But what if they had locked him up-the whole world was an asylum and all of them his keepers.
A key scraped in the lock, and he looked up to see an attendant entering with a tray. “Here’s your dinner, sir.”
“Thanks, Joe,” he said gently. “Just put it down.”
“Movies tonight, sir,” the attendant went on. “Wouldn’t you like to go? Dr. Hayward said you could — ”
“No, thank you. I prefer not to.”
“I wish you would, sir.” He noticed with amusement the persuasive intentness of the attendant’s manner. “I think the doctor wants you to. It’s a good movie. There’s a Mickey Mouse cartoon — ”
“You almost persuade me, Joe,” he answered with passive agreeableness. “Mickey’s trouble is the same as mine, essentially. However, I’m not going. They need not bother to hold movies tonight.”
“Oh, there will be movies in any case, sir. Lots of our other guests will attend.”
“Really? Is that an example of thoroughness, or are you simply keeping up the pretense in talking to me? It isn’t necessary, Joe, if it’s any strain on you. I know the game. If I don’t attend, there is no point in holding movies.”
He liked the grin with which the attendant answered this thrust. Was it possible that this being was created just as he appeared to be-big muscles, phlegmatic disposition, tolerant, doglike? Or was there nothing going on behind those kind eyes, nothing but robot reflex? No, it was more likely that he was one of them, since he was so closely in attendance on him.
The attendant left and he busied himself at his supper tray, scooping up the already-cut bites of meat with a spoon, the only implement provided. He smiled again at their caution and thoroughness. No danger of that-he would not destroy this body as long as it served him in investigating the truth of the matter. There were still many different avenues of research available before taking that possibly irrevocable step.
After supper he decided to put his thoughts in better order by writing them; he obtained paper. He should start with a general statement of some underlying postulate of the credos that had been drummed into him all his “life.” Life? Yes, that was a good one. He wrote:
“I am told that I was born a certain number of years ago and that I will die a similar number of years hence. Various clumsy stories have been offered me to explain to me where I was before birth and what becomes of me after death, but they are rough lies, not intended to deceive, except as misdirection. In every other possible way the world around me assures me that I am mortal, here but a few years, and a few years hence gone completely-nonexistent.
“WRONG-I am immortal. I transcend this little time axis; a seventy-year span on it is but a casual phase in my experience. Second only to the prime datum of my own existence is the emotionally convincing certainty of my own continuity. I may be a closed curve, but, closed or open, I neither have a beginning nor an end. Self-awareness is not relational; it is absolute, and cannot be reached to be destroyed, or created. Memory, however, being a relational aspect of consciousness, may be tampered with and possibly destroyed.
“It is true that most religions which have been offered me teach immortality, but note the fashion in which they teach it. The surest way to lie convincingly is to tell the truth unconvincingly. They did not wish me to believe.
“Caution: Why have they tried so hard to convince me that I am going to die in a few years? There must be a very important reason. I infer that they are preparing me for some sort of a major change. It may be crucially important for me to figure out their intentions about this-probably I have several years in which to reach a decision. Note: Avoid using the types of reasoning they have taught me.”
The attendant was back. “Your wife is here, sir.”
“Tell her to go away.”
“Please, sir-Dr. Hayward is most anxious that you should see her.”