«Clinging to the outside of a ship when the way was barred inside to get away from me! Riding in the cold and emptiness of space to get away from me. Surviving the cold and space—what kind of creature are you?»
«I only did that once,» said Phil, «and not to get away from you. I wanted to see what it would be like. I wanted to touch interstellar space, to find out what it was. But I never did find out. And I don’t mind telling you that once one got over the wonder and the terror of it, there was very little there. Before the ship touched down, I damn near died of boredom.»
The Follower was a brute, but something about him said he was more than simple brute. In appearance, he was a cross between a bear and an ape, but there was something manlike in him, too. He was a hairy creature, and the clothing that he wore was harness rather than clothing, and the stink of him was enough to make one gag.
«I followed you for years,» he bellowed, «to ask you a simple question, prepared well to pay you if you give me a useful answer. But you always slip my grasp. If nothing else, you pale and disappear. Why did you do that? Why not wait for me: Why not speak to me? You force me to subterfuge, you force me to set up ambush. In very sneaky and expensive manner, which I deplore, I learned position of your planet and location where you home, so I could come and wait for you to trap you in your den, thinking that even such as you surely must come home again. I prowl the deep woodlands while I wait, and I frighten inhabitants of here, without wishing to, except they blunder on me, and I watch your den and I wait for you, seeing this other of you and thinking he was you, but realizing, upon due observation, he was not. So now …»
«Now just a minute,» said Phil. «Hold up. There is no reason to explain.»
«But explain you must, for to apprehend you, I am forced to very scurvy trick in which I hold great shame. No open and above board. No honesty. Although one thing I have deduced from my observations. You are no more, I am convinced, than an extension of this other.»
«And now,» said Phil, «you want to know how it was done. This is the question that you wish to ask.»
«I thank you,» said the Follower, «for your keen perception, for not forcing me to ask.»
«But first,» said Phil, «I have a question for you. If we could tell you how it might be done, if we were able to tell you and if you could turn this information to your use, what kind of use would you make of it?»
«Not myself,» said the Follower. «Not for myself alone, but for my people, for my race. You see, I never laughed at you; I did not jest about you as so many others did. I did not term you ghost or spook. I knew more to it than that. I saw ability that if rightly used…»
«Now you’re getting around to it,» said Phil. «Now tell us the use.»
«My race,» said the Follower, «is concerned with many different art forms, working with crude tools and varying skills and in stubborn materials that often take unkindly to the shaping. But I tell myself that if each of us could project ourselves and use our second selves as medium for the art, we could shape as we could wish, creating art forms that are highly plastic, that can be worked over and over again until they attain perfection. And, once perfected, would be immune against time and pilferage…»
«With never a thought,» said Phil, «as to its use in other ways. In war, in thievery …»
The Follower said, sanctimoniously, «You cast unworthy aspersions upon my noble race.»
«I am sorry if I do,» said Phil. «Perhaps it was uncouth of me. And now, as to your question, we simply cannot tell you. Or I don’t think that we can tell you. How about it, Ed?»
Lambert shook his head. «If what both of you say is true, if Phil really is an extension of myself, then I must tell you I do not have the least idea of how it might be done. If I did it, I just did it, that was all. No particular way of doing it. No ritual to perform. No technique I’m aware of.»
«Ridiculous that is,» cried the Follower. «Surely you can give me hint or clue.»
«All right, then,» said Phil, «I’ll tell you how to do it. Take a species and give them two million years in which they can evolve, and you might come to it. Might, I say. You can’t be certain of it. It would have to be the right species, and it must experience the right kind of social and psychological pressure, and it must have the right kind of brain to respond to these kinds of pressures. And if all of this should happen, then one day one member of the species may be able to do what Ed has done. But that one of them is able to do it does not mean that others will. It may be no more than a wild talent, and it may never occur again. So far as we know, it’s not happened before. If it has, it’s been hidden, as Ed has hidden his ability, even from himself, forced to hide it from himself because of the human conditioning that would make such an ability unacceptable.»
«But all these years,» said the Follower, «all these years, he has kept you as you are. That seems …»
«No,» said Phil. «Not that at all. No conscious effort on his part. Once he created me, I was self-sustaining.»
«I sense,» the Follower said, sadly, «that you tell me true. That you hold nothing back.»
«You sense it, hell,» said Phil. «You read our minds, that is what you did. Why, instead of chasing me across the galaxy, didn’t you read my mind long ago and have done with it?»
«You would not stand still,» said the Follower, accusingly. «You would not talk with me. You never bring this matter to the forefront of your mind so I have a chance to read it.»
«I’m sorry,» said Phil, «that it turned out this way for you. But until now, you must realize, I could not talk with you. You make the game too good. There was too much zest in it.»
The Follower said, stiffly, «You look upon me and you think me brute. In your eyes I am. You see no man of honor, no creature of ethics. You know nothing of us and you care even less. Arrogant you are. But, please believe me, in all that’s happened, I act with honor according to my light.»
«You must be weary and hungry,» said Lambert. «Can you eat our food? I could cook up some ham and eggs, and the coffee is still hot. There is a bed for you. It would be an honor to have you as our guest.»
«I thank you for your confidence, for your acceptance of me,» said the Follower. «It warms—how do you say it—the cockle of the heart. But the mission’s done and I must be going now. I have wasted too much time. If you, perhaps, could offer me conveyance to the spaceport.»
«That’s something I can’t do,» said Lambert. «You see, I have no car. When I need a ride, I bum one from a neighbor, otherwise I walk.»
«If you can walk, so can I,» said the Follower. «The spaceport is not far. In a day or two, I’ll find a ship that is going out.»
«I wish you’d stay the night,» said Lambert. «Walking in the dark …»
«Dark is best for me,» said the Follower. «Less likely to be seen. I gather that few people from other stars wander about this countryside. I have no wish to frighten your good neighbors.»
He turned briskly and went into the kitchen, heading for the door, not waiting for Lambert to open it for him.
«Good-by, pal,» Phil called after him.
The Follower did not answer. He slammed the door behind him.
When Lambert came back into the living room, Phil was standing in front of the fireplace, his elbow on the mantel.
«You know, of course,» he said, «that we have a problem.»
«Not that I can see,» said Lambert. «You will stay, won’t you. You will not leave again. We are both getting old.»
«If that is what you want. I could disappear, snuff myself out. As if I’d never been. That might be for the best, more comfortable for you. It could be disturbing to have me about. I do not eat or sleep. I can attain a satisfying solidity but only with an effort and only momentarily. I command enough energy to do certain tasks, but not over the long haul.»