Beyond The Barrier Part 14

Naismith whirled. "Teach me how to operate these door- ways," he said angrily.

"It's perfectly easy," she said, staring at him. "You just touch them with the opener and think about where you want to go. There'll be plenty of time for that-come on."

"Give it to me," he said, holding out his hand. After a moment she shrugged, put a smooth silvery object into his palm. It felt like plastic rather than metal; it was an elongated ovoid, fitting naturally into his hand so that the blunt tip of it projected.

Naismith reached out, touched the circle. The view sprang into being again. Prell had turned slightly, was ma.s.saging his forearms with his hands; there was an anxious expression on his face.

"One moment," said Naismith. He propelled himself through the opening, turned, touched it with the silvery object again; it blanked out. Instantly Naismith hurled himself at Prell.

The scientist turned, with a startled expression, as Naismith hurtled up. Naismith seized the man by the front of his robe, yanked Prell toward him. Terror sprang into the little man's eyes.

"What was my mistake?" Naismith demanded. "Tell me!"

He tightened his grip.

"Beautiful," the little man gasped. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's, making no sound, until Naismith impatiently shook him. "You're not-a Shefth . .. They have no-esthetic responses .. ." His face contorted with sudden malevolence. "I know what you are-help!-" His lungs filled, he opened his mouth to shout.

Naismith gripped his frail body with one arm, put the other forearm against his chin, pressed. There was a gurgling sound as the man's wind was cut off; then a dry, loud snap. The body sagged.

As Naismith turned, one of the ubiquitous machines drifted nearer. "For my information, sir," it said musically, "what has happened to Master Prell?""Uglies attacked him," said Naismith at random, moving away. "They appeared suddenly, killed Prell, then vanished."

"The automatic weapons did not fire," said the machine politely.

"They were out of order," Naismith said. He glanced around; none of the other floating robots seemed to have noticed any- thing. Could he disable this one, if he had to? Was it necessary?

"For my information, sir," said the robot, "which were out of order, the automatic weapons or the Uglies?"

"The weapons," Naismith told it, staring at the intricate design on the front of the box.

"Thank you, sir."

"For my information," Naismith said suddenly, "tell me, are you intelligent?"

"I am intelligent. I have a machine intelligence of plus forty."

Naismith frowned. "That was not what I wanted to know.

Are you-are you conscious?"

"I am not conscious, sir."

"Have you volition?"

"I have no volition, sir."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, sir." The machine dipped politely, turned, drifted away.

On the other side of the doorway, the girl was waiting.

Naismith slipped through, closed the circle quickly behind him.

"What took you so long?" she demanded.

"I had trouble finding the doorway again," he said. Breath- ing hard, he stared around at the crowded immensity behind her. The room was globular, and so vast that he could not estimate its extent. In a pale greenish haze, what seemed to be thousands of floating bodies were ranked: some coming and going, in a slow circling movement, others fixed. In a given group, large or small, all the heads would be pointing one way and the bodies s.p.a.ced about equally, like fish in.a school. Some were right-side up from his point of view, others upside down, others at all angles. It gave him a vertiginous feeling.

"Well, come on," said the girl.

Naismith hesitated. Things were moving top fast; he needed time to think. It was incredible that he had just committed a murder . . . This was not like the other time, when he hadblanked out and discovered later that he had killed Wells. This time, something in his own brain had said, Prell knows what I am. For the moment, he had known exactly what he had to do and why. Now it was fading. . . . In G.o.d's name, he thought suddenly, what kind of a monster am I?

Chapter Fourteen.

He was aware that the girl had taken his hand, was tugging him off toward the center of the sphere. After a moment Naismith cooperated, using his own director. They pa.s.sed a little shoal of brightly dressed people, then another. The room was full of the tiny sarcophagus-shaped robots, too, Naismith noticed. Then, with a shock, he realized that many of the floating bodies were those of green-skinned Uglies.

They were carrying things, moving this way and that on errands, their faces expressionless. Some of the brightly dressed people were self-propelled, like himself and Liss-Yani; but others were being moved from one place to another by Uglies or by robots. All of them wore garments like Prell's that seemed to hide stunted or atrophied legs.

Naismith and the girl rounded a huge, complex spray-shape of glittering golden material, through the branches of which tiny fish-shaped robots swam. On the further side, past a throng of floating people, Naismith caught sight of another huge object, this one as hideous as the other was beautiful.

It was the torso of a female Ugly, magnified to the size of a ten-story building. Gigantic and grotesque, it loomed over the glittering throng like a human body surrounded by mayflies.

Its arms were secured behind its back; its skin was pierced here and there by long needles, from which drops of dark blood were slowly oozing. Through the echoing talk and laughter, Naismith suddenly heard a hoa.r.s.e bawling sound-a groan, immensely amplified, that seemed to come from where the Ugly's head should be. The talk died away for a moment, then there was a scattering of laughter, and the hum of conversa- tion began again.

Naismith felt sickened. "What's that?" he demanded.

"A solid," the girl answered indifferently. "That's one of the rebel Uglies they captured. They made a big solid of her so everyone can watch. Look over there."

Naismith turned his head, saw a girl of Liss-Yani's caste entwined in a s.e.xual embrace with a slender, muscular man.

There was a little ring of spectators around them, and some languid applause.

"No, not them," the girl said impatiently. "Look farther up."

Naismith did so, and saw nothing of interest except still another woman of the Entertainer cla.s.s-dressed, this one, in long gossamer robes-drifting across the room with an en- tourage of young men and women. Her face was n.o.ble and sad; she looked straight ahead, without expression."That's Thera-Yani," said the girl in a muted voice. "Isn't she wonderful!"

"I don't see it," Naismith said. "Why wonderful?"

"She was the best-loved Yani in the City until last month, when the new mutations were released and the fas.h.i.+on changed.

Now there is nothing left for her. She took twenty-day poison, and she is saying her farewells to the City."

Naismith snorted, unimpressed. Up ahead, a green-skinned female servant was pus.h.i.+ng a tremendously fat old woman across the air by the small of her back. The Ugly, Naismith noticed, was wearing a bright metal collar around her neck; he now recalled seeing similar collars on other greenskins, A fragment of speech drifted back: "But why must all the Uglies die, Mistress? Haven't I always been good, haven't I always-"

"Oh, don't be tiresome, Menda. I explained to you before, I can't do anything about it. It's something to do with science.

Don't let me hear ..."

Now they were approaching the center of the enormous room, where the largest and most tightly packed ma.s.s of people floated. The shrill hum of conversation grew louder. Naismith's nerves p.r.i.c.kled; the closeness of all these people was subtly unpleasant.

Up ahead, a raucous female voice was screaming, like an articulate parrot's: the words were not distinguishable. Naismith and the girl moved nearer, threading their way patiently through the press, sometimes horizontally, sometimes in the vertical plane.

At last Naismith could make out the screaming woman. She hung in the middle of a little group of gaudily dressed people.

She was hugely, obscenely fat in her puffed and ornamented garment of white and scarlet. When she swung around, Nai- smith could see her body quake like a jelly inside the fabric.

Her face was sallow and lined, the eyes bright with madness.

"... come in here and tell me, who do you think you are, be silent and listen, I tell you I will not have any disrespect, why don't you observe the rules, don't talk to me, I tell you, listen . . ."

"Highborn, if you please," said a fat man in brown, with ruffles around his worried baby-pink face.

"... never in three hundred years have I been treated like this, be quiet, Truglen, I wasn't speaking to you, how can I bear these constant interruptions, Regg! Regg! where is the creature, Regg!"

"Yes, Highborn," said a green-skinned man, floating up beside her."Give me a pickup, can't you see the state I'm in?"

"Highborn," said another man, almost as fat as the first, "try to be calm. You may want to wait a little before you have another of those, recall that you've already had ten this period . .."

"Don't tell me how many I've had, how dare you!" She choked apoplectically, took something the greenskin was hold- ing out, swallowed it and glared, speechless for a moment. The servant handed her a tube leading to a flask of reddish fluid, and she sucked at it, her old face hollowing deeply and her mad eyes bulging.

Liss-Yani spoke to a robot, which glided forward and said politely, "Highborn, here is the Shefth you sent for."

Her head swiveled; she glared, spat out the drinking tube.

"And high time, too! Why can't I get any obedience any more, why do you all make things so difficult for me, do you want to kill me, is that it? Come forward, you, what's your name?"

Unwillingly, Naismith floated toward her. "Naismith," he told her.

"That's not a name, are you making a joke of me? What is his name, I say, what is this Shefth's name?"

"He does not know his name, Highborn," said the robot.

"He is to be referred to as 'that man.'"

"Be quiet!" screamed the fat woman. "You, are you a Shefth?"

"As you see, Highborn," said Naismith. A globe of watchers, most of them hugely fat, was beginning to form around them.

"Impertinence! When have I ever had to bear such insults!

Do you know how to kill a Zug, answer me directly, and mind your manners!"

"I don't know," said Naismith.

"He is the only Shefth we have, Highborn," said the baby- pink fat man, bending near.

"Well, I don't like him! Go back and get another one at once, do you hear me, take this one away, I won't have him, I won't!"

"Highborn, there is not enough time-" said the fat man.

"Time, tune, don't we manufacture time, how can you be so cruel and thoughtless, don't contradict me, I say, go and get another!"

Two or three of the men around the fat woman exchanged glances.

"Well, what's wrong with you all, are you deaf or paralysed,why can't I get a simple order obeyed in Mind's name, oh, why are you all..."

A chime sounded nearby; heads turned. "One moment," said the pink man anxiously. "Highborn, the message."

The woman fell silent, gaping and blinking. There was a movement in the globe of people as the pink man drifted back.

Now Naismith could see a yellow box-shaped machine with a lighted face, suspended in a transparent globe. The chime came again. The pink man tilted himself nearer, staring at the face of the machine. Naismith could see words forming in threads of white light, one, then a gap, two more, another gap ...

" 'Danger . . . Zug alive . . . send Shefth.'" The pink man paused, then straightened. He sighed. "That's all. Almost the same as last time."

"Well, it's clear enough, isn't it?" the woman screamed.

"Danger, send Shefth-to kill the Zug, that's clear, isn't it, what more do you want?"

"But the words left out, Highborn," the pink man said despairingly.

"Never mind, you're only trying to confuse me! They want a Shefth to kill the Zug-we want a Shefth, up there in the future, that's clear, isn't it? Well, then, what's the matter?"

There was motion in the globe of watchers; a hawk-nosed man, leaner than the rest, came plunging through and stopped before the fat woman. Behind him was a gnome in brown and red stripes, one of the scientists. "Highborn, this man says Prell has been killed in the workrooms!"

"Prell? Killed? Who killed him? Who is Prell?"

"The time-laboratory director, Highborn! His spine was broken, not more than five minutes ago."

"There is the man who did it!" blurted the gnome suddenly, pointing his finger at Naismith. Heads turned; there was agitated motion in the group.

"He did it? Then kill him, quickly, quickly, you idiots, before he does it to somebody else! What are you waiting for, kill him!" The woman grew yellow-faced and shrunken; her little eyes glistened with fear.

"One moment," said the hawk-faced man. "Autos-that man." Three of the dark, red-lensed machines drifted toward Naismith, taking up positions around him.

"Kill him!" squalled the woman.

"That can be done in a moment, after we ask one or two questions," said Hawknose. He turned to Naismith. "Don't make any sudden motion, or the guns will fire. Did you kill Prell?""No," said Naismith. He caught sight of Liss-Yani hovering in the background.

"Who did, then?"

"Uglies," said Naismith. "They came into view, killed him, disappeared again." Sweating, he tried to relax.

"You saw this?"