Beyond the partition someone was asking, “A modern city?”
“Yes. Might be the Capital. It’s got a pylon like it.”
“Any other details?”
“Don’t ask me so many questions-it breaks into the revery…she’s moving again. We’re in a room…Lot of people, all adults. They’re talking.”
“What now, son?” Claude was saying. “Aw, she’s gone to that party again.”
Two observers, standing clear of the activity were whispering. “I don’t like it,” the short one said. “It’s ghastly.” “But it’s happening.”
“But don’t you realize what this means, Malcolm? Where can an unborn child get such concepts?”
“Telepathically from its mother, perhaps. The brother is certainly a telepath.”
“No, no, no! Not unless all our ideas of cerebration are mistaken. Conceptions are limited to experiences, or things similar to experiences. An unborn child has experienced nothing but warmth and darkness. It couldn’t have such conceptions.”
“Ummm.”
“Well-answer me!”
“You’ve got me-I can’t.”
Someone was saying to the receiver, “Can you make out any of the people present?”
He raised his headset. “Quit bothering me! You drive it out with my own thoughts when you do that. No, I can’t. It’s like dream images…I think it is a dream. I can’t feel anything unless she thinks about it.”
A little later. “Something’s happening…the dream’s gone. Uneasy…it’s very unpleasant…she’s resisting it…it’s…it’s…Oh, Great-it’s awful…it hurts! I can’t stand it!” He tore off his headset, and stood up, white and shaking. At the same instant Theobald screamed.
It was a matter of minutes only when a woman came out the door of Phyllis’ room and motioned to Hamilton.
“You can come in now,” she said cheerfully.
Felix got up from where he was kneeling with Theobald. “Stay with Uncle Claude, Sport,” he said, and went in to his wife.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Beyond This Horizon — ”
IT WAS nice to be able to come to the beach again. It was swell that Phyllis felt up to such little expeditions. It was pleasant to lie in the sun with his family and soak up comfort.
Things had not turned out the way he had planned, but things rarely did. Certainly he would never have believed all this a few years back…Phyllis and Baldy, and now Justina. Once he had asked Claude to tell him the meaning of life-now he did not care. Life was good, whatever it was. And the prime question had been answered for him. Let the psychologicians argue it all they pleased-there was some kind of life after this one-where a man might find out the full answer.
For the main question: “Do we get another chance?” had been answered by the back door. There was something more to the ego of a newborn child than its gene pattern. Justina had answered that, whether she knew it or not. She had brought memory patterns with her; she had lived before. He was convinced of that. Therefore, it was a dead-sure cinch that the ego went somewhere after the body disintegrated. Where, he would worry about when the time came.
It did seem extremely likely that Justina did not know what she had proved (and of course there was no way of asking her). Her telepathic patterns after she was born were meaningless, confused, as one would expect of a baby. Shock amnesia the psychologicians had decided to call it. Being born must be something like being awakened out of a sound sleep by a dash of cold water in the face. That would shock anybody.
He had not made up his mind yet whether he wanted to continue active in the Great Research, or not. He might just be lazy and raise dahlia bulbs and kids. He didn’t know. Most of it was pretty long distance stuff, and he personally was satisfied. Take that work Cliff was on-centuries and then some. Cliff had compared the job with that of trying to figure out the entire plot of a long stereostory from just one flash frame.
But they would finish it-some day. Theobald wouldn’t see it, but he would see more of it than Felix, and his son would see still more. His sons would roam the stars-no limit.
It was nice that Theobald seemed to have gotten over that ridiculous fixation identifying Justina with Old Carvala. True, he did not seem actually fond of the baby, but that was expecting a lot. He seemed more puzzled by her, and interested. There he was, leaning over the baby’s basket. He really did seem —