Having led a solitary life for so many years, he felt that he could see man's basic nature far, far better than those who had dwelled in cities all their lives. Seeing, he could judge.
Clutching his staff, he passed out of the town and into the hills, the wind tumbling his hair and beard, the stars of Italbar in his eyes.
Smiling he went.
Malacar stretched his arsenal arms and legs and stifled a yawn.
"More coffee, Mr. Morwin?"
"Thank you, Commander."
"... So, the CL is thinking of further hostilities and they want to use me as an excuse? Very good."
"That's not exactly the way it was put to me, sir."
"It amounts to the same thing."
Too bad I cannot trust you, Malacar decided, even though you consider yourself trustworthy. You were a good Exec, and I always liked you. You artistic types are too unstable, though. You go where they buy your art. With that mindtrick of yours aimed at a fusion reactor we could do some good work together again. Too bad. Why don't you smoke that pipe I gave you?
_He is thinking of it now_, said Shind.
_What else is he thinking?_
_Whatever the information I feared, it is not foremost in his mind. Or if it is, I do not recognize it as such_.
"Mr. Morwin, there is a favor I would like to ask of you."
"What is it, sir?"
"It concerns those dream-globe things that you make ..."
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to make me one."
"I'd be only too happy. But I don't have my equipment with me. If I had known you were interested, I could have brought the gear along. But--"
"I understand, in principle, what it is that you do. I believe that my laboratory facilities would be sufficient for us to work something out."
"There are the drugs, the telepathic linkage, the globe--"
"--And I'm a doctor of medicine with a telepathic friend who can both receive and transmit thought-images. As for the globe, we should be able to manufacture one."
"Well, I'll be glad to try."
"Good. Why do we not begin this evening? Now, say?"
"I have no objections. Had I known of your interest earlier, I would have offered to do it long ago."
"I only thought of it recently, and the present seems a particularly appropriate time.
So very, he reflected. And late.
He moved through the great rain forest of Cleech. He passed beside the River Bart. By boat, he traveled hundreds of miles along that watercourse, stopping at villages and small towns.
By now, his appearance was indeed that of a holy outcast--somehow stronger and taller, with voice and eyes that could catch and draw the attention of crowds, his garments in tatters, hair and beard grown long and unkempt, body covered with countless sores, blotches, excrescences. He preached as he passed, and men listened.
He cursed them. He told them of the violence that lay in their souls and of the capacity for evil which informed their beings. He spoke of their guilt, which cried out for judgment, announced that this judgment had been rendered. He stated that there is no such act as repentance, told them that the only thing remaining for them was to spend these final hours in the ordering of their affairs. None laughed as he said these words, though later many did. A few, however, moved to obey him.
Thus tolling the Day of Annihilation, he moved from town to city, from city to metropolis; and his promise was always kept.
The few who survived considered themselves, for some obscure reason, as the Chosen. Of What, they had no idea.
"I am ready," said Malacar, "to begin."
"All right," Morwin agreed. "Let's."
What the hell does he want with it? he asked himself. He was never especially introspective or aesthetically inclined in the old days. Now he wants a highly personalized work of art created for him. Could he have changed? No, I shouldn't think so. His taste in decorating this place was as abominable as ever, and nothing has changed since last I was here. He talks the same as he always did. His intentions, plans, desires seem unaltered. No. This has nothing to do with his sensibilities. What then?
He watched Malacar inject a colorless fluid into his arm.
"What is the drug you took?" he asked.
"A mild sedative, somewhat hallucinogenic. It will be a few minutes before it takes effect."
"But you haven't told me yet what thing I am to look for--to attempt to induce, if necessary--for the work."
"I'm making it easier for you," Malacar told him, as they reclined upon their couches before the globe they had erected. "I will tell you--via Shind--when it is ready. Then all you will have to do is hit your controls and capture it, exactly the way that it is."
"That would seem to imply a moderately strong element of consciousness on your part. This invariably interferes with the strength and clarity of the vision. That is why I prefer to use my own drugs, sir."
"Don't worry. This will be strong and clear."
"How long do you feel it will be before it occurs just as you would have it?"
"Perhaps five minutes. It will come in a flash, but it will remain long enough for you to activate your controls and impose it."
"I will try, sir."
"You will succeed, Mr. Morwin. That is an order. It will be the most difficult one you have ever attempted, I am certain. But I want it--there, before me--when I awaken."
"Yes, sir."
"Why don't you relax for a while? Make whatever mental preparations you do?"
"Yes, sir."
_Shind?_
_Yes, Commander. I am watching. He is still puzzled. He is wondering now why you want it and what it will be. Failing to arrive at any conclusions, he attempts to dismiss these questions for the moment. Soon he will know, he tells himself. He tries to relax, to follow your order, now. He is very tense. His palms perspire and he wipes them on his trousers. He regulates his breathing and his heartbeat. His mind becomes a more peaceful place. His surface thoughts diminish. Now! Now... He does a thing with his mind that I cannot follow, understand. I know that he is readying himself for the exercise of his special talent. Now he does indeed relax. He knows that he is ready. There is no tension in him. He allows himself the joy of reverie. Thoughts arise unbidden, vanish in like fashion. Wisps, rag-tails, highly personal, nothing strong_ ...
_Continue to follow him_.
_I do. Wait. Something, something_ ...
_What is it?_
_I do not know. The globe--something about the globe_ ...
_This globe? The one we made?_
_No, the globe seems only to have served as the stimulus, now that he is relaxing and there are free associations ... This globe ... No. it is another. Different_ ...
_What is it like?_
_Big, and with a backdrop of stars. Inside_ ...
_What?_
_A man. A dead man, but he moves. There is also much equipment. Medical equipment. The globe is a ship--his ship. _B Coli__ ...
_Pels. The dead doctor. Pathologist. I've read some of his papers. What of him?_
_Nothing to Morwin, for the thing is gone now from his mind, and the wispy thoughts have come again. But there was something there for me. --My dream-thing. The thing of which I warned you, the thing that I said he would bear--this is it, somehow. Or connected with it_.
_I will find out_.
_Not from Morwin, for he does not know. it is simply the fact that there is knowledge you will gain in connection with Pels, and that he has brought into your presence a thought of the dead doctor, which menaces you. I-- Commander, forgive me! I am the agent! Had I not told you of my dream of weeks ago, discerned its key just now and told you of this, also, there would be no danger. The way to trouble is through Pels, not Morwin. Better I had remained completely silent. --Simply avoid anything connected with the dead doctor_.