Ah, your father! There seemed to be a great chortling of delight. Ah, yes, your father! It is not can I, you know, young lady, but will I?
Will you, then?
That depends on a number of things. Why do you want your father?
Didnt you ever have a father yourself? Meg demanded. You dont want him for a reason. You want him because hes your father.
Ah, but he hasnt been acting very like a father lately, has he? Abandoning his wife and his four little children to go gallivanting off on wild adventures of his own.
He was working for the government. Hed never have left us otherwise. And we want to see him, please. Right now.
My, but the little miss is impatient! Patience, patience, young lady.
Meg did not tell the man on the chair that patience was not one of her virtues.
And by the way, my children, he continued blandly, you dont need to vocalize verbally with me, you know. I can understand you quite as well as you can understand me.
Charles Wallace put his hands on his hips defiantly. The spoken word is one of the triumphs of man, he proclaimed, and I intend to continue using it, particularly with people I dont trust. But his voice was shaking. Charles Wallace, who even as an infant had seldom cried, was near tears.
And you dont trust me?
What reason have you given us to trust you?
What cause have I given you for distrust? The thin lips curled slightly.
Suddenly Charles Wallace darted forward and hit the man as hard as he could, which was fairly hard, as he had had a good deal of coaching from the twins.
Charles! Meg screamed.
The men in dark smocks moved smoothly but with swiftness to Charles. The man in the chair casually raised one finger, and the men dropped back.
Hold it Calvin whispered, and together he and Meg darted forward and grabbed Charles Wallace, pulling him back from the platform.
The man gave a wince and the thought of his voice was a little breathless, as though Charles Wallaces punch had succeeded in winding him. May I ask why you did that?
Because you arent you, Charles Wallace said. Im not sure what you are, but you he pointed to the man on the chair arent whats talking to us. Im sorry if I hurt you. I didnt think you were real. I thought perhaps you were a robot, because I dont feel anything coming directly from you. Im not sure where its coming from, but its coming through you. It isnt you.
Pretty smart, arent you? the thought asked, and Meg had an uncomfortable feeling that she detected a snarl.
Its not that Im smart, Charles Wallace said, and again Meg could feel the palm of his hand sweating inside hers.
Try to find out who I am, then, the thought probed.
I have been trying, Charles Wallace said, his voice high and troubled.
Look into my eyes. Look deep within them and I will tell you.
Charles Wallace looked quickly at Meg and Calvin, then said, as though to himself, I have to, and focused his dear blue eyes on the red ones of the man in the chair. Meg looked not at the man but at her brother. After a moment it seemed that his eyes were no longer focusing. The pupils grew smaller and smaller, as though he were looking into an intensely bright light, until they seemed to close entirely, until his eyes were nothing but an opaque blue. He slipped his hands out of Megs and Calvins and started walking slowly towards the man on the chair.
No! Meg screamed. No!
But Charles Wallace continued his slow walk forward, and she knew that he had not heard her.
No! she screamed again, and ran after him. With her inefficient flying tackle she landed on him. She was so much larger than he that he fell sprawling, hitting his head a sharp crack against the marble floor. She knelt by him, sobbing. After a moment of lying there as though he had been knocked out by the blow, he opened his eyes, shook his head, and sat up. Slowly the pupils of his eyes dilated until they were back to normal, and the blood came back to his white cheeks.
The man on the chair spoke directly into Megs mind, and now there was a distinct menace to the words. I am not pleased, he said to her. I could very easily lose patience with you, and that, for your information, young lady, would not be good for your father. If you have the slightest desire to see your father again, you had better cooperate.
Meg reacted as she sometimes reacted to Mr Jenkins at school. She scowled down at the ground in sullen fury. It might help if you gave us something to eat, she complained.Were all starved. If youre going to be horrible to us you might as well give us full stomachs first.
Again the thoughts coming at her broke into laughter. Isnt she the funny girl, though! Its lucky for you that you amuse me, my dear, or I shouldnt be so easy on you. The boys I find not nearly so diverting. Ah, well. Now, tell me, young lady, if I feed you will you stop interfering with me?
No, Meg said.
Starvation does work wonders, of course, the man told her. I hate to use such primitive methods on you, but of course you realize that you force them on me.
I wouldnt eat your old food, anyhow. Meg was still all churned up and angry as though she were in Mr Jenkinss office. I wouldnt trust it.
Of course our food, being synthetic, is superior to your messes of beans and bacon and so forth; I assure you that its far more nourishing, and though it has no taste of its own, a slight conditioning is all that is necessary to give you the illusion that you are eating a roast turkey dinner.
If I ate now Id be sick, anyhow, Meg said.
Still holding Megs and Calvins hands, Charles Wallace stepped forward. Okay, what next? he asked the man on the chair. Weve had enough of these preliminaries. Lets get on with it.
Thats exactly what we were doing, the man said, until your sister interfered by practically giving you a brain concussion. Shall we try again?
No! Meg cried. No, Charles. Please. Let me do it. Or Calvin.
But it is only the little boy whose neurological system is complex enough. If you tried to conduct the necessary neurons your brains would explode.
And Charless wouldnt?
I think not.
But theres a possibility?
Theres always a possibility.
Then he mustnt do it.
I think you will have to grant him the right to make his own decisions.
But Meg, with the dogged tenacity that had so often caused her trouble, continued, You mean Calvin and I cant know who you really are?
Oh, no, I didnt say that.You cant know it in the same way, nor is it as important to me to have you know. Ah, here we are! From somewhere in the shadows appeared four more men in dark smocks carrying a table. It was covered with a white cloth, like the tables used by Room Service in hotels, and held a metal hot box containing something that smelled delicious, something that smelled like a turkey dinner.
Theres something phoney in the whole set-up, Meg thought. There is definitely something rotten in the state of Camazotz.
Again the thoughts seemed to break into laughter. Of course it doesnt really smell, but isnt it as good as though it really did?
I dont smell anything, Charles Wallace said.
I know, young man, and think how much youre missing. This will all taste to you as though you were eating sand. But I suggest that you force it down. I would rather not have your decisions come from the weakness of an empty stomach.
The table was set up in front of them, and the dark-smocked men heaped their plates with turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes and gravy and little green peas with big yellow blobs of butter melting in them and cranberries and sweet potatoes topped with gooey browned marshmallows and olives and celery and rosebud radishes and