Brain Wave (21 page)

Now—one quick jerk with her teeth.

THUNDER AND FIRE AND SHATTERING DARKNESS

RUIN AND HORROR AND LIGHTNING

PAIN PAIN PAIN

“HELLO, Earth. Peter Corinth calling Earth from Star Ship I, homeward bound.”

Buzz and murmur of cosmic interference, the talking of the stars. Earth a swelling blue brilliance against night, her moon like a pearl hung on the galaxy’s breast, the sun wreathed in flame.

“Hello, Earth. Come in, come in. Can you hear me, Earth?”

Click, click, zzzzz, mmmmmm, voices across the sky.

Hello, Sheila!

The planet grew before them. The ship’s drive purred and rumbled, every plate in the hull trembled with thrusting energies, there was a wild fine singing in the crystals of the metal. Corinth realized that he was shaking too, but he didn’t want to control himself, not now.

“Hello, Earth,” he said monotonously into the radio. They were moving well under the speed of light and their signal probed blindly ahead of them, through the dark. “Hello, Earth, can you hear me? This is Star Ship I, calling from space, homeward bound.”

Lewis growled something which meant: (Maybe they’ve given up radio since we left. All these months—”

Corinth shook his head: “TLey’d still have monitors of some kind, I’m sure.” To the microphone: “Hello, Earth, come in, Earth. Anyone on Earth hear me?”

“If some ham—a five-year-old kid, I bet, in Russia or India or Africa—picks it up, he’ll have to get the word to a transmitter which can reach us,” said Lewis. “It takes time. Just relax, Pete.”

“A matter of time!” Corinth turned from the seat. “You’re right, I suppose. We’ll make planetfall in hours, anyway. But I did want to have a real welcome prepared for us!”

“A dozen Limfjord oysters on the half shell, with lots of lemon juice,” said Lewis dreamily, speaking all the words aloud. “Rhine wine, of course—say a ’37. Baby shrimp in fresh mayonnaise, on French bread with freshchurned butter. Smoked eel with cold scrambled eggs on pumpernickel, don’t forget the chives—”

Corinth grinned, though half his mind was lost with Sheila, off alone with her in some place of sunlight. It was good, it felt strangely warm, to sit and exchange commonplaces, even if those were overtly little more than a word and a shift of expression. All the long way home, they had argued like drunken gods, exploring their own intellects; but it had been a means of shutting out the stupendous dark quiet. Now they were back to man’s hearth fire.

“Hello, Star Ship I.”

They jerked wildly about to face the receiver. The voice that came was faint, blurred with the noise of sun and stars, but it was human. It was home.

“Why,” whispered Lewis in awe, “why, he’s even got a Brooklyn accent.”

“Hello, Star Ship I. This is New York calling you. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” said Corinth, his throat dry, and waited for the signal to leap across millions of miles.

“Had a devil of a time getting you,” said the voice conversationally, after the time lag had gone by in whining, crackling blankness. “Had to allow for Doppler effect—you must be coming in like a bat out of Chicago, are your pants on fire or something?” He mentioned nothing of the engineering genius which had made communication possible at all; it was a minor job now. “Congratulations, though! All okay?”

“Fine,” said Lewis. “Had some trouble, but we’re coming
home in one piece and expect to be greeted properly.” He hesitated for a moment. “How’s Earth?”

“Good enough. Though I’ll bet you won’t recognize the place. Things are changing so fast it’s a real relief to talk good old United States once again. Prolly the last time I’ll ever do it. What the devil happened to you, anyway?”

“We’ll explain later,” said Corinth shortly. “How are our—associates?”

“Okay, I guess. I’m just a technician at Brookhaven, you know, I’m not acquainted. But I’ll pass the word along. You’ll land here, I suppose?”

“Yes, in about—” Corinth made a swift estimate involving the simultaneous solution of a number of differential equations. “Six hours.”

“Okay, we’ll—” The tone faded away. They caught one more word, “—band—” and then there was only the stillness.

“Hello, New York, you’ve lost the beam,” said Corinth. “Ah, forget it,” said Lewis. “Turn it off, why don’t you?”

“But—”

“We’ve waited so long that we can wait six hours more. Isn’t worthwhile tinkering around that way.”

“Ummmm—well—” Corinth yielded. “Hello, New York. Hello, Earth. This is Star Ship I signing off. Over and out.”

“I did want to talk to Sheila,” he added.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that, laddy,” answered Lewis. “I think right now we ought to be taking a few more observations on the drive. It’s got a fluttery note that might mean something. Nobody’s ever operated one continuously as long as we have, and there may be cumulative effects—”

“Crystal fatigue, perhaps,” said Corinth. “Okay, you win.” He gave himself to his instruments.

Earth grew before them. They, who had crossed light-years in hours, had to limp home now at mere hundreds of miles a second; even their new reactions weren’t fast enough to handle translight speeds this near a planet. But theirs would probably be the last ship so limited, thought Corinth. At the fantastic rate of post-change technological
advance, the next vessel should be a dream of perfection: as if the Wright brothers had built a transatlantic clipper for their second working model. He imagined that his own lifetime would see engineering carried to some kind of ultimate, reaching the bounds imposed by natural law. Thereafter man would have to find a new field of intellectual adventure, and he thought he knew what it would be. He looked at the swelling lovely planet with a kind of tenderness.
Ave atque vale!

The crescent became a ragged, cloudy disc as they swung around toward the day side. Then, subtly, it was no longer before them but below them, and they heard the first thin shriek of cloven air. They swept over a vastness of moonlit Pacific, braking, and saw dawn above the Sierra Nevada. America fell beneath them, huge and green and beautiful, a strong-ribbed land, and the Mississippi was a silver thread across her. Then they slanted down, and the spires of Manhattan rose against the sea.

Corinth’s heart slammed in the cage of his breast.
Be still
, he told it,
be still and wait. There is time now
. He guided the ship toward Brookhaven, where the spacefield was a slash of gray, and saw another bright spear cradled there. So they had already begun on the next ship.

There was a tiny shock as the hull found its berth. Lewis reached over to cut off the engines. When they died, Corinth’s ears rang with the sudden quiet. He had not realized how much a part of him that ceaseless drumming was.

“Come on!” He was out of his seat and across the narrow cabin before Lewis had stirred. His fingers trembled as they wove across the intricate pattern of the electronic lock. The inner door swung smoothly open, and then the outer door was open too, and he caught a breath of salt air, blown in from the sea.

Sheila! Where is Sheila?
He tumbled down the ladder in the cradle, his form dark against the metal of the hull. It was pocked and blistered, that metal, streaked with curious crystallization-patterns, the ship had traveled far and strangely. When he hit the ground he overbalanced, falling, but he was up again before anyone could help him.

“Sheila,” he cried.

Felix Mandelbaum stepped forth, holding out his hands.
He looked very old and tired, burned out by strain. He took Corinth’s hands in his own but did not speak.

“Where’s Sheila?” whispered Corinth. “Where is she?”

Mandelbaum shook his head. Lewis was climbing down now, more cautiously. Rossman went to meet him, looking away from Corinth. The others followed—they were all Brookhaven people, no close friends, but they looked away.

Corinth tried to swallow and couldn’t. “Dead?” he asked. The wind murmured around him, ruffling his hair. “No,” said Mandelbaum. “Nor is she mad. But—”

He shook his head, and the beaked face wrinkled up. “No.”

Corinth drew a breath that shuddered in his lungs. Looking at him, they saw the blankness of will descend. He would not let himself weep.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Tell me.”

“It was about six weeks ago,” Mandelbaum said. “She couldn’t stand any more, I guess. She got hold of an electric-shock machine.”

Corinth nodded, very slowly. “And destroyed her brain,” he finished.

“No. Not that, though it was touch and go for a while.” Mandelbaum took the physicist’s arm. “Let’s put it this way: she is the old Sheila, like before the change. Almost.”

Corinth was dimly aware how fresh and live the sea wind felt in his nostrils.

“Come along, Pete,” said Mandelbaum. “I’ll take you to her.”

Corinth followed him off the field.

   The psychiatrist Kearnes met them at Bellevue. His face was like wood, but there was no feeling of shame in him and none of blame in Corinth. The man had done his best, with the inadequate knowledge at his disposal, and failed; that was a fact of reality, nothing more.

“She fooled me,” he said. “I thought she was straightening out. I didn’t realize how much control even an insane person would have with the changed nervous system. Nor, I suppose, did I realize how hard it was for her all along. None of us who endured the change will ever know what
a nightmare it must have been for those who couldn’t adapt.”

Dark wings beating, and Sheila alone. Nightfall, and Sheila alone
.

“She was quite insane when she did it?” asked Corinth. His voice was flat.

“What is sanity? Perhaps she did the wisest thing. Was the eventual prospect of being cured, when we learn how, worth that kind of existence?”

“What were the effects?”

“Well, it was a clumsy job, of course. Several bones were broken in the convulsions, and she’d have died if she hadn’t been found in time.” Kearnes laid a hand on Corinth’s shoulder. “The actual volume of destroyed cerebral tissue was small, but of course it was in the most critical area of the brain.”

“Felix told me she’s—making a good recovery.”

“Oh, yes.” Kearnes smiled wryly, as if he had a sour taste in his mouth. “It isn’t hard for us to understand pre-change human psychology—now. I used the triple-pronged approach developed by Gravenstein and de la Garde since the change. Symbological re-evaluation, cybernetic neurology, and somatic co-ordination treatments. There was enough sound tissue to take over the functions of the damaged part, with proper guidance, once the psychosis had been lifted. I think she can be discharged from here in about three months.”

He drew a deep breath. “She will be a normal, healthy pre-change human with an I.Q. of about 150.”

“I see—” Corinth nodded. “Well—what are the chances of restoring her?”

“It will take years, at best, before we’re able to recreate nervous tissue. It doesn’t regenerate, you know, even with artificial stimulation. We’ll have to create life itself synthetically, and telescope a billion years of evolution to develop the human brain cell, and duplicate the precise gene pattern of the patient, and even then—I wonder.”

“I see.”

“You can visit her for a short while. We have told her you were alive.”

“What did she do?”

“Cried a good deal, of course. That’s a healthy symptom. You can stay about half an hour if you don’t excite her too much.” Kearnes gave him the room number and went back into his office.

Corinth took the elevator and walked down a long quiet hallway that smelled of rain-wet roses. When he came to Sheila’s room, the door stood ajar and he hesitated a little, glancing in. It was like a forest bower, ferns and trees and the faint twitter of nesting birds; a waterfall was running somewhere, and the air had the tingle of earth and greenness. Mostly illusion, he supposed, but if it gave her comfort—

He went in, over to the bed which rested beneath a sun-dappled willow. “Hello, darling,” he said.

The strangest thing was that she hadn’t changed. She looked as she had when they were first married, young and fair, her hair curled softly about a face which was still a little pale, her eyes full of luster as they turned to him. The white nightgown, a fluffy thing from her own wardrobe, made her seem only half grown.

“Pete,” she said.

He stooped over and kissed her, very gently. Her response was somehow remote, almost like a stranger’s. As her hands caressed his face, he noticed that the wedding ring was gone.

“You lived.” She spoke it with a kind of wonder. “You came back.”

“To you, Sheila,” he said, and sat down beside her.

She shook her head. “No,” she answered.

“I love you,” he said in his helplessness.

“I loved you too.” Her voice was still quiet, far away, and he saw the dreaminess in her eyes. “That’s why I did this.”

He sat holding himself in, fighting for calm. There were thunders in his head.

“I don’t remember you too well, you know,” she said. “I suppose my memory was damaged a little. It all seems many years ago, and you like a dream I loved.” She smiled. “How thin you are, Pete! And hard, somehow. Everybody has grown so hard.”

“No,” he said. “They all care for you.”

“It isn’t the old kind of caring. Not the kind I knew. And you aren’t Pete anymore.” She sat up, her voice rising a little. “Pete died in the change. I watched him die. You’re a nice man, and it hurts me to look at you, but you aren’t Pete.”

“Take it easy, darling,” he said.

“I couldn’t go ahead with you,” she said, “and I wouldn’t give you—or myself—that kind of burden. Now I’ve gone back. And you don’t know how wonderful it is. Lonely but wonderful. There’s peace in it.”

“I still want you,” he said.

“No. Don’t lie to me. Don’t you see, it isn’t necessary.” Sheila smiled across a thousand years. “You can sit there like that, your face all frozen—why, you aren’t Pete. But I wish you well.”

He knew then what she needed, and let himself go, surrendering will and understanding. He knelt by her bed and wept, and she comforted him as well as she could.