threw open the door."Come on, get in! Something's happening. Miss Richards, set it for thisCrane's address."
The cab started to shoot uptown, turning a corner into another desertedboulevard. As it skirted the great Park, he pointed at Central Tower.There seemed to be a slight crack in the smooth surface half way up but,as a moment's mist engulfed the tower, it looked flawless again. Thenall the mist was gone and the crack was back, a little larger thanbefore.
* * *
Connor leaned forward and set the cab for top speed as they rounded intothe straight-away of another uptown street. Occasionally they caughtglimpses of frightened faces, clumped in lobby entrances, and once twobodies came flying out of a window far ahead. "They're killing ourpeople everywhere," moaned the nurse.
As they approached the crushed forms, Connor slowed down a little."They're dressed too well--what's left of them. They're paraNormals!"
A minute later they were at the large apartment block where Crane lived.They entered the building through a lobby jammed with more silentpeople. All were Suspendeds.
At first Crane did not want to let the trio in but when he recognizedNewbridge's nurse he unlocked the heavily-bolted door. He was amassively-built man with dark eyes set deeply beneath a jutting brow andthe eyes did not blink as Miss Richards told him what had happened."We'll miss him," he said, then turned abruptly on Connor. "Have you anyskills?"
"Robotics," he answered.
The great head nodded as Connor told of his experience at work and onMax. "Good, we're going to need people like you for rebuilding." Hepulled a radio sender and receiver from a cabinet and held an earphoneclose to his temple, continuing to nod. Then he put it down again. "Iknow what you're going to say--illegal, won't work and all that. Well, afew of us have been waiting for the chance to build our owncommunication web and now we can do it."
"I just want to know why you keep mentioning _our_ rebuilding. They'remore likely to destroy all of us in their present mood."
"_Us?_" He took them to the window and pointed toward the harbor wherethousands of black specks were tumbling into the water. "They'redestroying themselves! Some jumping from buildings but most pouringtoward the sea, a kind of oceanic urge to escape completely fromthemselves, to bury themselves in something infinitely bigger than theirseparate hollow beings. Before they were more like contented robots. Nowthey're more like suicidal lemmings because they can't exist withoutthis common brain to which they've given so little and from whichthey've taken so much."
Connor squared his shoulders. "We'll have our work cut out for us. Dr.Newbridge saw it all coming, you did too."
"Not quite," Crane sighed. "We assumed that at the time of completebreakdown the System would open up, throwing all the Subscribers out ofit, leaving them disconnected from each other and waiting for our help.But it worked out in just the opposite manner!"
"You mean that the System is staying closed as it breaks down? Like atelephone exchange in which all the lines remained connected and everycall went to all telephones."
"Exactly," Crane replied.
"I don't understand this technical talk," Rhoda protested, watching inhypnotized horror as the speck swarm swelled ever larger in the sea.
"I'll put it this way," Crane explained. "Their only hope was to havetime to develop the desire for release from the System as it died. Butthey are dying _inside_ it. You see, Mrs. Newman, every thought in everyparaNormal's head, every notion, every image, no matter how stupidlytrivial, is now pouring into every other paraNormal's head. They'reover-communicating to the point where there's nothing left tocommunicate but death itself!"
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ January 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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