton shouted, raising his hands. Immediately thereafter, he realized that he had spoken in English. That did not matter; they understood him.
“I don’t know what happened any more than you do. Some of it couldn’t have happened, and so it didn’t. I’ll meet you all outside Loga’s apartment. At once. Bring your arms!”
He removed from a cabinet two weapons that he had thought he would never need again. Each had a butt like a pistol’s, a barrel three inches in diameter and a foot long, and at the firing end, a sphere the size of a large apple.
Alice’s voice came from her screen.
“Will the horrors never stop?”
“They never do for long,” he said. “In this life or that.”
Alice’s triangular face and large dark eyes were set in that withdrawn expression he disliked so much.
He said harshly, “Snap out of it, Alice!”
“I’ll be all right,” Alice said. “You know that.”
“Nobody is ever all right.”
He walked swiftly toward the door. Its sensory device would recognize him but would not open until he had spoken the code phrase, “Open, O sesame!” in classical Arabic. Alice, in her apartment, would be saying in English, ” ‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.”
The door closed behind him. In the corridor was a large chair made of gray metal and a soft scarlet-dyed material. Burton sat down on it. The seat and back flowed to fit the contour of his body. He pressed a finger on the black center of a white disc on the massive left arm of the chair. A long thin metal rod slid up out of the white disc on the right arm. Burton pulled the rod back, a white light spread out from under the chair, and it rose, stopping two feet above the floor when he eased the rod into the dead center position. He turned the rod; the chair rotated to face the opposite direction. Using the rod to control vertical movement, and pressing on the central black spot of the left disc to control speed, he moved the chair down the corridor.
Presently, floating swiftly past walls displaying animated murals, he joined the others. They hovered in their chairs until Burton had taken the lead, then followed him. Burton slowed the chair slightly when he entered a huge vertical shaft at the end of the corridor. With the ease of much practice, he curved the path of the chair up the shaft to the next level and out into another corridor. A hundred feet beyond the shaft, he halted the chair at the door to Loga’s apartment. The chair sank down onto the floor, and Burton got out. The others were only a few seconds behind him. Babbling, though they were not easily upset, they got out of their chair-vehicles.
The wall extended for three hundred feet from the shaft to an intersecting corridor. Its entire surface displayed a moving picture in what seemed to be three dimensions. The sky was clear. Far away was a dark mountain range. In the foreground was a jungle clearing in which was a village of dried-mud huts. Dark Caucasians in the garments worn by Hindus circa 500 b.c. moved among the huts. A slim, dark young man clad only in a loincloth sat under a bo tree. Around him squatted a dozen men and women, all intently listening to him. He was the historical Buddha, and the scene was not a reconstruction. It had been filmed by a man or woman, an Ethical agent who had passed for one of them, and whose camera and sound equipment were concealed in a ring on a finger. At the moment, their conversation was a slight murmur, but a codeword from a viewer could make it audible. If the viewer did not understand Hindustani, he could use another codeword to switch the language to Ethical.
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