The doctor was remarkably like the mental picture Tallon had formed of him — a red-faced, silver-haired old giant. He held a cane in one hand, and his head, to which was strapped the gray box of his sonar torch, was in the upright, alert attitude of a blind man.
Tallon examined himself curiously. His face behind the eyeset frame looked longer and more thoughtful than ever, and the loose brown Pavilion overalls showed that he had lost about fifteen pounds since coming to the prison. Otherwise he looked much as he always had, something Tallon found surprising, considering how he felt. His attention came back to Winfield, whose face was taut with concentration as he waited to hear what Tallon would have to say.
“Relax, Doc. I told you — it works perfectly. I’m just getting used to seeing myself as others see me.”
Winfield smiled; then Tallon gasped and grabbed the sides of his chair for support as the workshop seemed to swing away from beneath his feet, right itself, and go bounding past him.
“Hold it, Ed!” he shouted frantically. “Don’t jump about like that. Remember you’ve got me with you.”
“I don’t care,” Hogarth said. “I’m going to shake your hand. I had my doubts about you, Sam, but you’re a bright boy in spite of your college education.”
“Thanks, Ed.” Tallon watched in fascination as his own image grew larger and closer and Ed’s busily working metal crutches flickered on the lower edge of Tallon’s field of vision. He held out his hand and noticed that other Sam Tallon perform an identical movement. Finally he saw Hogarth’s thin hand come into view and grasp his. The touch of fingers, coming at precisely the right moment indicated by the actions of the tableau of strangers, was like an electric shock.
Tallon took the eyeset off with his free hand, plunging himself into friendly darkness, and struggled not to be sick. For a moment the disorientation had been complete.
“Your turn now,” he said, holding the eyeset out to Winfield. “Pull them off as soon as you get into trouble, and don’t be too alarmed at how you feel.”
“Thanks, son. I’ll feel just fine.”
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Tallon sat while the doctor tried out the eyeset. The old man had been blind for eight years and was likely to experience an even bigger shock than had Tallon. As far as quality of vision was concerned, the eyeset worked perfectly, but perhaps he had not given enough consideration to the implications of seeing only — and precisely — what could be seen by the one whose nerve impulses he was pirating. From a practical point of view, a poorer quality image picked up by a receptor located right on the eyeset would be much better. On the other hand, if he had something like a trained squirrel to sit on his shoulder …
“For God’s sake, Ed,” Winfield boomed, “hold that bony little head of yours in one place for a few seconds. You’re making me seasick.”
“What’s going on here?” Hogarth sounded indignant. “Whose head is it, anyway? Nobody thanks me for the use of my eyes; they only act as if they’ve taken over my head.”
“Don’t worry, Ed,” Tallon reassured him. “You can have it back when we’ve finished with it.”
Hogarth sniffed and lapsed into his customary semi-audible swearing. Winfield again demonstrated his characteristic stubbornness by keeping the eyeset on longer than Tallon had, and ordering Hogarth to go to the windows and look in directions that he called out to him. Tallon listened in awe as the old man gave noisy sighs of appreciation or furious commands of “eyes right” or “eyes left,” while Hogarth’s swearing grew louder and more violent. It all came to an end suddenly.
“The eyeset has stopped working,” Winfield announced. “It’s broken.”
“It isn’t,” Hogarth said triumphantly. “I’ve got my hands over my eyes.”
“You treacherous little weasel,” Winfield said in a thunderstruck whisper, then began to laugh. Tallon and Hogarth joined in, spilling the tension that had been building up in them for weeks.
When they finally stopped laughing Tallon discovered he was both hungry and exhausted. He got the eyeset back and watched as Hogarth put the other prototype, still unmodified, onto the work platform of the assembly robot. He saw the little man’s hands flick out, as though from Tallon’s own body, and press the starter buttons. The robot’s doors slid across, enclosing the eyeset, and there was a hiss as the air was expelled from its interior. For the sort of work it was going to do, even the molecules of the atmosphere had to be excluded.
Tallon stood up and patted his stomach. “Isn’t it about time for breakfast?”
Hogarth remained seated at the robot’s control console. “It is, but I think I’ll stay on here till this gadget’s finished. Some of the boys are getting a bit sore about the way I’ve been keeping them out lately. I don’t want them coming in and upsetting things at this stage.”
“I’ll stay on too, son. That’s my eyeset in there, and I don’t mind waiting a few hours to get my hands on it. If you’re agreeable, I’ll send word to Miss Juste and let her know we can give her a demonstration this afternoon.”
Tallon found the thought of actually seeing Helen Juste strangely alarming. She had not been back at the center’s workshop since the day she saw the sonar torch in operation, and the inexplicable turmoil the meeting had created within him was beginning to die down. He had no wish to churn it up again, and yet …
“Sure. That’s all right with me, Doc. Well, I’m going to catch up on some of the food I’ve been missing out on. Sorry to bother you again, Ed, but would you mind watching me till I get out through the door?”
Tallon decided to rely entirely on the eyeset. He left his sonar and cane on the bench, then walked to the door. As he moved he concentrated on the image of his own receding back, as seen by Hogarth, and was able to guide his hand accurately to the door handle. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
“You’re on your own now, son,” Winfield called after him.
Tallon was still able to pick up vision from Hogarth when he was on the upper landing, but now it was a handicap. He slid the control on the right-hand arm of the eyeset frame to “passive” and went down the stairs in darkness. Once through the outer door he moved the control to “search and hold,” and selected maximum range. Men were moving toward the mess hall in twos and threes, and almost immediately Tallon was looking through the eyes of another prisoner.
The man must have been walking with his head down, for Tallon saw nothing but feet striding across the white concrete. Keeping the control at “search and hold,” he flicked the first “reject” stud. He had included six of these studs in the design so that the eyeset would temporarily memorize up to six individual signal patterns and let him reselect any of them at will. A seventh stud was provided to clear the little memory unit.
Tallon had more luck this time. He was looking through the eyes of a tall man who was moving easily, with head erect, toward a low building — presumably the mess hall — at the edge of a large plaza. Other blocks of two and three stories lined the square, and Tallon had no idea which of them was the center’s workshop. He put his arms up and waved, as though to a friend, and saw himself — a tiny figure standing at the entrance of the second building to the right of the mess hall.
Tallon waited until his host had neared the workshop; then he walked quickly out from the entrance toward him, narrowly missing a strolling guard, and fell in about three paces in front. Once or twice through force of habit, he tried to look back over his shoulder, but saw only his own face, white and slightly desperate, turning briefly toward his host.