Enough to trigger a reaction.
CHAPTER 20
He arrived naked, still on his back, and face up.
Gosseyn Three lay very still, orienting himself to a sunlit room. Not easy; for there was the confusion of those last moment mental pictures of what he had seen of the aliens.
And there was the instant concern about them, and what they might do; and, simultaneously, a quick attempt at awareness of his own body feelings:
… Were there any sensations that would indicate that they still had contact with him?—
The several seconds required for him to realize that he was lying on the carpeted floor of the bedroom m the Institute of General Semantics, went by. Relief came when he saw that the door was closed, and that he was alone. And then, finally—
He grew aware of a vague, slow, spinning sensation Deep inside him.
Even though he had expected it, he was disappointed. “Okay, okay,” he thought glumly, as he climbed to his feet. “At least, now I know what it is and what it can lead to.”
After several seconds of adjusting to the standing position, he was suddenly hopeful. Maybe they would observe him for a while. See what he did. Find out why he had come here.
And, of course, there were obvious firsts for a human being to do.
Blayney had sent over half a dozen men’s suits, with all the necessary complements; and five of them—Gosseyn discovered with relief—were still in his clothes closet.
As he slipped hastily into, first, undershorts, and then a pair of dark beige trousers, and a brown shirt, socks and shoes, he found himself wondering what had happened to the suit he had been wearing at the moment when he was transported to the capsule duplicate aboard the alien ship.
Was there a crumpled coat, trousers, shorts, shirt, tie, socks and shoes lying in the corridor outside the office of businessman Gorrold?
That was the most likely possibility. Hard to believe that the spinning sensation, which had preceded the moment of transmission, had affected anything but his living body? In his own 20-decimal similarity extrabrain transport, clothes accompanied him only if he consciously took that special mental photograph of them…
His small awarenesses about that ceased abruptly, as he grew more consciously aware of his surroundings, and of the fact that, during those final moments of getting dressed, he had the realization that Gosseyn Two was manifesting… out there.
In effect, then, he looked up, and spoke silently: “Okay, alter ego, any suggestions?”
The reply was peacefuclass="underline" “No. You’re the one that’s out there. I seem to be sitting out this entire experience. I gather you want to do something about Enin before anything else happens.”
It was true. Though—now that he was back on the scene—the purpose did not seem quite as urgent as it had earlier. He realized that Two’s moment about not being involved had brought a whole new train of thought.
“Does that mean,” he asked, “that we’re getting to be sufficiently dissimilar, so that you don’t have any of that spinning sensation inside you?”
“Apparently,” was the reply, “they seem to be able to differentiate us. Or it’s a focussing device they use, and they’ve got it pointed at you.”
The second thought seemed, instantly, to be the most likely possibility. And so, Gosseyn Three telepathed “If that’s the truth of the matter, then, if necessary. you can either come and get Enin, or transmit him on the basis of the mental photograph in my extra-brain.”
“We have some fine reasoning to do,” came the reply, “and maybe even some testing. But in anything to do with Enin and you, we must include in our logic the effect on the Queen Mother Strala of anything to do.” A faint smile seemed to accompany the concluding thought: “If you’re going to be the first Gosseyn to make love to a woman, you’d better not muff the emotional preliminaries any more than you already have Gosseyn Three did not argue with the analysis. He finished putting on his shoes. And then he was or opening the door.
He saw at once that Enin was there in the living room with Dan Lyttle. The boy saw him, and said “Gee, I’m sure glad you’re back. This guy is worse than—” He spoke an unfamiliar name.
It was one of those delayed hearing processes: but presently it seemed as if what he had heard was “Traada!” And, equally important, it dawned him that that must be the name of the emperor’s teacher on the Dzan battleship.
The disgusted hand movement seemed to mean that Dan Lyttle was worse than Traada.
The situation seemed to call for a question. “What’s the subject?” Gosseyn asked.
“Names.”
“Oh!” acknowledged Gosseyn.
“He says a chair is not a chair.”
In spite of himself, Gosseyn found himself smiling. Evidently, Dan Lyttle had been continuing the boy’s General Semantics’ education. And this was the latest.
What bothered him was the feeling that he didn’t really have the time for things like this. His logic said the Troogs, not being semantically oriented, would swiftly become impatient if he involved himself with the homey details of human existence.
Nevertheless, there were things he should know. Quickly.
He turned to the man. “Any problems while I was—” At that point he hesitated, with the realization that Dan and Enin believed him to have been interviewing business people who were against General Semantics; there were no suitable words that could possibly describe the awesome reality of what had happened, so he completed the thought with a stereotype—“out?”
The phone rang.
Whereupon Dan Lyttle smiled, and said, “I think we have the answer to your question. That’s the fourth call since I came in. The first three were from outraged business men. Shall I take it?”
“No. Let me.”
As Gosseyn hurriedly walked over to the end of the couch, sank into it, and picked up the receiver, Enin said, “And there were two calls when I was here alone.”
Gosseyn said, “Hello.” In his best baritone.
There was a long pause at the other end. Then the sound of a man forcefully inhaling. And finally a familiar voice said, “This is Gorrold. In case you don’t remember my name, maybe it will help if I tell you I’m phoning from an observatory in the Andes. And there are four President Blayney guards here. And we’ll be back this evening. Three of us have plans for you.”
So it had been earth.
Gosseyn was aware of mixed feelings as that reality penetrated. Presumably, he should feel relief; since, of course, he had never intended permanent harm to any of the men. Also, it seemed reasonably logical that his extra-brain had, during those moments of confusion, selected the known location from the unknown. Split-instant interactions would have been involved. And at that speed the familiar had automatically synchronized more swiftly.
They were split-instant, fleeting thoughts; and, even as he had them, he was making his decision.
“I have the feeling,” he said into the mouthpiece, “that we ought to have a face-to-face conversation. And, now that you have experienced the basic nothingness of the universe, maybe right now would be a good time.”
The voice at the other end of the line made a sound. It seemed to be an expression of puzzlement. The word uttered, if it could be called that, had in it a combination of h’s and n’s, and a vowel, or two, or three. And it came through something like: