A Cure for Cancer

'Guilt? There you go again.' Jerry relaxed. 'Well, I suppose you just saved your life. Boredom is a great preserver.' He stretched. 'So you've decided to think ahead? I can't see it myself.'

'You won't give yourself a chance. You won't give me a chance.'

Jerry began to pick up the pieces of broken glass and put them on the sideboard. He gathered the flowers into a bunch and crossed the room to a mock Tudor table which had an empty vase on it. He put the flowers in the vase. 'It's a question of identity, Frank. What the hell. A wild environment, an integrated identity.'

'We're clearing things up. Tidying the world.'

'You might just as well be in the political age. You can't bring it back, Frank.'

'We will.' . 'Not for long.'

'You'll see.'

'But you know what I'm out to do, don't you?'

'Randomize.'

'More or less.'

'You won't succeed. History's against you, Jerry.'

'That's the difference between you and me, Frank. I'm against History.'

'Where are you going?'

Jerry made for the door. 'I've got to look up an old flame. You don't mind me hanging around for a while, do you?'

Td rather you did. Have you got the machine with you?'

'No.'

'Then I'd rather you did.'

Til be seeing you soon, Frank.'

'Bet on it.'

3 The prison of the stars

Jerry found Flora Hargreaves by the fountain, behind the M-6o tanks.

'You're just as I remember you,' he said.

She smiled, smoothing her olive uniform. 'You never told...'

'No.'

Thanks.'

'You met a friend of mine in London, didn't you? He gave you something to look after.'

'That's right, Jerry.'

'I need it now.'

'You do? You'd better come back to my quarters. I've got a nice place. There's plenty of space for everybody.'

'Everybody who needs it.'

'Yes.'

They walked between the tanks and crossed the square to the violet building opposite the town hall. All around the square the marines were relaxing, chatting to the WACs, smoking, sipping soft-drinks, cleaning their Navy Colts.

'It's been pretty tough for them,' said Flora. 'But I guess they know how to take it.'

'They can take anything by the look of them.'

'Almost anything.' Flora straightened her shoulders: She winked at him. 'It's gotten to be a rotten war., Jerry. I sometimes wonder what you people make of it. It can be hard, sometimes, to take the overall view when your own country's... well...' Jerry sucked in his breath. 'It has to be this way. Maybe if the CIA were still around things would be better.'

'I guess.'

'They've nothing against — you know — consorting?'

'If you're here, Jerry, you've had security clearance. That's all they want to know. It's my leave. I can do what I like.'

They entered the building and climbed the concrete stairs to the first floor, walking along a cool, shady corridor until they came to her room. She turned the handle and threw the door open with a sweeping gesture. 'Apres vous!' Jerry padded in and eyed the room. It was very feminine. There were a lot of soft toys on the bed, posters of British beauty spots on the walls, a helmet and battle overalls hanging over a chair, a.22 in a holster on a stack of Penguin paperbacks, a neat kitchenette through an archway. The room was sunny. Flora drew the blinds.

The machine,' said Jerry.

She went to her wardrobe. There were three print dresses in it. She bent and Jerry looked at her thighs. She straightened, holding something black, square and heavy, and Jerry looked at her eyes. She widened them. 'Is this it?'

'This is it.' Jerry laughed with relief. 'Put it down. Aha!'

As she put it on the floor he seized her, running his hand up her leg and down her regulation drawers; kissing her wide, soft, hot, damp, lively mouth; running his other hand through her sweet auburn hair; guiding her to the bed and fucking her with enormous joy and energy.

'Well, that was nice,' she said. 'I always knew...'

'Come off it.' He gave her one of her Kents and lit one for himself.

'Is the box valuable?'

'It means the world to me.'

'It just looks like some sort of geiger counter — something like that.'

'It's a bit more versatile than that.'

Tell me what it is, Jerry.' She curled a leg over his leg and licked his left nipple.

There's no real word for it. Nothing — authentic. One of its functions is as a sort of randomizer. It can produce all the alternatives at once. There's a lot of power in that little box.'

'A computer? Multivalue logic?'

'Not a computer. Far from it. Almost the opposite, in one sense. It breaks down the barriers. It lets the multiverse — well -"in".'

'That isn't a proper word.'

'It's everything.'

'What's everything?'

'You're everything, Flora. But now you can be mirrored by your environment. It creates a human environment for a human being. It can also speed up various basic processes.'

That's an explanation?'

'Explanations shouldn't be necessary between us. Flora.'

There was a cool breeze and a neigh.

Frank stood in the open door, his upper lip curled like a mule's, his needle-gun in his hand. He came in and closed the door, crossing to the black box. 'I thought so.'

'You're so fucking high-minded.' Jerry climbed over Flora and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his underpants and socks. 'You can't destroy that machine without risking the whole bloody universe going wild.'

'Isn't that what you want?'

'Moderation in all things, Frank.'

'You're a traitor, Captain Hargreaves. Consider yourself under arrest.'

Flora shrugged and pushed the bedclothes back with her feet.

Jerry crossed to the chair and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head. 'Well, Frank, I think a certain equilibrium's been achieved, don't you?'

'You can talk of equilibrium with this' — Frank kicked at the black box — 'in existence. This chaos machine.'

'Oh, come now, Frank. We're not even sure if it has an en-tropic effect or not. It's an experimental model. That's how I came to lose it in the first place — I created the field and then couldn't find the machine in it.' Jerry laughed. 'Ironic, eh? I've got to test it. Find out exactly what it does do.'

'At the expense of society.'

'Well, that's how you see it.'

Jerry put on his other clothes and buckled his Sam Browne belt. 'That's better. You're always catching me with my pants down.'

'It used to be nice. But you know what happened the last time. What has this machine to do with Catherine?'

'Work it out. It's the creation of all possible worlds. It can channel energy — re-divert it — re-form it...'

'Bloody romantic,' said Frank.

'Who's Catherine?' said Flora. 'My aunt...'

'Our sister,' said Frank.

'Have it your way.' Jerry licked his lips. 'Still, this has nothing much to do with the current situation.'

'What is your relationship?' Flora frowned.

'It's become a little ambiguous of late,' Jerry told her. Frank had swung the needle-gun into line with his heart. 'I suppose it boils down to a matter of identification, in the long run.'

'Identity!'

Frank snarled and squeezed the trigger as Jerry dropped behind the chair and drew his vibragun.

'If either of us hits that machine,' said Jerry, 'we might find out a lot about identity.'

Frank hesitated then lowered his gun. 'All right, Jerry. Let's talk like rational men.'

'I'm not sure how it's done.'

Flora Hargreaves rose suddenly and threw the bedclothes over Frank's head. Jerry jumped out and thumped his relative on the back of his neck with the barrel of the vibragun. He fell down heavily. Jerry took the needle-gun out of the tangle of sheets and handed it to Flora. 'He couldn't bear it if you shot him.'