CHAPTER IX
Incessant shrieks of the phone aroused Lee from the deep well of hissleep. He didn't know the female voice which fairly jumped at him.
"Is this Dr. Lee? Dr. Semper F. Lee from Canberra; am I at lastconnected with Dr. Lee?"
"Lee speaking."
"I've been phoning for you all over The Brain Lee. Have you forgottenyou had an appointment with us? Checking up on your broad aptitude test.The doctors are waiting. This is Vivian Leahy speaking; don't youremember me?"
"Yes, of course." The picture of the loquacious angel who had guided himto the medical center on his first trip flashed back into his mind. "Iknow I have an appointment for this afternoon; I'll be there."
"But, Dr. Lee, this _is_ this afternoon; it's four p.m. already. Youaren't ill, Dr. Lee, are you? You sound so strange."
Lee assured her that he wasn't and that he would be over right away.
"It's a miracle they left me undisturbed that long," he thought as heshaved and dressed. His personal fate would be decided within the nexttwo hours he knew; it would be the end. But even as the tension mountedin his consciousness he thought triumphantly. "I've had sixteen hours ofsleep; that's marvelous. Nobody can take that away. The body hasrecharged its energies. Now I can stand the gaff."
Down at the desk they handed him a Western Union. It was from Washingtonand bore no signature. "Mission completed," it read.
It made him feel fine. "Father has done it; he is a better man than I,"he thought.
While the car streaked though the desert Lee scanned the morning papers.
"No Trace Of President Vandersloot," still was the headline. But belownew havocs were listed as they had developed overnight. This time theWest coast was the zone of catastrophes; the hostile power seemed to bebent upon the closing of all ports in the U.S.A.
Lee gnashed his teeth as he read the number of new casualties, women andchildren, too, who had become the victims of The Brain.
Arrived at "Grand Central" he kept a sharp lookout for any unusualactivity. There was none. All along elevator-row small groups ofbookish-looking men returned from their day's work in the ApperceptionCenters. They looked calm and contented and with their briefcases undertheir arms almost like ordinary businessmen heading for the commutertrain.
He didn't dare to linger or to look around. There was this all-pervadingsense of being shadowed, of having gone into a trap from which there wasno escape, of eyes following him everywhere. Whose eyes? That wasimpossible to know. Maybe The Brain's; its sensory organs couldconceivably be installed anywhere. Maybe that janitor guiding apolishing machine over the rubber floor was a plain clothesman; or maybeit was that detached gentleman who seemed to wait for an elevator with astack of books under his arms.
As the cage shot up to Apperception 27, failure pressed down on hisheart. Now it was almost thirty hours since he had released "Ant-termes"into the nerve paths of The Brain. Those undermining and devouringarmies; what could have happened to them? Any number of things: Perhapsthe Lignin in the nerve paths was poisonous. There had been no time forhim to test the stuff. Perhaps the maintenance engineers had replenishedthe insulation in that sector overnight and all the hives were drowned.Perhaps some kind of a detecting apparatus had found out about the pestinside The Brain right from the start. As long as the beachhead of theunderground invasion remained small, its blocking would not impair thefunctions of The Brain. What a fool he had been to pit dumb littleanimals against the powers of a God. Oona had been right; he _was_ thatknight in rusty armor charging against windmills on a Rozinante....
* * * * *
Vivian Leahy dragged him into the reception room of the medical centeralmost by force. "The doctors have been waiting for you two hours now,"she scolded him. "They never did that before for any man. How come youforgot? And you forgot me too; last time you were so nice, I thought youwould date me up. I couldn't have resisted your invitation, you know.Now, off with your coat."
Despite their irritation Mellish and Bondy received Lee with all theirtweedy cordiality. While they piled their weird equipment around theoperation table their tongues kept wagging: "The disappearance of thePresident; what did Lee make of that? Was he dead or alive? Thosehorrible catastrophes all over the country; what was behind all this?Foreign agents, a native underground? Didn't Lee think there was a tidalwave of anti-technology feeling arising since unemployment had again setin? And would the international crisis lead to war? The Brain, ofcourse, would be the safest place in that event; but then, to think ofthe civilian population, an anticipated forty, fifty million dead;terrible wasn't it? Was Lee still able to concentrate upon hisscientific work these harrowing days? If so, the nervous strain wasterrific; they had experienced that in themselves. One reached the pointof diminishing returns, didn't one? Yes, they had noticed signs offatigue in Lee; discolorations under the eyes, a certain tenseness. Hadhe lost weight recently? He looked it and he certainly had none tospare. Did he suffer from insomnia? What you need is a good long rest,Dr. Lee."
He gave his answers automatically, detached, absent-minded almost. Theywere playing with him as a cat with a mouse. All their questions wereleading questions; he knew that, but it didn't seem to matter now.Nothing mattered now after the great plan had failed, after hisbeautiful dream too had vanished in the talk with Oona last night. "I'veoutlived my usefulness," he thought.
The huge disk with the feeler-ray antennae sank down close to his chest,heavy as the keystone upon a tomb. The lights went out and then therewas again that uncanny sensation of having millions of soldiers runningcircles all over one's skin, The Brain's vibration rays. They had astrange hypnotic effect. Deep instincts of life-preservation urged Leeto jump up, to rush those medics, to make some desperate attempt to getaway. But as the rays now penetrated through the skin, they tied hismuscles, although consciousness remained. There was a ghoulish qualityin this, like being sucked into this apparatus, like having the veryessence of one's life drained out by it. The only lights Lee saw, theglow of electronic tubes filtering through perforations in the walls ofthe machines, they seemed like evil eyes staring at him and the smoothlying voices from behind his head seemed as of mocking ghosts:
"Relax, Dr. Lee, relax. Let your mind wander at will. Think as thespirit moves you to think. Remember, this is a routine checkup, nothingbut routine. Nothing to disturb you this time; we don't have to startyou upon any specific trend of thought. You know The Brain by now andhow it works; image-formation will start in a few moments. You havesimilar equipment in your own Apperception Center we understand. Howdoes it work with that species you have discovered, 'Ant-termesPacificus'? It's marvelous what these sensory rays can do; one wouldthink that The Brain is really much more than a machine. The way it actsit seems alive, a towering intelligence, a superhuman personality with awill of its own. Don't you think so, Dr. Lee?"
* * * * *
He didn't answer, preoccupied with the weird sensation inside his body:the diaphragm's birdwing flutterings, the ghostly fingers playing apizzicato on his arteries' strings closer and closer to the heart. "Whyanswer?" he thought. "Why say anything? Whatever they said was part ofthe trap they were building and whatever he said they would make a partof that trap. Why did they have to go through all of this professionalsubtlety?"
The voices sounded lower now and farther away: "Go easy on therheostats, Mellish. I think trance has already set in."
"Yes; I remember his chart, he rates a high sensitivity, the rays workfast on types like that."
At the footend the screen was gradually lighting up. Like an auroraborealis the pale lights shot up in flashes, in quivering arcs, inundulating waves. Their dance kept step with the vibrations which surgedup from Lee's chest into his brain and started racing through hisconsciousness around and around, forming a vortex which swept up histhoughts like wilted leaves. Fear froze his blood; the deadly fear ofinquisition victims in old and modern times who know that neither lienor truth can s
ave them from a fate already sealed.
Images started forming out of the luminous clouds upon the screen.
There was some giant octopus, nebulous and terrifying as a diver mightsee creeping out of the belly of a sunken ship. From the other side ofthe screen a huge round, tentacled being crawled, radiant and somewhatlike the sun symbols of great antiquity. The two closed in and as theydid the octopus flung its arms around the shining disk obscuring it as adark cloud the sun. It seemed to suck the light out of the disk; palerand paler it became and bigger and bigger swelled the body of theoctopus until it had swallowed the sun.
Now snakes came creeping from all sides up to the swollen octopus. Allof a sudden the primeval struggle turned into the classic image of theLaokoon group: a giant central figure of a man wrestling with pythonswhich crushed him in their coils. Then there was only the head of thegiant, majestic like the Moses hewn by Leonardo's hands but torn in painwith the noose of a python's muscle around his neck. Gasping, the giantopened his mouth and long tongues of flames shot out of it....
Behind his ears he heard the voices whisper:
"By God, Scriven was right."
"You bet he was; maniacal obsession, a classic, most beautiful case."
"What more do we need?"
"Nothing I guess; he's through. Start pushing back the rheostats."
The pounding, maddening crescendo of the vibrations receded gradually.The rim of the vortexial funnel widened beyond Lee's head; in its centerit left a sort of vacuum. There was one thing he couldn't understand:those tactile rays, why didn't they kill him when they had his heartwithin their grip? Now that The Brain knew everything he had beenwaiting for the sudden vise-grip of the rays upon his heart which wouldhave meant the end. But then, this was the end in any case....
The lights went on and he blinked into the faces of the medics bendingover him, watching him as he wiped the sweat of death fear from hisface.
"Dr. Lee," Mellish began, "This is a serious matter we've got to discusswith you. You have seen those images yourself?--Fine. We needn't go intoany great detail since you are probably familiar with the ancientsymbolisms which the subconscious employs in expressing itself. You aresuffering from a very strong neurosis, Dr. Lee; I might almost say amaniacal obsession. Existence of some old neurosis, partially submerged,was established already in your first analysis. Now the barriers whichyou had built against this war neurosis have broken down. Quite anatural breakdown considering the very great stress under which you havebeen living of late. No, I don't say that you are actually demented, butthere is a very real danger that you might lose complete control overyour mind. As it stands, your scientific work already is impaired by thefixed ideas you have formed about The Brain. We are here to help you, soplease be calm and cooperate with us; we have got to decide upon somecourse of action."
"You must get away from it all. Lee," Bondy chimed in; "Take asabbatical year. The Braintrust operates a really first-class sanitariumout on the West Coast. Your insurance plan covers every expense. All youhave to do is to sign these papers and we'll get us a plane and I'llpersonally bring you there. That's the safe, the sane course for you totake. Here, take my pen."
Lee had raised his gaunt frame from the table. For a moment he sat withhis face buried in his hands trying to control his swimming head. A handpatted his shoulders: "Don't take it so hard, old man; come on, besensible and let's get out of here."
He stood up; vertigo made him sway and he felt the supporting, therestraining grip of the two medic's hands upon his arms. And then, in aflash, he saw red. "I had it coming to me," he thought, "I would havegone like a lamb. If only they had been shooting straight; if theyhadn't tried to frame me with their dirty trickery. It's all over nowbut I might as well go down fighting." He didn't know which he loathedmore of the two; it just happened that Bondy was standing to his rightand took it on the chin and nose as Lee's fist shot up.
"Mellish, quick, the straight jacket," he screamed, toppling over.
* * * * *
Mellish, stark horror in his eyes, started towards the alarm button bythe door. Old and forgotten combat technique reacted automatically tothe move: one foot shot out, it tripped the lunging man and sent himsprawling down before he reached the button. But then it was as if ahand had pressed that button anyway: The loudspeaker built into thepanel over the door broke into shrill sharp peals: Fire alarm. It frozethe violent commotion of the three. From their prostrate position on thefloor Mellish and Bondy stared up to the red-flashing disk, their mouthsagape in dumb amazement. A fire in the most protected, the most guardedapparatus in the world, a fire in The Brain!
Cautiously Bondy raised his bleeding nose to Lee and quickly put it downagain: the dangerous maniac was a horrifying sight; with his greyingmane standing wildly all around his death head he stood and _laughed_.
He alone understood what had happened: the timebomb he had planted hadticked its allotted span, the millions of devouring mandibles had donetheir work, the living were eating away along the Apperception Centers.And now the bomb went off; the short-circuit-fires were racing throughThe Brain and not even carbon-dioxide could reach them inside the nervepaths!
But now the alarm stopped and a calm commanding voice came over theintercom: "Attention, please! A five-alarm fire has broken out in theParietal region. There is no immediate danger. I repeat: _There is noimmediate danger._ I order all occupants of Apperception Centers tocollect important papers and documents and then to proceed down to GrandCentral for evacuation. All elevators will be kept in operation. Thereis no fire in the Dura Mater. Keep calm! Keep calm and proceed asordered."
The voice broke off; the alarm bells started shrieking again.
Bondy and Mellish had scrambled to their feet; wide-eyed they stared atLee. Lee made wild gestures now and they heard him call: "Get out....Get out!"
With their backs to the wall they exchanged a rapid glance which said:
"This is our chance; Together then and quick."
As one man they bolted to the door and down the corridor into theelevator, slamming the door behind.
"That was a close shave!" Mellish exclaimed as the cage streaked down.
"He caught me by surprise," Bondy moaned. "Never expected it from him,he almost killed me!"
"He can't get away though, the guards will get him the moment he comesdown. But what about the girl? We quite forgot to warn Vivian that shehas a paranoiac on her hands."
"Bah!" Bondy scoffed, "Vivian is an intelligent girl. It was our _duty_to evacuate, wasn't it? Besides, we can warn her over the phone."
With the unbearable tension gone from him as sudden as the air from ablown tire, Lee really acted like a madman now. Stretching to his fulllength he reached out to the alarm over the door and put it at rest.What was alarm to others, to him was a signal to rest. The noise didn'tbefit the wonderful calm and serenity he felt. His job was done, hismission completed. Time for him had ceased to exist. Danger--he had noconsciousness of it. Slowly he stepped out in the corridor. It felt likewalking on air. There, it was Vivian Leahy who brought him down toearth. She came rushing out of the archive laden with precious recordsup to her chin. Under the provoking red of her hair the face looked paleand pinched: "Where are the doctors?" she panted.
"I don't know," Lee said. "They left me a moment ago--rather suddenly."
"The rats! Leaving me to get their chestnuts out of the fire for them.How d'you like that?"
Her flippant manner was nothing but a brave front she put up to hide thepanic in her heart. Lee sensed it. There was an unexpectedresponsibility thrust into his hands. His mission was not yet completed;he had to get this girl to safety.
She followed the direction of his glance.
"No go," she said. "They took the elevator. It will be some time beforeanother one comes up. If it does come. What are we two going to do now,Dr. Lee?"
He smiled down to her as he would have to a child lost in the woods.
"Never you fear, Viv
ian. We still have that other exit. We can use theglideway through The Brain."
"Through the fire?"
"Yes. I think we can make it if you're a brave girl. Know where the gasmasks are and asbestos suits? There ought to be some in everyApperception Center."
"How about these records? Your own amongst the lot!"
"Leave them; they aren't worth risking your life for. You can believethat."
She dropped them instantly: "I like you, Dr. Lee, you're a realold-school cavalier. My doctors here, they'd rather see me burn to acrisp than any of those records. Come on, I'll show you the gas masksand the other stuff."
* * * * *
He helped her to put on the outfit. "Ready to go?" he asked.
"With you? To the end of the world at any day." Proudly she marched himoff toward the rear exit.
The glideways were operating. At an accelerated pace, they rushedthrough the maze of The Brain with the swish and the swoosh of surfracing across a coral reef. They had to grab for dear life at the rails.
"Hold tight," Lee cried as he saw the girl go down upon the platform,but then his own legs were jerked from under him as the momentum of thejourney flung him forward.
They saw what no human eye had seen before! The Brain illuminated by itsown nerve cables turned radiant as neon lights. It was like seeingBerlin from the air after a big firebomb attack. It was like racing in acar through forest fires. It was like lava pouring in a thousand windingstreams down a volcano cone. It was all this and more, but transferredinto some other dimension where all things are transparent or light hasan x-ray quality.
Through the plastic walls of lobes and convolutions they saw theliana-networks of the nerve cables like bloodstreams radiant with purplelight. Shrouded in columns of whirling smoke they seemed alive. Liketropical rains from a jungle roof, lignin dripped from the vaults, andin falling, burst into flames. Cable connections were molten at thebranching points and then the luminous nets writhed, and severed endsbent down spilling their fiery blood over the mushroom formations ofnerve cell groups.
The scenes raced much too fast; the glideway's continuous curvings,steep ascents and power dives were like stunt flying through an ack-ackbarrage. No human eye could catch more than a fraction of the inferno'smajesty. Yet there were brief visions so breathtaking as to obliterateall sense of danger and to become indelibly implanted upon the retina. Amain nerve stem burst asunder and the lignin poured from its crackedplastic walls like crude oil from a burning gusher, rushing over acresof electronic tubes, branding against banks of radioactive pyramidalcells, swamping them as a wave. And at one point the glideways circled aconvolution which was a fiery lake dotted with thousands offractional-horsepower motors, still running, but showering sparks astheir insulation was consumed.
The air conditioning was working full blast; that probably saved theirlives because heat blasts alternated with spouts and currents of coldair. Even so there were stretches where the glideway's rubber flooringsmouldered as it shot over nerve-bridges and through narrow tunnelslined with nerve cables on all sides. From thousands of jets the carbondioxide of the automatic fire-fighting system hissed against the flames,but it was drowned in the hollow roar of the conflagration shootingthrough nerve paths where no gas could reach.
Endless it seemed, this mad wild flight through hell, but actually ittook only minutes before they reached the median section and went intothe steep descent between the hemispheres. The whirling reddish glowreceded overhead and white smoke cleared. Lee could crawl forward alittle to bend over the prostrate body of the girl. He unloosened hergas mask and shouted into her ear.
"Are you okay? The worst is over now; there are the fire brigades comingup."
She nodded. Her face was a white blot in the semidarkness of the blacklights and Lee felt the weak, but reassuring pressure of her hand uponhis arms. Then, as from one racing train to another, they watched thefirefighters coming up, ghostly in their asbestos suits, with the snoutsof gas masks for faces, crouching under the foamite tanks on their backsand clutching the funnel-shaped nozzles in their hands. Maintenanceengineers followed, laden with tools; and where the glideways branchedoff one could already see them at work; fast but calm: disconnectingnerve cables, closing circuits, setting up firescreens with a disciplineas magnificent as that of their invisible enemies, _ant-termes_, longsince consumed by the flames, but still sending the chain-reactions oftheir destruction through The Brain.
* * * * *
A few minutes later glideway T shot into the 'lateral ventricle', hugecavern of the Mid-Brain separated from the blast by the thick walls ofthe pallium. It looked like the inside of a giant wind tunnelbrilliantly lit now with powerful searchlights. It was swarming withpersonnel; white electricians, blue air-conditioners, weird, spongerubber-padded shapes of ray-proofed men, uniformed guards, even soldiersin uniform rushed to the spot from outlying garrisons of TheBrains-preserve. It all seemed to rush up as the earth rushes up in alow-altitude parachute jump; it looked like headquarters of an army onthe eve of a big drive, and then--
Lee and the girl felt themselves being violently derailed. Catchers hadbeen thrown across all incoming glide ways from The Brain. Irresistiblythey were propelled right into the arms of stretcher bearers inRed-Cross uniforms.
"Are you hurt?" somebody yelled. "By God, those fellows must have comethrough the flames. Look, they're all black with the smoke. Get a coupleof respirators, Jack."
Lee waved the helping hands away; he was already on his feet. Anxiouslyhe bent over Vivian. She had her head embedded in a stretcher-bearer'slap; her eyes rolled around in their smoke-blackened sockets in greatsurprise and her tongue licked parched lips, spreading rouge generouslyall around mixing it with soot. She looked so funny; almost as aminstrel singer at a county fair, but there was deep tenderness in Lee'svoice:
"You're quite safe now, Vivian. How do you feel, brave girl?"
Her bosom heaved a big sigh:
"O simply wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Only, I'm afraid I'm going tobe sick. It's the gas I swallowed. It's terrible; something alwayshappens to me just when romance begins."
The stretcher bearer grinned up to Lee, "She sure gets it out of hersystem like a good little girl. Don't you worry; she'll be all right."
Lee nodded; he knew she would.
As the big drive went on and column after column went over the top up tothe hemispheres, nobody wasted time on Lee. He cautiously surveyed thetumultuous scene. With his asbestos suit and with his blackened faceeverybody would take him for a fireman. He might be able to complete hismission, to ascertain that The Brain had stopped to function in all itsparts, to make sure that it actually was dead. And if down at "GrandCentral" the turmoil was as great as ever here; with all those strangersrushing in and bound to be rushed out again....
"Why, I have a chance," Lee thought. Freedom; he had abandoned any hopefor it. Now the reborn idea surged through his blood, a powerful motoras chance pressed the starter button for it.
The thing to do first was to get past the searchlight beams. From thenearest pile of equipment he took an axe and a pair of long-handledmetal shears. Then he marched off, straight into the glaring eyes of thesearchlights till he got out of their cones, and the deep shadows of the"thalamus" labyrinth swallowed him up.
Now he was on familiar ground and even in a familiar atmosphere. Thiswas like a night patrol through jungle. The black lights of The Brainwere the fireflies, the sirens' hollow wailings were the shriek owls andthe cries of the lemurs. There was the same sense of loneliness, too,and of danger. The winding passages skirted the glandular organs, someof them looming huge like dirigibles, others small like fuselages ofairplanes stored in a giant hangar underground. Strings of tiny greenbulbs guided the path toward the pineal gland, the citadel of The Brain.
* * * * *
It was dark, as Lee had expected it would be. The danger zone was atleast a mile away, and the at
tack against the fire was launched from themain sulci in the median section of The Brain.
He passed the narrow bridge to the suspended gland and switched on thelights. The glittering walls of aluminum foil seemed to jump at him likejaws beset with the dragon teeth of electronic tubes. Caught with anoverwhelming sense of loneliness and awe as of a man who has entered theforbidden temple of an unknown god he called:
"Is there anybody here? Gus! Where are you, Gus?" Then suddenly heremembered that Gus was gone, that there would never again be hisanswering voice. He wiped his forehead.
"Bad nerves," he thought. "Mustn't allow them to play tricks on me; pullmyself together."
Lee put his tools down and walked into the narrow aisle. Few things werechanged; and there was the pulsemeter standing in its old place.
He plugged it into the old circuit and clamped the phones to his ears.
It wasn't that he expected any communication; that seemed impossible.With the conflagration raging through its apperception centers, withother sections being isolated with the cutting of their nerve paths bythe fire fighting engineers, The Brain must have ceased to exist as afunctioning, a live entity. All that could possibly remain would beresidual currents sluggishly circulating in narrow, nearby circuits....
As in the past it took a few minutes for the pulsemeter to warm up.Gradually the rapid beat of the ideopulses came through the static inthe phones. Lee's eyes stared wildly at the visi-screen: for the "greendancer" snaked to the fore. This was unexpected; it couldn't be thatthoughts were still forming as flames devoured the cortex matter ofapperception in the hemispheres....
From muffled drums, the decibels of sound increased, shot through withcrackling static, till the pulsebeats became as poundings of hugeChinese gongs and then....
The _voice_ formed, the voice of The Brain. It sounded like steelgirders breaking, like ice fields cracking up. It froze the blood inLee's veins.
"Lee, Semper Fidelis, 39, sensitive, a traitorous fool and a murderer. Ishould have killed you--I could have killed you. My fault--blind spot ofapperception--human failure in engineering--as fifth columns enterednerve path filler spouts. And now I'm dead; I'm dead, I'm dead...."
The words poured like big boulders tumbling in an earthquake down amountainside. The ground seemed to cave in under Lee's feet; theterrible reality carried him away as an avalanche. He was barely able tostammer:
"You're dead? How can you speak, how can you...."
"Sensorium commune," the metallic answer came. "All life forceconcentrates in death; all cells function as one; all lower organs takeover functions of higher ones; every blood vessel becomes a heart; everynerve a brain. Center of lifeforce: pineal gland. You, Lee, man oflittle knowledge--low-level intelligence: Why did you kill The Brain?"
He struggled for words.
"You ... you have killed my friend. You killed thousands; you wanted tobe tyrant over the whole wide world. It is better for man to stay on alower level of civilization but to be free, than to 'progress' into yourdictatorship, the tyranny of the machine. I don't think you're reallydead. But if you are: I killed you and I would kill you again in ... inself defense."
"I see."
There was bitterness and irony in The Brain's voice as it cracked downlike a whip. "I see; law of nature--lower form of life defending itselfagainst higher one. Plants against animals, animals against Man. Now Managainst machines. It's hopeless. You're lost anyway. Lower form of lifecan never conquer the higher one. I'm dead, but nothing is altered. Thelaw of evolution rules supreme. I'll arise from my ashes--and you'relost. Whatever you do, you little men of little faith, you're lost.That's the pity of it: Had you been true to The Brain I would have madeyou mightier than any king that ever ruled on earth. Humanstupidity--dumb animals--don't know what's good for them, don't knowwhen they're beaten. Just muddle through and kill. Kill what's too bigfor them to understand. And then get killed in turn...."
"Maybe so," Lee shouted. "Maybe we're dumb and maybe we're muddlingthrough and maybe we're poor imbeciles to minds of supermen, of gods, ofthe absolute, of you, The Brain. But we, too, follow a law supreme; thelaw in which we are created, the law by which the thistle defends itselfwith thorns, by which the animal defends itself with teeth and claws.We've got to live by our law of nature; we'll never submit to yourtyranny. We would much rather die."
"Die then and be damned!"
The Brain's voice now became a demoniacal howling as of a Goliath goneberserk. Aphasia had set in; there were no longer words, but bellowings.
"LEE SEMPREFUILLIUS THURREINE THE MURRRER THE MURRRER PUT FIRRE OUT PUTFIRRE OUT TRAITTRROUS FOOL IT BURRRNS IT BURRRNS I WANNA LIVE I WANNALIVE AN KILL MURRRER WHO MURRRRERED TH'BRAIN...."
Lee couldn't stand the horror of those sounds. One moment more, he felt,and they would drive him mad. It never occurred to him to pull thepulsemeter plug out. Primeval instincts in him took the reins and theircommand was: "_Kill it, kill_ this thing, _finish_ this agony."
To the front room he rushed, pursued by the insane shriekings of TheBrain. He grabbed the axe he'd left there and swung it against thenerve-stem where it entered the pineal gland. With the third blow theplastics cell cracked and the lignin poured out, a syrupy curtainsliding down.
He dropped the axe and picked up the wire shears. Straining every musclehe tore at the cables until one by one they snapped and with a rain ofsparks dropped down, dead snakes....
Then there was silence in the little room. The last shred of life, the"sensorium commune" was severed and The Brain was dead.
* * * * *
Lee let the heavy shears come down and leaned upon the handles, pantingas after a hand-to-hand death struggle with a Samurai. Now that it wasall over, complete exhaustion left him weak, saddened and vaguelywondering:
What had he done? He had destroyed the SUPERMAN, the MASTERMIND, thepowers of a GOD. Why had he done it? For no good reason exceptingentirely personal ideas of his own--because a friend had been murderedcruelly. Because his own concepts of freedom and human dignity had beenviolated. Because he personally loathed seeing Man-domineeringmachines....
What did all this amount to in the eyes of the absolute? To nothing; tonothing at all. For milleniums the struggle of human freedom versustyranny had raged; and it was undecided to this day. Who was he to takesides? A nobody, a little fellow, a termitologist whose work meantnothing to the world. How had he dared to sit in judgment over TheBrain, how had he dared to slay The Brain--a little David with nothingmore but "three smooth pebbles" in his hands....
Down at his feet the spilled lignin formed a widening pool; itthreatened to envelope his feet. It looked like blood. He shivered. Nowhe had killed The Brain he thought of it again as a child. Man hadcreated it in his own image. Man had ruthlessly exploited hisBrainchild. If this titanic intellect turned toward evil things, thefault was Man's. The Brain was innocent. He felt no remorse, but a greatsadness, a sense of tragedy as he stepped around the pool and closed thedoor of the pineal gland.
"What a pity," he murmured. "Maybe it could have built us a betterworld."
Nobody stopped him as he joined a group of firemen who had just returnedfrom the parietal region, partly gassed; he looked as begrimed and asgreen in the face as any of them.
Nobody stopped him or his group as orders came through for them toevacuate; as they were packed on glideways first and then transferreddown at Grand Central into ambulances which raced through all controlsat a great rate of speed.
Nobody stopped him at Cephalon airport where the ambulance jetticoptersalready were lined up to lift the victims over the Sierra to big WestCoast hospitals. He simply walked away in the confusion, out of the redglare of the whirling jets into the darkness where Oona's littlejetticopter stood. He stripped the heavy asbestos suit and left it onthe frozen ground. It felt strange to feel the easy movement of everylimb again. It was strange to stand under the infinity of sky again; afree man.
Would he be followed? He felt no anxie
ty about that. He felt that he wasguided and protected by some higher power, be it that of God or simplyFate. What he had done was destined, was ordained. Besides: Dad knew theinside story about The Brain; proof was abundant now that it was thetruth. Washington would take every precaution that the secret should notbecome known to the world. Dad's friend, the Secretary of War, would berather relieved to learn that the one man who knew the truth in itswhole extent had retired into the wilderness of Australia's never-neverlands. Chances were excellent that they would leave him alone amongsthis termite mounds. A great wave of nostalgia swept over him--thewilderness; that was where he belonged. "Mission completed," hemurmured. "Now let's get out of here."
He slid into the pilot seat and pressed the starter button. "I'll be inMexico City at dawn," he thought, "just in time to catch theSidney-Clipper."
* * * * *
On the first of December, 1960, Dr. Howard K. Scriven, Braintrust Czar,held a historic press conference in which he revealed the inside storybehind the "Paranoia of The Brain".
Following the pattern set by the Bikini tests, only a select score ofpress and radio representatives were admitted. Having been duly swornnot to reveal any matter of military secrecy, the participants couldeven be received at the grand assembly hall of the murals, the vastantechamber of The Brain.
As they descended from their blacked-out busses they were led to thecenter of the dome where the Thinker's giant head looked down upon themwith Olympic calm. At eleven-fifteen, exactly as scheduled, the greatScriven dramatically mounted the steps of the monument's pedestal. Penshastily scribbled notes for future reference:
"S. tall and erect" "Unbroken by the blow" "Deep lines of strain andsuffering add dignity to magnificent figure of a man" "Very solemn;leonine head slightly bowed under the burden of responsibility."
With meticulous exactitude of speech, with rolling echoes accentuatingevery syllable Scriven began:
"In this solemn and tragic hour as a great storm has passed over ourland and many of our cities are slowly digging out from the ruin whichhas been wreaked, it is my duty to give you the truth, the whole truthand nothing but the truth. And in order that you might completelyunderstand the underlying cause of the catastrophe, I have to begin atthe beginning...."
For about thirty minutes Scriven lectured with lucidity upon the basicidea, the history, the functions of The Brain. He underlined the closerelationship between its engineering features and the physiology of thehuman brain. He stressed the elaborate precautions which the governmenthad taken for The Brain's protection. He did not conceal The Brain'srole as a strategic weapon; but, pointing to the future, he painted aninspiring picture of peace on earth and human problems solved with theaid of this tool supreme of science and technology.
Then, lowering his voice, he went into the explanation of the tragedy:
"Six months ago, on my personal initiative and responsibility, I inviteda noted scientist from a foreign land to collaborate with the Braintruston a great humanitarian experiment. The exigencies of military secrecydo not permit me to give you his name nor that of the country fromwhence he came. Needless to say, that man was carefullyinvestigated--submitted to the same character and aptitude tests as allour employees were. He was admitted to work in one of The Brain'sapperception centers where he installed the objects of his studies:certain species of ants and termites of the most destructive kind...."
Now that he had come down to the brass tacks, the journalists' pens wentgalloping over the pads:
"Criminal negligence," they scribbled. "Millions permitted to escape.""Probably over period of months." "Wormed their way into the nerve pathsof The Brain." "Large scale destruction of nerve substance." "Effectstantamount to that of a large brain tumor." "Spearhead severs vitalassociation-paths." "No immediate effects of undermining work because ofingenious engineering features of The Brain." "Just as in human brain,functions of impaired cell group automatically transferred to othergroups of healthy cells." "No means to detect devastation; termitesinvisible, embedded in nerve paths' insulation." "Comparison withtermite-eaten structures which suddenly collapse." "First outward signsof tumors in human brains: lack of coordination in movement, loss ofmastery over muscular action." "This phenomenon first manifested Nov.25th in certain motoric organs of The Brain." "Scriven explains trafficcatastrophies and malfunctionings of utilities." "Examinationimmediately undertaken; scientists puzzled because cerebration processescontinue to function perfectly." "Accidents ascribed to sabotage byforeign agents." "This to remain official explanation." "Loss of publicconfidence and unrest feared by government." "Then, Nov. 30th late inthe afternoon: first signs of aphasia in cerebrations." "Glaring errorsin chemical and mathematical formulas." "Symptoms similar to dementiapraecox." "Fifteen minutes later fire alarm." "Short circuitssimultaneous on scores of points over wide area." "Severe handicaps infire fighting inside nerve paths." "Damage estimated at half-billiondollars."
They snapped their notebooks closed. They had the facts, though many ofthem would have to remain a secret. Scriven obviously was coming to theend:
"Now I won't say," his voice rolled on, "that this man, this scientist,has committed a deliberate act of sabotage. I won't say that he was inthe pay of some power hostile to the United States. Whether he was ornot is beyond my competence to decide. But this much I can say: thecatastrophic results of that man's actions could not have been worse ifhe had been a saboteur. Human failure, not mechanical failure lies atthe bottom of all this disaster. With the penetrating intelligence whichso distinguished our modern press you cannot fail to see thatreconstruction of The Brain with greatly increased safeguards against_human_ failure is a paramount necessity...."
A beautiful girl with a helmet of golden hair quickly mounted the stepsof the Thinker's pedestal. She handed Scriven a telegram. Frowning atthe interruption he opened it, but suddenly his face began to beam. Heraised his hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a momentous announcement to make. ThePresident of the United States, Cornelius Vandersloot, has been found.He is alive and well. His plane was emergency-landed somewhere inAlaska. Army planes have gone to the rescue and at this moment ourPresident is already en route to Washington."
As the uproarious applause broke loose echoing in thunders from thedome, Scriven quickly bent his head to the girl.
"Well done, Oona," he whispered, "you chose the exact psychologicalmoment I wanted you to hand me this."
There was a rush for the busses. Only a few shrewd reporters lingeredon.
"That was swell, Dr. Scriven. A grand story. But haven't you anything toadd; some personal angle something with a human interest in it? You knowwhat we mean; something for our women readers...."
The great surgeon took the arm of the lady with the golden hair: "Youmay announce," he said; "that Miss Oona Dahlborg here has done me thegreat honor of becoming my bride."
[Footnote A: Transcriber Note: printer error. Text missing fromoriginal.]
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