Part 2

He shook his head and put his trembling hands together and said, "What is this? You're going to lose your job, granted. Is that any reason to lose your mind too? Tzadi and that waiter are religious nuts. They have a symbolism and language all their own. Besides...." Here he laughed, because the fear was coming out into the open, and as soon as it did it was revealed as ridiculous. "Besides, how can you be the last man on earth if Tzadi and all the others are here, right here in Chester Chemical? And the waiter and all the millions down there in the streets? And the other millions in the other cities and countries of the world?"

He sat down. He used his handkerchief to wipe sweat from his face and neck. He laughed, and it was almost his booming, confident laugh. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. And then he began to tremble again. Against all logic, all reasoning, the horror of being totally alone in the world returned.

He got up and went to the door. He put his hand on the knob.

_No, he couldn't open it!_

He laughed. It was a cracked and shattered sound. He said, "Listen. Out there are the typists and writers and executives. Just listen to them. Just listen to the noise...." His voice slid upward in a strangled scream. He heard no noise.

He looked at his watch. Two-twenty. There had to be noise!

He put his ear to the door. Nothing. Not a sound of any sort.

He backed from the door, both hands over his mouth. He bumped into his desk. His phone rang. He listened to it. It rang and rang, the only sound on the 36th floor. Finally, he turned and picked it up. He heard Tzadi's voice. "Der, could you come to my office for a moment?"

He said, "What's happening?" He heard himself sobbing, and didn't care. He said, "Am I losing my mind? What's happening?"

"No, Der, you are not losing your mind." Tzadi's voice sounded as if he, too, were weeping. "It's just ... what I tried to tell you before."

"Yes, before. Listen, I've changed my mind. If it's the only way.... Listen, Ed, I'll do ... I'll do what you said. You know, Mercy. I'll...."

"Too late," Tzadi murmured. "Please come to my office, Der."

"No!"

"You must be dismissed, Der."

"Dismissed," Derrence said. "I must be dismissed." He quieted. "That's all that's going to happen, isn't it? I mean, I'm going to be fired?"

"Then you'll come to my office, Der?"

Derrence took a deep breath. "Yes."

* * * * *

The line clicked and went dead. Derrence put the phone down, carefully. He rubbed at his eyes, then wiped them with a handkerchief. "I'm going to be dismissed." It was a promise, a hope, now that the horror of something else, something insane and impossible, something infinitely worse filled his brain and chest and stomach. "I'm going to be dismissed."

He went to the door. He didn't stop to listen; just opened it. He stepped outside.

Mercy was at her desk, sitting quietly. She looked at him.

"It's all right, Mercy. I know. You were doing a job. It's all right."

His voice rang in the silence of the 36th floor. Mercy didn't answer. Mercy just looked at him.

He turned from her and walked up the hall. He passed Miss McCarty's office. He stopped, moved back, stood in her doorway. He would apologize for deceiving her.

She sat at her desk, looking at him. He said, "In a short while you'll learn I abused...."

His voice was a squeak in an empty cavern, a footfall on a dead planet. And Miss McCarty just looked at him, unblinking, unmoving.

He hurried up the hall, passing secretaries, writers, executives. All sat at their desks quietly; unblinking, unmoving. All looked at him.

He put his head down. He ran, and held back the screams rising in his throat. Tzadi would explain everything. Tzadi would laugh at his insane fears. Tzadi would fire him, and then he would ride down in the elevator and go home and have a drink.

* * * * *

He reached Tzadi's office. The door was open and Tzadi sat behind his desk, unblinking, unmoving. Behind him stood three men; taller, better built men than Tzadi. The middle one was looking out the window, his back to Derrence. The man to the right of Tzadi said, "Come in, please." He had a long, lean face. It looked sad.

Derrence moved forward, slowly, until he was right up against the desk. He looked down at Tzadi. "What's it all about, Ed?"

Tzadi said nothing.

"What did you try to do for me?"

The man to the right of Tzadi said, "He tried to save your life. He'll be dismantled for that. It's a sad thing, of course, him being one of the original hundred, but most have been dismantled anyway."

"Dismantled," Derrence said, the fear was immense now.

"You mean you don't know? You didn't guess anything, and Tzadi didn't tell you?"

Derrence raised his eyes from Tzadi. "Dismantled?"

"Yes. Taken apart. Destroyed. Killed. He lasted longer than most of the original hundred by each year. You understand? He was one of the _first hundred_ made by the Original himself. That's why he had defects--stilted speech, squat construction and, most serious, a tendency to romanticize humanity. Even among the latest models, there are a few who feel that way, but once the last human is gone that problem...."

Derrence was calm now; the calmness beyond shock, beyond horror. "_I'm_ the last human?"

"So we believe. There might be another in India--we're still checking. One more in Sweden is a possibility. But for the records, Derrence Cale was the last human being."

"Was the last human being," Derrence whispered.

The man to the left of Tzadi began to raise his right arm. The man to the right of Tzadi said, "Not yet." Then, more sharply, to Derrence, "We were kinder in our war than you and your people ever were. We created no blood baths, no gas chambers, no panic. Over a period of twenty-seven years, we eliminated and replaced. Families lived with our replacements, never suspecting the loved one was an android. We caused almost no pain at all, as you'll soon find out."

"Android," Derrence whispered. "Machine."

The voice grew curt. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

Derrence wanted to ask why Tzadi and the others were so quiet now, and why children still ran around the streets of residential neighborhoods, and--above all--what was the sense in a world of machines. But he asked no questions. These were not people. In man's image, but not man. Their answers weren't for him.

"I don't believe you," he said, wanting to hurt them, anger them; wanting most of all to hear himself say it. "I believe it's all a joke, or nightmare, or figment of my insane mind."

The man to Tzadi's right held up his hand. A small opening appeared in the palm, and grew larger. When it was a hole as large as the wrist behind it, the man said, "Breathe deeply and you won't suffer."

"Wait," the man to Tzadi's right said. "He's the last. Let him _believe_!" He tapped the man between; the one looking out the window with his back to Derrence. That man turned, and cleared his throat, and seemed embarrassed. Derrence heard himself laughing. It was too much. He looked at the man and laughed and laughed.

His duplicate, his android self, also laughed. It was the laugh of the true Derrence Cale--weak, frightened, ineffectual and apologetic. "I'm sorry, sir," the android Derrence Cale said. "I hope I can do as well as you've done."

The hand with the hole came across the desk, and something very sweet filled the air. Derrence Cale breathed deeply.

THE END