It was uncanny at first, talking to my friend’s brain inside the cylinder, but, realizing that we must accept the situation, we had maintained our friendship on its old standards. Ken joked about his helplessness, while I chose to ignore that he was anything other than the old Kenneth Smith whom I had once known in a human body.
I had eaten and was just lighting up for an after-meal smoke, when my friend hailed me. I hurried to the side of the cylinder.
“What is it, Ken?”
“Take a look over there, Bob. Straight ahead of me, the only way I can look. I’ve been trying to figure out if I see something or not. I would swear that I could, a white speck of some sort. Just between those two hills where the sun is setting.”
I strained my eyes, but could see nothing. I told him so.
“Something funny about that,” commented Ken, “I am certain that I see something. Looks like a building of some sort. It may be that my senses have been sharpened by being put into this tank. They’re all I’ve got left to use and they may be developing. I’ve been watching that thing for a long time and I am convinced it’s not my imagination.”
“But what would a building be doing out here in the middle of the desert, a good 500 miles from any habitation?”
“I don’t know,” said Ken. “This is an old planet. There’s lots of strange things on it. Get out Tarsus-Egbo and hook him up. He may have developed even better eyesight than I have. If my theory is right, it should be a great deal better. He’s been tanked up longer than I have.”
I walked to the ship and brought forth the second cylinder.
“I won’t have you disconnected for long,” I told Ken, “Just long enough to look up the Martian and see if he can tell me anything.”
“Hook us up together, just wire him up to the same terminals I’m hooked up to. I have been thinking about it. I am certain, from what I know of the machine, that two or even more cylinders could be hooked up at the one time.”
“You really think so? I don’t want something to go wrong.”
“I am certain of it. About all I can do, in the shape I’m in, is to think and I believe I have it all figured out. I’d like to talk to Tarsus-Egbo. It would be a marvelous sensation talking to another pickled brain.”
“Well … if you are sure …”
“Go ahead, Bob. Nothing will happen.”
Securing two short wires, I quickly connected the Martian’s cylinder, holding my breath. At the least sign of anything wrong I was prepared to rip the wires away, but nothing did happen. The second cylinder glowed softly and took on its milky transparency.
The Martian blinked his eyes, as if awakening from a deep slumber.
“Kor,” I greeted him solemnly in Martian.
He replied as solemnly.
I shifted the cylinder so that the Martian faced my friend.
Rapidly Ken spoke to him and the Martian replied gravely.
“Shift my cylinder so that I may see. My eyes are good. Strange man, your theory is correct. Being placed in the cylinder does sharpen one’s senses. I am certain I can see it, if there is anything there.”
I shifted the cylinder and Ken, speaking softly, directed Tarsus-Egbo’s gaze.
“I also see it,” said the Martian, “It is a pyramid, one of the many which existed here on these deserts in my day, but which, before my death had been largely destroyed by my people.”
“Why destroyed by your people?” asked Ken.
“For two reasons,” replied the Martian. “They are structures that were built by an ancient people who subscribed to a blasphemous religion and who used the pyramids as temples. It was only just that they should be destroyed. Those who destroyed them also found a great reward, for the pyramids invariably conceal great riches. Piety and hope of gain spurred my people on to their destruction. The sight of this one maddens me. I had thought that, by now, all would have been destroyed. It is an insult to Kell-Rabin, an insult to all of Mars that it should stand there. It is the filthy manifestation of a loathsome cult that once held sway over our beautiful land.”
I thought that I heard a faint chuckle come from Ken’s cylinder, but I was not sure, for he spoke immediately.
“What would you say, Tarsus-Egbo, if my friend destroyed that pyramid over there? Would he be able to do it? Do you think he would find great riches there?”
“It would be a great service to Mars if he did so,” said the Martian. “I would thank him and the high priest would thank him. Perhaps we would even accord him the honor of being placed in one of the cylinders when he dies, even as you have been accorded that honor. I would forgive him the wrong that he had done me in his insane quest for knowledge and would thank him if he destroyed the pyramid.”
“But,” replied Ken, “my friend does not care for your thanks nor for the thanks of the high priest. In fact,” I was sure of the chuckle this time, “he would not even care to meet the high priest. I even doubt if he would care to be placed in a cylinder. He is interested only in the great riches which he might find in the pyramid.”
“If that is all he wishes,” rumbled Tarsus-Egbo, “he will find them there. Riches that will make his brain swim. Jewels that are like fire and jewels that are like ice and others that are blue as the outer reaches of the sky. There too, he will find …”
“Wait,” droned Ken, “Do you realize that you are in the power of my friend. Do you know that he might be very angry if he did not find riches such as you have described in the pyramid? Do you know that he might be so enraged that he would break your cylinder and destroy your immortality? My friend is quick to anger and it is best not to play upon his temper.”
“He will find riches, great riches, in the pyramid,” insisted the Martian, terror-stricken.
“But how do you know that some of your own people have not taken them? Just because the pyramid is there, does not necessarily mean that the riches must also be there.”
“They are there,” insisted the Martian, “If my people had found the place, it would not be standing now.”
“I guess that’s about all he can tell us, Bob,” said Ken and I unhooked the Martian’s cylinder.
“This is a new one to me,” I told my friend, “I studied the Martians a great deal before they kicked me out, but this is the first time I ever heard about these incredibly ancient people.”
“It was natural that you wouldn’t hear about it,” Ken pointed out. “It was something closely connected with their religion and you will have to admit that you can’t find out much about this religion of Mars. What we have found out has been against their will and we have paid heavily for it.”
“This puts a different face on the whole matter,” I said.
Ken did not reply for a moment, then he spoke.
“I get you. With riches such as Tarsus-Egbo described, one can get anything one may happen to want. Those riches, Bob, if we can get them, will mean a lot to us. It will mean that we can continue to play our old hand against Mars. It will mean that, after all, we may not have to relinquish our revenge. It may mean that you can, at last, with safety, study the bones of Kell-Rabin. It is worth a try.”
“Yes, worth a try,” I said, “and we are going to make that try tonight. We can fly over there in a few minutes.”
“That’s talking now. Wish that I had a couple of hands to help you. Too bad. Two can do more than one. About all I can do is sit to one side and keep up the conversation.”
“That’s all right, old man,” I consoled him, “Now I will have to unhook you. I’ll connect the machine to the generator inside the plane and hook you up again so that you won’t miss the trip over there.”