"But that argues against your pacifistic principles," Adam responded, "to say that it must develop such a capacity merely from a series of contacts with things human."
"As the days dwindle down and I continue to regard the world about me, probably in worse shape than I found it," the other answered, "I fear that this—this capacity—could be real, though I shall argue against it to my final breath. I am just saying, Don't take the chance."
Adam leaned over and picked up a rod, which I saw to be more than his height in length when he held it upright. It was colored in swirls like a candy cane, and when he thumped it the ground shook, as if he were striking it with a sledgehammer.
"'Be cheerful, sir'" said he, '"our revels now are ended.'"
The March Hare took out his watch and looked at it. Then he dipped it into his tea and looked at it again. He rose and turned and entered the house, to be followed moments later by Alice and the yawning Dormouse.
"'These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air," he continued, "'and, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind.'"
The house, the tree, the table and all its ware, yea, the sky itself, had faded as he spoke, leaving us in Adam's parlor. Lord Russell nodded. "'We are such stuff as dreams are made on/" he said, "'and our little life is rounded with a sleep.' But will you break your staff, sir? Will you break your staff?"
In response, Adam raised the rod up over his head, hands far out near its ends, and for a moment I thought he was simply holding it there. Then his back began to broaden and I realized that he was exerting enormous pressure upon the thing. His jacket split down the middle and moments later his shirt tore, too, revealing cables of alien musculature beneath his bronze hide, as the bar yielded and bent. With a twist he had it into an S-shape. Then with additional pressure it became a figure 8.
"I'm not sure about that answer, Adam," Lord Russell stated, "but thank you for your help as well as your courtesy." Then he, too, was gone.
Adam moved a few paces and leaned the bent rod against the wall. Rising, he seemed to notice the condition of his garments and he grinned at me. Then he faded, except for the grin, which lingered a while.
"How'd he do that?" I asked Glory.
"You mean the fabric of his vision? Left the door to the multi-purpose room open," she said. "It'll spill out if you do that when the mechanism's activated."
"Curiouser and curiouser," I said, picking up the gaudy figure 8 and satisfying myself that it was real steel. "And the cat's last trick, as in 'Fade to smile'?"
"He was just playing with a side effect of the place," she explained. "Here, inside, the singularity allows you to teleport from place to place. We almost never use it, though. It's easier to walk across the room and pick up a book than to focus the concentration, the will, and the image of place to teleport twenty feet after it. He has a flair for the dramatic, though."
"I've noticed. Still, how'd he manage the lingering smile part?"
"Practice. He's got great control. He's very good at everything he does."
"I've noticed that, too."
And he was suddenly with us once more, standing on the other side of the sofa. He had on a fresh white shirt with his slacks. "Yet are there other revels to attend," he remarked.
"I hope you took sufficient rest," Glory stated.
"Indeed I did, and my youth is renewed like the eagle," he replied.
"Whatever did Lord Russell want to trade?" I asked.
"Halitosis," he answered. "You see, he has a young girlfriend and she recently told him he has bad breath. He tried every sort of mouthwash he could locate, and when none of them did the trick he grew desperate. Then he remembered something Alfred North Whitehead had once told him about this place, and he decided to give us a try."
"And you took his breath away in return for a mad party?"
"I got him to throw in a philosopher's advice, too."
"About life, of course. Always nice to collect a few more opinions."
"About the Iddroid," he said. "He's not sure that our bowdlerization of the Library of Congress will do much good. He thinks that the capacity we are trying to avoid may be built right into that primitive collective unconscious Gomi brought us—which surprised me. It seems to go against much of his general thinking. Still, I'd asked him to speculate as wildly as he would, and he may have found the nature of the project somewhat overwhelming."
He moved around to the front of the sofa.
"It did seem as if you'd shaken him somewhat," I said as he advanced, and I brushed against Ursula Shipton, giving her her cue.
She uttered a cry, rushed forward, and struck him twice, which took considerable courage after she'd seen what he could do to a steel rod. But she was a game lady.
Then she shrieked again and collapsed, rolling back slightly in my direction. I had followed her and I stooped immediately and raised her in my arms. I bore her to the sofa.
As I did, she whispered, "His is the power of the cat. I've seen him, like at the Last Judgment. He has all of humanity in a box and he's pushing it into the flames. Maybe he really is the Dev—"
"I arranged a little demonstration," I said loudly, "in return for the one you provided me. Scrying by aggression. Go ahead and tell the gentleman something of your vision."
"Nine lives," she said, "and eight hunters to cut their number. The best is yet to be but closes fast. Soon will be the time when you may not land on your feet."
Adam ran a hand through his hair and smiled.
"Rocky," he said. "Yes, you've got it all right." He moved near, leaned and touched her brow. "Let me know when you're up to it and I'll run you through my mall."
"Mall?" she said, eyes widening as she sat up. "I'm ready already."
He took her hand and they headed for the Hellhole.
". . . And a good time was had by all," I said. "Excuse me, Glory. Nature summons."
I made my way to the John fast, closed the door behind me, and stood there visualizing myself at the small room's other end. I summoned my will and desire. Then suddenly I was there. I could do it, too. I teleported back, then back again. I would have to master this, get it down to a reflex, the way Adam had it. I could see that I would have to visit the John often, to practice.
I considered my reflection in the mirror. "Any further instructions?" I asked.
"Not yet," he replied. "Just hang in there. Timing is everything."
I returned to the parlor to discover Glory in conversation with Ashton Ash, no longer an IT, who now wore Levi's, expensive sneakers, a black Italian sport shirt, and a light leather jacket. Sunglasses hung at his belt in an embossed case. He smiled when he saw me.
"I was just saying that I've given it a trial run and it works fine," he told me. "I was wondering whether you people might help me to meet some nice girls now— perhaps ones who've been clients themselves. Thought we might be a little more sympathetic toward each other. Old school tie sort of thing."
"I'm afraid you're going to have to find a lady on your own," Glory said. "We just haven't the facilities to add that to our services."
"But nice girls are hard—"
Just then Adam emerged from the Hellhole with Ursula Shipton, who had disposed of her rags and now wore a black jump-suit and red sandals. Her hair—washed, cut, styled—was indeed blonde, with a red coral clip in it on the left side. She carried a small black sequined purse and a loose-knit red cardigan. Her now-scoured complexion was lovely. I had almost not recognized her save for the cheekbones and the eyes. She looked even younger than I'd guessed her to be.