Well, that clinched it. How could I guess the consequences? How could I know that his aid would lead me into a situation in which I must not lesnerize?
"What about that flowerpot?" I asked.
"It will be dropped on the corner of Tenth Street and McAdams Boulevard at eight-thirty tomorrow morning."
"Tenth and McAdams? Where's that?"
"In Jersey City," he answered promptly.
"But I've never been to Jersey City in my life! Why warn me about that?"
"I don't know where you will or won't go," the derg said. "I merely perceive dangers to you wherever they may occur."
"What should I do now?"
"Anything you wish," he told me. "Just lead your normal life."
Normal life. Hah!
It started out well enough. I attended classes at Columbia, did homework, saw movies, went on dates, played table tennis and chess, all as before. At no time did I let on that I was under the direct protection of a validusian derg.
Once or twice a day, the derg would come to me. He would say something like, "Loose grating on West End Avenue between 66th and 67th Streets. Don't walk on it."
And of course I wouldn't. But someone else would. I often saw these items in the newspapers.
Once I got used to it, it gave me quite a feeling of security. An alien was scurrying around twenty-four hours a day and all he wanted out of life was to protect me. A supernormal bodyguard! The thought gave me a enormous amount of confidence.
My social life, during this period, couldn't have been improved upon.
But the derg soon became overzealous in my behalf. He began finding more and more dangers, most of which had no real bearing on my life in New York — things I should avoid in Mexico City, Toronto, Omaha, Papeete.
I finally asked him if he was planning on reporting every potential danger on Earth.
"These are the few, the very few, that you are or may be affected by," he told me.
"In Mexico City? And Papeete? Why not confine yourself to the local picture? Greater New York, say."
"Locale means nothing to me," the derg replied stubbornly. "My perceptions are temporal, not spatial. I must protect you from everything!"
It was rather touching, in a way, and there was nothing I could do about it. I simply had to discard from his reports the various dangers in Hoboken, Thailand, Kansas City, Angkor Wat (collapsing statue), Paris, and Sarasota. Then I would reach the local stuff. I would ignore, for the most part, the dangers awaiting me in Queens, the Bronx, Staten Island, and Brooklyn, and concentrate on Manhattan.
These were often worth waiting for, however. The derg saved me from some pretty nasty experiences — a holdup on Cathedral Parkway, for example, a teen-age mugging, a fire.
But he kept stepping up the pace. It had started as a report or two a day. Within a month, he was warning me five or six times a day. And at last his warnings, local, national, and international, flowed in a continual stream.
I was facing too many dangers, beyond all reasonable probability.
On a typical day:
"Tainted food in Baker's Cafeteria. Don't eat there tonight."
"Amsterdam Bus 312 has bad brakes. Don't ride it."
"Mellen's Tailor Shop has a leaking gas line. Explosion due. Better have your clothes dry-cleaned elsewhere."
"Rabid mongrel on the prowl between Riverside Drive and Central Park West. Take a taxi."
Soon I was spending most of my time not doing things, and avoiding places. Danger seemed to be lurking behind every lamp post, waiting for me.
I suspected the derg of padding his report. It seemed the only possible explanation. After all, I had lived this long before meeting him, with no supernormal assistance whatsoever, and had gotten by nicely. Why should the risks increase now?
I asked him that one evening.
"All my reports are perfectly genuine," he said, obviously a little hurt. "If you don't believe me, try turning on the lights in your psychology class tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Defective wiring."
"I don't doubt your warnings," I assured him. "I just know that life was never this dangerous before you came along."
"Of course it wasn't. Surely you know that if you accept protection, you must accept the drawbacks of protection as well."
"Drawbacks like what?"
The derg hesitated. "Protection begets the need of further protection. That is a universal constant."
"Come again?" I asked in bewilderment.
"Before you met me, you were like everyone else and you ran such risks as your situation offered. But with my coming, your immediate environment has changed. And your position in it has changed, too."
"Changed? Why?"
"Because it has me in it. To some extent now, you partake of my environment, just as I partake of yours. And, of course, it is well known that the avoidance of one danger opens the path to others."
"Are you trying to tell me," I said, very slowly, "that my risks have increased because of your help?"
"It was unavoidable," he sighed.
I could have cheerfully strangled the derg at that moment, if he hadn't been invisible and impalpable. I had the angry feeling that I had been conned, taken by an extraterrestrial trickster.
"All right," I said, controlling myself. "Thanks for everything. See you on Mars or wherever you hang out."
"You don't want any further protection?"
"You guessed it. Don't slam the door on your way out."
"But what's wrong?" The derg seemed genuinely puzzled. "There are increased risks in your life, true, but what of it? It is a glory and an honor to face danger and emerge victorious. The greater the peril, the greater the joy of evading it."
For the first time, I saw how alien this alien was.
"Not for me," I said. "Scram."
"Your risks have increased," the derg argued, "but my capacity for detection is more than ample to cope with it. I am happy to cope with it. So it still represents a net gain in protection for you."
I shook my head. "I know what happens next. My risks just keep on increasing, don't they?"
"Not at all. As far as accidents are concerned, you have reached the quantitative limit."
"What does that mean?"
"It means there will be no further increase in the number of accidents you must avoid."
"Good. Now will you please get the hell out of here?"
"But I just explained —"
"Sure, no further increase, just more of the same. Look, if you leave me alone, my original environment will return, won't it? And, with it, my original risks?"
"Eventually," the derg agreed. "If you survive."
"I'll take that chance."
The derg was silent for a time. Finally he said, "You can't afford to send me away. Tomorrow —"
"Don't tell me. I'll avoid the accidents on my own."
"I wasn't thinking of accidents."
"What then?"
"I hardly know how to tell you." He sounded embarrassed. "I said there would be no further quantitative change. But I didn't mention a qualitative change."
"What are you talking about?" I shouted at him.
"I'm trying to say," the derg said, "that a gamper is after you."
"A what? What kind of gag is this?"
"A gamper is a creature from my environment. I suppose he was attracted by your increased potentiality for avoiding risk, due to my protection."
"To hell with the gamper and to hell with you."
"If he comes, try driving him off with mistletoe. Iron is often effective, if bonded to copper. Also —"