“Quite,” was the reply. “And concerning the method of info-interception?”
The assistant continued without hesitation, embarrassed by his incompetency, “A hyper-complex spheroid with radio interceptors, a-matter viewers and recorders and the general intelligence instruments of micro-size was placed in the cranium of the male mutant. The spheroid has negative direct control over the organism. Size was too scarce for use on trivialities. Then an agent was placed behind the larger controls at our end of the instruments.”
“And you are the agent?”
“Hyper-contentedly affirmative.”
I have done two things today. I have found the word for my hatred of the Faces. The Voice gave it to me. When I asked the Voice, it laughed and told me the word to use was “damn.” So today I have thrice said, “Damn the Faces. Damn them.”
Diane and I have decided that we want a baby. Maybe the other fish wanted them, so they got them. We want a baby.
“The two Terrans were so biologically mutated and are so nearly robotic, that it is physically impossible for reproduction on their part, beush.”
The beush ignored the assistant’s words and said, “I have received copies of the thought-patterns and translations. There was something strange and very powerful about the meaning of the male’s thought, ‘want.’ I query.”
“Be assured without preoccupation that there exists negative danger of reproduction.”
The name I wanted to call Diane was not good, because her breasts are hard and large, as is her stomach. I think she is sick.
I do not think Diane is sick. I think she is going to have a baby.
“Entities, assistant! On your oath-body you proclaimed that there is negative danger of reproduction.”
“Rest assured, peace, beush.”
“But his thoughts!”
“Rest assured, peace, beush.”
There is much blood in the water today. Diane is having a baby; sharks have come. I have never seen so many sharks, and as big as they are I have never seen. I am afraid, but still some sneak among us near Diane.
We love the porpoises, so they help us now. They are chasing the sharks away, injuring and killing some.
“Entities, Warp-spaced Entities! There has been reproduction.”
“Yorbeush,” cried the assistant in defense. “It is physically impossible. But they are mutants. It is negatively impossible that they possess Mind Force to a degree.”
“To what degree? What degree could produce reproduction when it is physically impossible?” The beush was sarcastic. “How far can they go?”
“There is negatively great amount they can do. Negative danger, because we have studied their instincts and emotions and found that they will not leave the ‘aquarium,’ their ‘home,’ unless someone tells them to. But there is no one to do so.”
Today I damned the Faces nine times and finally wanted them to go away. The “view-ports” went black. It was like the sharks leaving when I wanted them to. I still do not understand.
There has been much useless noise and senseless talk from the Voice these days. It is annoying because I must concentrate on loving Diane and caring for the baby. So I wanted the Voice to leave. It left.
“Entities Be Simply Damned! The spheroid ceased to exist, assistant. How far can they go, assistant?” The beush rose, screamed hysterically for three seconds and then fired the hand weapon point-blank at the neck of his assistant
The sharks come today, because Diane is having another baby. Diane hurts, and there is more blood than last time. Her face is not pretty when she hurts, as it is pretty when she sleeps. So I want her to sleep. Her face is pretty now with the smile on her lips.
“Fourteen thousand Energi ceased to exist, spheroid ceased to exist, and another reproduction. Warp-space! How far will they go?”
It has been hundreds of days. Faces keep appearing, but I continue to want them to go away. Diane has had eighteen babies. The oldest are swimming around and playing with the porpoises. Diane and I spend most of the time teaching the children by showing them things, and by giving them our thoughts by touching them.
Today I found that none of the children have Voices. I could want them to have Voices, but the children’s thoughts tell me that it is not right to have a Voice.
The eldest boy says that we should leave the tank, that a greater “tank” is around us, and that it is easier to move around in that greater tank. He also says that we must guard ourselves against Faces outside. That is strange, but the boy is a good boy. Many times he knows that things will happen before they do. He is a good boy.
He is almost as tall as I am. The eldest girl is pretty like Diane, her body very white and soft but, since I wanted it so, her hair is golden, instead of dark. The boy likes her very much, and I have seen them together, touching.
Tomorrow I will explain to him that if he wants something, he will get it. So he must want a baby.
“Query? The Energi will bomb-drop the ‘aquarium’? War declared against us? War declared? Entities be wholly damned! Negative! Negativvv!” The disintegrator was fired once more, this time into the orange eye of the beush himself, by himself, and for the good of himself.
When, if I ever do want the Voice to come back, it will be very surprised to know that Diane has had twenty-four babies; that the three eldest boys have mated twice, once and twice, and have had four babies. The Voice will also be surprised to know that it took all twenty-nine of us to want all the Faces around the tank to die, as the eldest boy said to do. We could not tell, but the boy said that six million Faces were dead. That seems impossible to me, but the boy is always right.
Tomorrow we are leaving the tank. We will want to leave it; it is getting crowded. The boy says that beyond the greater tank, which we will also leave, there is enough space for all the babies Diane could have if she lived forever.
Forever, he said. It would be nice to live forever. I think I’ll want...
Ten years or more ago, John W. Campbell opened an editorial in (what was then) Astounding Science Fiction by stating that the first immortal man had probably already been born. His thesis was that medical science and biochemical research were advancing at a sufficient rate of acceleration so that death, at least by decay or disease, might be averted indefinitely.