“You’re sure that’s not your dog?” Alec demanded suspiciously. “As far as I can make out you’re the only chooser around.” He eyed Leo.
Leo started to answer, to explain to them what had happened; it was important that they understand. And then without harbinger of any kind the two evolved Terrans disappeared; the grassy plain, the monument, the departing dog–the entire panorama evaporated, as if the method by which it had been projected, stabilized, and maintained had clicked to the off position. He saw only an empty white expanse, a focused glare, as if there were now no 3-D slide in the projector at all. The light, he thought, that underlies the play of phenomena which we call “reality.”
And then he was sitting in the barren room in Palmer Eldritch’s demesne on Luna, facing the table with its electronic gadget.
The gadget or contraption or whatever it was said, “Yes, I’ve seen the monument. About 45 percent of the futures have it. Slightly less than equal chances obtain so I’m not terribly concerned. Have a cigar.” Once again the machine extended a lighted cigar to Leo.
“No,” Leo said.
“I’m going to let you go,” the gadget said, “for a short time, for about twenty-four hours. You can return to your little office at your minuscule company on Terra; while you’re there I want you to ponder the situation. Now you’ve seen Chew-Z in force; you comprehend the fact that your antediluvian product Can-D can’t even remotely compare to it. And furthermore–”
“Bull,” Leo said. “Can-D is far superior.”
“Well, you think it over,” the electronic contraption said, with confidence.
“All right,” Leo said. He stood stiffly. Had he actually been on the artificial Earth-satellite Sigma 14-B? It was a job for Felix Blau; experts could trace it down. No use worrying about that now. The immediate problem was serious enough; he still had not gotten out from under Palmer Eldritch’s control.
He could escape only when–and if–Eldritch decided to release him. That was an undisguised piece of factual reality, hard as it was to face.
“I’d like to point out,” the gadget said, “that I’ve shown mercy to you, Leo. I could have put an–well, let’s say a period to the sentence that constitutes your rather short life. And at any time. Because of this I expect–I insist– that you consider very seriously doing the same.”
“As I said, I’ll think it over,” Leo answered. He felt irritable, as if he had dunk too many cups of coffee, and he wanted to leave as soon as possible; he opened the door of the room, and made his way out into the corridor.
As he started to shut the door after him the electronic gadget said, “If you don’t decide to join me, Leo, I’m not going to wait. I’m going to kill you. I must, to save my own self. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Leo said, and shut the door after him. And I have to, too, he thought. Must kill you… or couldn’t we both put it in a less direct way, something like they say about animals: put you to sleep.
And I have to do it not just to save myself but everyone in the system, and that’s my staff on which I’m leaning. For example, those two evolved Terran soldiers I ran into at the monument. For them so they’ll have something to guard.
Slowly he walked up the corridor. At the far end stood the group of ’pape reporters; they had not left yet, had not even obtained their interview–almost no time had passed. So on that point Palmer was right.
Joining the reporters Leo relaxed, and felt considerably better. Maybe he would get away, now; maybe Palmer Eldritch was actually going to let him go. He would live to smell, see, drink in the world once more.
But underneath he knew better. Eldritch would never let him go; one of them would have to be destroyed, first.
He hoped it would not be himself. But he had a terrible intuition, despite the monument, that it could well be.
SEVEN
The door to Barney Mayerson’s inner office, flung open, revealed Leo Bulero, hunched with weariness, travel-stained. “You didn’t try to help me.”
After an interval Barney answered, “That’s correct.” There was no use trying to explain why, not because Leo would fail to understand or believe but because of the reason itself. It was simply not adequate.
Leo said, “You are fired, Mayerson.”
“Okay.” And he thought, Anyhow I’m alive. And if I’d gone after Leo I wouldn’t be, now. He began with numbed fingers gathering up his personal articles from his desk, dropping them into an empty sample case.
“Where’s Miss Fugate?” Leo demanded. “She’ll be taking your place.” He came close to Barney, and scrutinized him. “Why didn’t you come and get me? Name me the goddam reason, Barney.”
“I looked ahead. It would have cost me too much. My life.”
“But you didn’t have to come personally. This is a big company–you could have arranged for a party from here, and stayed behind. Right?”
It was true. And he hadn’t even considered it.
“So,” Leo said, “you must have wanted something fatal to happen to me. No other interpretation is possible. Maybe it was unconscious. Yes?”
“I guess so,” Barney admitted. Because certainly he hadn’t been aware of it. Anyhow Leo was right; why else would he not have taken the responsibility, seen to it that an armed party, as Felix Blau had suggested, emerged from P. P. Layouts and headed for Luna? It was so obvious, now. So simple to see.
“I’ve had a terrible experience,” Leo said, “in Palmer Eldritch’s domain. He’s a damned magician, Barney. He did all kinds of things with me, things you and I never dreamed of. Turned himself for instance into a little girl, showed me the future, only maybe that was unintentional, made a complete universe up anyhow including a horrible animal called a gluck along with an illusional New York City with you and Roni. What a mess.” He shook his head blearily. “Where you going to go?”
“There’s only one place I can go.”
“Where’s that?” Leo eyed him apprehensively.
“Only one other person would have use for my Pre-Fash talent.”
“Then you’re my enemy!”
“I am already. As far as you’re concerned.” And he was willing to accept Leo’s judgment as fair, Leo’s interpretation of his failure to act.
“I’ll get you, too, then,” Leo said. “Along with that nutty magician, that so-called Palmer Elditch.”
“Why so-called?” Barney glanced up quickly, and ceased his packing.
“Because I’m even more convinced he’s not human. I never did lay eyes on him except during the period under the effect of Chew-Z; otherwise he addressed me through an electronic extension.”
“Interesting,” Barney said.
“Yes, isn’t it? And you’re so corrupt you’d go ahead and apply to his outfit for a job. Even though he may be a wig-headed Proxer or something worse, some damn thing that got into his ship while it was coming or going, out in deep space, ate him, and took his place. If you had seen the glucks–”
“Then for chrissakes,” Barney said, “don’t make me do this. Keep me on here.”
“I can’t. Not after what you failed to do loyalty-wise.” Leo glanced away, swallowing rapidly. “I wish I wasn’t so sore in this cold, reasonable way at you, but–” He clenched his fists, futilely. “It was hideous; he virtually did it, broke me. And then I ran onto those two evolved Terrans and that helped. Up until Eldritch appeared in the form of a dog that peed on the monument.” He grimaced starkly. “I have to admit he demonstrated his attitude graphically; there was no mistaking his contempt.” He added, half to himself, “His belief that he’s going to win, that he has nothing to fear even after seeing the plaque.”
“Wish me luck,” Barney said. He held out his hand; they briefly, ritualistically shook and then Barney walked from his office, past his secretary’s desk, out into the central corridor. He felt hollow, stuffed with some unoccupied, tasteless waste-material, like straw. Nothing more.
As he stood waiting for the elevator Roni Fugate hurried up, breathless, her clear face animated with concern. “Barney–he fired you?”
He nodded.
“Oh dear,” she said. “Now what?”
“Now,” he said, “over to the other side. For better or worse.”
“But how can you and I go on living together, with me working here for Leo and you–”
“I don’t have the foggiest notion,” Barney said. The elevator had arrived, self-regulated; he stepped into it. “I’ll see you,” he said, and touched the button; the doors shut, cutting off his view of Roni. I’ll see you in what the Neo-Christians call hell, he thought to himself. Probably not before. Not unless this already is, and it may be, hell right now.
At street level he emerged from P. P. Layouts, and stood under the antithermal protective shield searching for signs of a cab.