Part 2

Fator's smile was enigmatic. "Perhaps--not. For some of us. I trust you are reconciled, Winslow. You cannot go back. Otherwise, you are as free as any resident of Taval. You must remain inside the dome, unless it is directed otherwise. Our sun is two degrees colder today, and ice covers the northern hemisphere outside. You could not escape, but I hardly have to warn you. There are plenty of matters to interest you in our midst. You are that type. As for your companion--"

"Kenley's a sensible chap," Bob cut in. "True, he lives for sports. But he is an excellent auditor--I mean," he floundered, "good at calculation and all that."

"We have machines for that, in our cities," Fator replied. And the way he said it, made Bob feel a tiny cold shudder.

Fator closed the interview with the word that he--Bob Winslow, would be answerable to the Senior of Taval's ruling Three. He further said that Vasper would continue as his instructor for the present. Then, with a nod, he turned back to his cylinder. It was whirring as Bob and Vasper stepped into the screen.

They emerged within the sports arena again, and Bob noted Jim, watching the games. Then he thought of Fator's cylinder. "That?" Vasper replied in answer to a question. "He was dictating. We use a system--phonetic. The fingers of both hands control Taval rays and thereby, the phonetic words. Fator is writing a story of Taval, or rather, bringing the history up to date, with a plan for his successor to carry on. That is," Vasper added, "if he doesn't carry on himself."

"What do you mean?" Bob demanded. "You haven't discovered immortality!"

Vasper shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. But--well, there are whispers. It would be death to mention it openly, what I have heard. Do not ask me. But in time, listen to the whispers."

Jim Kenley trotted across the great field, looking more cheerful. "Say, I told 'em about baseball and they're willing to take a crack at it. And that tennis business the gals have is red hot. Some swell looking kids around here. Hey Vasper--they ever marry in Taval?"

"If The Three decrees, yes. Otherwise, no."

Jim's face dropped. "Heck, just as I had a redhead squinting at me in that way. Oh well, when I wake up she'll be gone, and I'll probably find I'm fired for this spree. Where to now, friend Vasper."

For days they examined Taval, learned that it took in far more territory than they had imagined. They visited the vat farms, where giant plants grew, blossomed and produced heat in the matter of days, fed by chemicals directly to the roots.

They visited factories, where food was prepared as concentrates, where plastics from elements and vegetable tissue were compounded, all by other machines, not at all like Bob's conception of robots. Indeed, a lot of machines were operated by tiny mechanisms, all lens and coils, capable of being carried around by hand. The Taval ray, Bob learned, was a development starting with the so-called electric eye of the Twentieth Century. And it didn't take him long to recognize many fundamentals created by earlier Americans. Then it was he who came to recognize others, brought into Taval as he. Vasper showed him a stout, slow-moving person called Miller, who had ridden on Fulton's Clermont. Miller was a chemist. And there was a slight figure out of the Twenty Second Century, Gregg by name. He was worrying about the First World Confederacy threatened with breakup when he was removed to Taval. Gregg, Vasper explained, had one of the finest of new minds, and was engaged in sinking shafts into the earth's core, to obtain heat for Taval. As for Jim, he had taken up with a group of young fellows, all of athletic build, and all, strangely enough, imported in recent months. Jim mentioned a boxer, who fought in England while Jackson was President; of a runner who broke the mile record in 1995, and of an Olympic star winning his awards at the turn of the Twenty First century. It amused Bob that Jim appeared to fit in so quickly. Already, by one means or other, Jim actually had organized a baseball team, and was considering bowling. "Too bad they ain't got race horses," he complained to his friend. "They tell me there's one section, south of Taval, that's clean given over to cows and hogs and horses. Funny."

"Heard anything about your duties?" Bob inquired.

"Nope. Got hauled up before your friend Fator the other day. He just asked me if I enjoyed my meals, and minded taking part in the sports. Asked if I'd ever been sick, or had any ailments, and they typed my blood, and a lot of other things."

At Bob's look, Jim laughed, shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, they're doing the same thing to the other fellows. And say, Bob. Soon as I get acclimated, Vasper says, they want me to live at the stadium, with the other beef eaters."

Bob didn't know why, but he had a premonition then, of some menace directed at Jim and his friends. But he was about to be taken to his group, and Bob felt a growing excitement at the prospect. He couldn't help that, for Taval, scientifically speaking, was a treasure house for any man of Bob's type. Vasper told him he should feel proud, in that he was the only newcomer, other than an actual native of Taval, to join this advanced group.

The day Bob heard Fator's voice over the headphones, summoning him to face the screen, Bob's pulse was racing. Fator did him the honor of standing before his desk as he spoke. "I am addressing the other members of the advanced group," he said. "Winslow is to join you now. Instruct him faithfully, and remember he has so much to study, before he can be of value to you, and Taval. Come forward, Winslow, and join your group."

As Fator vanished, Bob turned, gripped Vasper's hand. The latter looked sad. "Now I must go back--for another," he whispered. "Good luck--Bob."

He was due for a surprise, to find the advanced group atop the great dome, living in translucent quarters, a mile above Taval. There he met Kalen and Forg, the two scientists in charge. He was shown the rayscopes, that literally crawled along light waves, to annihilate time and bring before the human eye universes a billion light years away. There too, he studied the black wastes of Peltior Dark, and saw the spectograms that revealed the choking gas areas through which they must pass.

There was so much to learn, so much already learned, that Bob Winslow forgot ordinary hours. The phonetic language wasn't difficult. He spent his allotted hours in the library, and both Forg and Kalen, men high in years, yet with agile minds were patient in revealing discoveries some of them already centuries old. They told him that the entire universe would suffer, and they were gambling upon a chance to survive such intense cold passing through Peltior Dark, that the atmosphere would thaw inside five centuries. After that, they had concluded, provided there were no changes in the solar system, the sun would resume its natural sphere.

"Is there a way of traveling ahead as I have come," Bob asked. "So that we might learn our fate?"

Forg looked at Bob thoughtfully. "We have been afraid--of utter destruction," he said finally. "In that case, we could not return. But if someone bold enough to make the venture tried it--" He broke off. Bob knew Forg was thinking of him. All right, he concluded. And even then, the germ of an idea was born in his mind.

At the end of the first month, Fator summoned him again. He was pleased with Bob's progress. It was even more than they had expected. He asked about Bob's health, then smiled. "I believe a rest period would benefit you," he said. "You may find your friend Kenley and spend five days--as you wish."

"Could Vasper share the rest period with me?" Bob inquired.

"Yes. I shall advise him. He has been back to your century. He delayed, for your benefit. You shall learn, upon seeing him."

Vasper had brought back two more young men. Likewise, he had some magazines and newspapers. He delivered these in Jim's presence and the latter grabbed for the sports pages. Bob picked up his choice paper. There was a headline, and pictures.

THREE DEAD, 47 HURT IN TORNADO

Bob saw pictures of twisted buildings, wreckage, littering streets. The entire downtown section of his home city had suffered. Kerla Research structures had been particularly hard hit. And there, at the bottom of the page, was his own photograph.

YOUNG DIRECTOR OF KERLA RESEARCH LOST, read the caption.

Many bodies were still buried in debris, Bob read, and it was assumed Bob had met such a fate. Jim interrupted. "Sa-a-ay. The Cincy Reds are coming right back. Can you tie that? And the Cards--sa-a-ay. The Nationals will be all tied up again this year. And--" Jim crushed the paper, tossed it away. He got up, face pale.

Bob laid his paper aside, walked over and patted Jim's shoulder. "They said it was a tornado, just as we got kidnaped, Jim. I'm supposed to be killed. And maybe you. We'll have to forget it, Jim."

"I wish to hell Vasper hadn't stopped on his way back. Or--that's the particular hell of it. Vasper going back. And coming just like coming home on the bus. And look at us. Look at us. Now I want to get back. Back home. To hell with this--all of it."

"Hush Jim. Shut up." Vasper looked sorry. He shook his head. "I thought I was doing you a favor," he apologized. "To tell the truth, I had never seen such a storm, and I wanted to know how--how intense it was myself. We--we almost gave up taking you back because of the disturbance."

"I wish it had blown you to the year 50,000," Jim said bitterly. "Now I'm thinking of Yanks and Reds and Cubs, and football and racing, and--of everything."

Vasper removed his headgear as Jim sauntered into another room. He motioned for Bob to do the same thing. In wonder, Bob obeyed. Watching the screen constantly, Vasper drew nearer. "Did you hear--whispers?" he asked anxiously. Bob shook his head.

Vasper hesitated. Then, "I like your friend Jim. Many young men do. But he is doomed."

"What!"

"Not so loud," Vasper said in lower tones. "Jim Kenley is doomed, unless some way is found. The young men are afraid, as more like Jim--with strong bodies and no great brains, are being brought here."

"Go on," Bob answered. "I betray no secrets. What do you mean?"

"Bodies are plentiful, but brains are not. Bodies can die, but brains must survive. The Three have decided that."

Ice raked across Bob's heart. "So what?"

"At last they know--how to transfer the mind from body to body. Now, do you understand?" Quickly Vasper slipped on his headgear. Bob imitated his action mechanically. They were not a moment too soon, for a figure passed across the screen, bearing an apparatus resembling a miniature camera. It vanished. Vasper nodded. "Room inspector. He records everything as he goes across the screen." And now Jim returned. Vasper suggested going outside. Bob remained in the room. He wanted to think.

Vasper had taken a real chance to get this information to him. Now he understood why Jim was removed to the stadium barracks. Taval's rulers had stumbled upon something, more important probably than all other findings. Brain transference! Old men gaining immortality! Young men doomed, to premature senility, then death! And Jim among them. Bob felt sick now.

There must be a way out. Bob felt his debt to Vasper, for undoubtedly the latter knew more than he had revealed. Now a chance remark of Forg's made recently bobbed up in Bob Winslow's mind. "We won't have to worry about leaving our work undone." That was what Forg had said. It tied in with another comment by one of the advance group, who vouchsafed the information to Bob that there would be few additions to their division.

Jim returned at that moment. He started talking about organizing two baseball nines. "Calling 'em the Yanks and Cubs," he laughed. "Say Vasper--where you going?"

Vasper had been listening intently, obviously to a message over his headphone. He whirled, raced toward the screen and vanished. "Can you tie that," Jim exclaimed. "He's a funny duck. But a good scout, Bob. I mean, like us. He--"

Two men materialized on the screen. They stepped into the room. Addressing Jim, one, a swarthy, wide-shouldered man spoke. "You are to come with us."

"Me? I'm suppose to be on leave."

"I had permission for him to join me," Bob put in.

The swarthy one looked at Bob. "I have orders," he said slowly.

Jim swore, looked thoughtful, then shrugged his shoulders. "In this place, they don't fool with you," he mused. "Okay. See you later, Bob."

Panic gripped Bob. Vasper hadn't skipped out because of his own orders. Somebody had tipped him off. "Wait a minute," he addressed the men. "Maybe I can straighten this out. Fator--"

"We are under Fator's orders."

Jim looked pale. "Keep a stiff upper lip, Bob. I know more than you thought. See you later--if you won't recognize me--"

For quite a while Bob Winslow paced the room like a caged animal. Jim did know something. Maybe Vasper had told him, too. Maybe a lot of young men in Taval were whispering the dread news around, helpless yet, hoping for some sort of break to check this menace. It was some time later when Vasper entered the room, caught Bob's eyes with a motion for silence, beckoning him at the same time. Curious, Bob came to him. Vasper held out his hand, pointing to the screen.

They entered a small room, not well lighted. It had no occupants. That is, not till Vasper removed his headgear, as did Bob. The room had a false front, painted to resemble walls and furnishings. Two young men were in the semi darkness behind the false wall.

"Godi and Lelan," Vasper whispered. "They have arranged this room, once a guard room and forgotten. They have knowledge."

"About what? Why they came for Jim?"

"Yes," said the one known as Godi. "Lelan and I are sons of men near The Three. We know Fator has learned brain transference and plans to experiment, first with Forg, of your own group."

"When?"

"Within the hour. That is why he sent for Jim Kenley."

Bob looked at the three, all sober faced, rebellious. "You like Jim," he suggested.

"He is--swell," Godi put in. "That is his word for things he likes. Fator has no right to take any of our bodies, for housing brains of old men."

"But we are helpless," Lelan sighed. "Godi and I, like others born of Taval families, are safe. But the Jim Kenleys brought out of time--they must suffer. It is not right. When I am old I am ready to die."

Vasper nodded. "I do not want to go back, and take men of my age, for such purposes. It's murder, no less. We do not believe in murder, here in Taval."

Fator! He had appeared so benevolent. He was a brilliant man. Bob could understand in a way. Fator was ambitious for his period of stewardship, to reach all the goals he had set. And he could live himself, through his brain, till he had gained those objectives. And Forg! Jim's body and Forg's brain, toiling at his own side in the years to come. Bob shuddered. But what to do? If the experiment was so nearly at hand--

Yes, there was a chance. It came to Bob in a wave of inspiration. It was a chance that had about as long odds as his own at returning to 1940. The single, time-space transfer machine! If it could be called a machine. Vasper should know of it. He had made so many trips. Now he met his Taval friend's troubled eyes. "The machine," he whispered.

Vasper looked scared. "No. One dies attempting to even touch it, except at Fator's orders. It is a sacred trust of a hundred men. To try and reach it means you would be exploded, into sheer gas."

"But if Fator gave an order," Bob went on, "what then?"

Vasper shrugged his shoulders. "Obedience, of course. But Fator will not give such an order."

Godi plucked Bob's arm. "I think I understand," he spoke quietly. "If such an order was given. In Fator's place, I mean. Then one would die, but perhaps you could gain the machine."

"True, Godi. But the only little item lacking, is how to give that order, and then keep Fator from canceling it."

"I think I could attend to that," Lelan put in. "My duties are in the rooms of The Three. I know that the other two are sick old men, and Fator alone directs us. I know his directing room, from where all his orders originate. In fact, I go in and out at will, because I am responsible for all equipment."

Bob looked at Vasper. "Where would this experiment be held--Forg's, and Jim--"

"I do not know, unless it be in Fator's rooms. Again, it might be somewhere else. Fator has a secret workroom."

Bob sank to a stool, mind going over the picture. Presently he looked up at Lelan. "If we left here at precisely the same moment, you to the directing room, Vasper and I to where I could be near the time-space transfer machine, I'm willing to, well, make a try and get in the machine. But Vasper, or someone must tell me what to do."

"That is impossible," Vasper told him. "However I can operate everything. Winslow, I wish to go with you and Jim. Back to your 1940."

"But they'd come and get us--I mean you in particular."

Vasper smiled. "There is one way, my friend, they cannot reach us. We keep the machine. But before that, we take Fator along, to drop into another time. Then there will be no brains transferred, and there will be no new machine, for many, many years. I know. This one took fifty years of construction."

"We might fail," Bob muttered. He looked at Godi and Lelan. Godi spoke up. "I have heard whispers of Fator's secret workroom. Maybe I can find it, if you fail otherwise. I leave now." He turned, pressed Lelan's hand. "We do this for Jim Kenley, one--one swell sportsman," he said, then hurried around the false wall.

They stood there for minutes, the remaining three, whispering final details, Bob felt alternate hot and cold chills now, as he realized his own end, should they fail. Or Lelan fail. Lelan assured them he would not fail. "You shall have the orders before the count of ten," he swore. "The guard will fall back and admit you."

They walked around the false wall, toward the screen. Then the trio stiffened. A room inspector, his tiny apparatus turned their way, was visible. Now he entered boldly. "What's this," he demanded. "This place--you three--unauthorized here!" He pressed the side of his apparatus and a pale light flickered. Vasper and Lelan leaped together, struck the room inspector, all three crashing to the floor. Vasper got up first. He snatched a plastic chair, brought it down on the man's head. Lelan was jumping up and down. "The alarm's given. We've got seconds, at the most. Now--now--we've got a chance--"

Lelan went through the screen first. Then Vasper grasped Bob's hand. "Just go with me," he cried. "Don't think where you're headed." They came into a large, domed structure, and Bob saw it--the golden hued, snubnosed machine, looking more like a submarine than anything else. Guards were tumbling out of screens. They bore slender, black wands. But already Bob knew those wands could blast any known substance, at almost any distance. The men formed a circle about the machine, and wands were leveled at the pair. "If Lelan fails--we're gone," Vasper cried. "They have orders to kill--anyone. Unless the word comes."

They were a hundred feet from the machine, before the largest screen. It was hopeless to rush the men. For even if Vasper could get inside the machine, they would be gas instead of humans before sprinting twenty feet. It was tempting to wheel and dash back through the screen. And yet the alarm surely was out now, and it wouldn't take long to identify the guilty. Then it was that Vasper cried out. "Look. They've made no move. They have the order from Lelan."

Not a guard moved, true, but the wands were still leveled. And now Vasper strode forward. Bob's knees felt weak, but he followed. Panic was upon him, so much that he felt an almost overwhelming urge to dash for the machine. As for Vasper, he spoke no word. It was evident the guards were dumbfounded, still suspicious, but powerless for the moment to halt them. And Vasper reached up, moved a hand and a door slid open. The pair entered.

Already the men outside were in motion. As one a half hundred rushed toward the door. But Vasper had it closed. "Lelan's in trouble," he called, running forward to a turret. "Hang on. We're going to Fator's quarters--to his entrance hall."

The domed ceiling melted. In one continuous motion they seemed to blend into another building, beneath another dome, more brightly lighted. There were men, guards, but Vasper groaned. "Fator is not here," he shouted.

Bob was conscious of a voice sounding in his earphone. It was high pitched, insistent. "Tell Vasper--my legs are gone. Fator--Stadium--underneath--" Lelan's voice died in a great sigh. Bob pictured the onrush of guards, blasting their friend's body bit by bit into gas. Bob shouted the words to Vasper, who nodded. They made the arena field first, and there was Godi, racing toward them and pointing toward the tower overlooking the stadium entrance. Then Godi reached the tower, pointed downward.

Even as Godi pointed vigorously into the earth, he seemed to swell, to grow abruptly, into a white cloud that became mist. Guards were coming across the field. Vasper circled the machine above the dissolving mist. Then, with an air of decision, he pointed the machine earthward.

This was no sudden transition by means of fourth-dimensional powers. The machine struck, and they became the center of an exploding mass of soil and masonry. And as quickly, they dived into a great, underground chamber.

There, visible to the invaders, was Fator. There were two beds, side by side. One held Jim Kenley, bared to the waist. Forg was stretched upon the other. Fator had his hands upraised, and Vasper got down, ran to the exit and waved his hand. "You take Fator. I'll take care of Jim," he called. Bob was outside as quickly. He realized the chance they must take now. Let the screens pour in a horde of guards and the machine's security for them would vanish. Fator was fumbling for a wand. It had fallen to the floor. Now Fator was bent over, hand outstretched. Bob made a dive. He struck the director of Taval, sent him beyond reach.

Vasper was racing toward the machine with Jim's body. Forg made feeble efforts to raise as Bob, the death wand in his possession, grabbed Fator's arm. "Get up," he snarled. "You kill no buddy of mine, for his body. Get up, or I'll blow you out of Taval."

Fator wasn't calm now. He looked wolfish, screaming curses, clawing for the wand. He resisted, and Bob started dragging him. And now men did pour forth from screens, wands before them. "Blast him," Fator shouted. "Quick--"

Bob yanked Fator around, holding him as a screen. He held the wand before him. "Okay," he said. "Let's start."

It was a bluff. Vasper shouted encouragement. But Fator fought, and almost pulled away, while guards circled at a safe distance, hesitating to attack. They followed, till Bob was below the machine entrance. It was a three-foot climb, and Fator himself laughed. "When he turns to push me in, use the ray," he ordered.