Second Variety and Other Stories (11 page)

"The other attacks followed the same pattern?"

"No one has seen him but you?"

"Just the two of us. I called you when I was certain. It's almost over. He's coming out of it."

On the other side of the glass Jon stood up and walked away from his bed, his arms folded. His
blond hair hung down raggedly in his face. His eyes were still shut. His face was pale and set. His lips
twitched.

"He was completely unconscious at first. I had left him alone for awhile. I was in another part of
the building. When I came back I found him lying on the floor. He had been reading. The spools were
scattered all around him. His face was blue. His breathing was irregular. There were repeated muscular
spasms, as before."

"What did you do?"

"I entered the room and carried him to the bed. He was rigid at first, but after a few minutes he
began to relax. His body became limp. I tested his pulse. It was very slow. Breathing was coming more
easily. And then it began."

"It?"

"The talk."

"Oh." Ryan nodded.

"I wish you could have been here. He talked more than ever before. On and on. Streams of it.
Without pause. As if he couldn't stop."

"Was -- was it the same talk as before?"

"Exactly the same as it's always been. And his face was lit up. Glowing. As before."

Ryan considered. "Is it all right for me to go into the room?"

"Yes. It's almost over."

Ryan moved to the door. His fingers pressed against the code lock and the door slid back into
the wall.

Jon did not notice him as he came quietly into the room. He paced back and forth, eyes shut, his
arms wrapped around his body. He swayed a little, rocking from side to side. Ryan came to the center of
the room and stopped.

"Jon!"

The boy blinked. His eyes opened. He shook his head rapidly. "Ryan? What -- what did you
want?"

"Better sit down."

Jon nodded. "Yes. Thank you." He sat down on the bed uncertainly. His eyes were wide and
blue. He pushed his hair back out of his face, smiling a little at Ryan.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel all right."

Ryan sat down across from him, drawing a chair over. He crossed his legs, leaning back. For a
long time he studied the boy. Neither of them spoke. "Grant says you had a little attack," Ryan said
finally.

Jon nodded.

"You're over it now?"

"Oh, yes. How is the time ship coming?"

"Fine."

"You promised I could see it, when it's ready."

"You can. When it's completely done."

"When will that be?"

"Soon. A few more days."

"I want to see it very much. I've been thinking about it. Imagine going into time. You could go
back to Greece. You could go back and see Pericles and Xenophon and -- and Epictetus. You could go
back to Egypt and talk to Ikhnaton." He grinned. "I can't wait to see it."

Ryan shifted. "Jon, do you really think you're well enough to go outside? Maybe --"

Ryan shifted. "Jon, do you really think you're well enough to go outside? Maybe --"

"Your attacks. You really think you should go out? Are you strong enough?"

Jon's face clouded. "They're not attacks. Not really. I wish you wouldn't call them attacks."

"Not attacks? What are they?"

Jon hesitated. "I -- I shouldn't tell you, Ryan. You wouldn't understand."

Ryan stood up. "All right, Jon. If you feel you can't talk to me I'll go back to the lab." He crossed
the room to the door. "It's a shame you can't see the ship. I think you'd like it."

Jon followed him plaintively. "Can't I see it?"

"Maybe if I knew more about your -- your attacks I'd know whether you're well enough to go
out."

Jon's face flickered. Ryan watched him intently. He could see thoughts crossing Jon's mind,
written on his features. He struggled inwardly.

"Don't you want to tell me?"

Jon took a deep breath. "They're visions."

"What?"

"They're visions." Jon's face was alive with radiance. "I've known it a long time. Grant says
they're not, but they are. If you could see them you'd know, too. They're not like anything else. More real
than, well, than this." He thumped the wall. "More real than that."

Ryan lit a cigarette slowly. "Go on."

It all came with a rush. "More real than anything else! Like looking through a window. A
window into another world. A real world. Much more real than this. It makes all this just a shadow
world. Only dim shadows. Shapes. Images."

"Shadows of an ultimate reality?"

"Yes! Exactly. The world behind all this." Jon paced back and forth, animated by excitement.
"This, all these things. What we see here. Buildings. The sky. The cities. The endless ash. None is quite
real. It's so dim and vague! I don't really feel it, not like the other. And it's becoming less real, all the time.
The other is growing, Ryan. Growing more and more vivid! Grant told me it's only my imagination. But
it's not. It's real. More real than any of these things here, these things in this room."

"Then why can't we all see it?"

"I don't know. I wish you could. You ought to see it, Ryan. It's beautiful. You'd like it, after you
got used to it. It takes time to adjust."

Ryan considered. "Tell me," he said at last. "I want to know exactly what you see. Do you
always see the same thing?"

"Yes. Always the same. But more intensely."

"What is it? What do you see that's so real?"

Jon did not answer for awhile. He seemed to have withdrawn. Ryan waited, watching his son.
What was going on in his mind? What was he thinking? The boy's eyes were shut again. His hands were
pressed together, the fingers white. He was off again, off in his private world.

"Go on," Ryan said aloud.

So it was visions the boy saw. Visions of ultimate reality. Like the Middle Ages. His own son.
There was a grim irony in it. Just when it seemed they had finally licked that proclivity in man, his eternal
inability to face reality. His eternal dreaming. Would science never be able to realize its ideal? Would man
always go on preferring illusion to reality?

His own son. Retrogression. A thousand years lost. Ghosts and gods and devils and the secret
inner world. The world of ultimate reality. All the fables and fictions and metaphysics that man had used
for centuries to compensate for his fear, his terror of the world. All the dreams he had made up to hide
the truth, the harsh world of reality. Myths, religions, fairy tales. A better land, beyond and above.
Paradise. All coming back, reappearing again, and in his own son.

"Go on," Ryan said impatiently. "What do you see?"

"I see fields," Jon said. "Yellow fields as bright as the sun. Fields and parks. Endless parks.

Green, mixed in with the yellow. Paths, for people to walk."

Green, mixed in with the yellow. Paths, for people to walk."

"Men and women. In robes. Walking along the paths, among the trees. The air fresh and sweet.
The sky bright blue. Birds. Animals. Animals moving through the parks. Butterflies. Oceans. Lapping
oceans of clear water."

"No cities?"

"Not like our cities. Not the same. People living in the parks. Little wood houses here and there.
Among the trees."

"Roads?"

"Only paths. No ships or anything. Only walking."

"What else do you see?"

"That's all." Jon opened his eyes. His cheeks were flushed. His eyes sparkled and danced.
"That's all, Ryan. Parks and yellow fields. Men and women in robes. And so many animals. The
wonderful animals."

"How do they live?"

"What?"

"How do the people live? What keeps them alive?"

"They grow things. In the fields."

"Is that all? Don't they build? Don't they have factories?"

"I don't think so."

"An agrarian society. Primitive." Ryan frowned. "No business or commerce."

"They work in the fields. And discuss things."

"Can you hear them?"

"Very faintly. Sometimes I can hear them a little, if I listen very hard. I can't make out any words,
though."

"What are they discussing?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

Jon gestured vaguely. "Great things. The world. The universe."

There was silence. Ryan grunted. He did not say anything. Finally he put out his cigarette. "Jon
--"

"Yes?"

"You think what you see is real?"

Jon smiled. "I know it's real."

Ryan's gaze was sharp. "What do you mean, real? In what way is this world of yours real?"

"It exists."

"Where does it exist?"

"I don't know."

"Here? Does it exist here?"

"No. It's not here."

"Some place else? A long way off? Some other part of the universe beyond our range of
experience?"

"Not another part of the universe. It has nothing to do with space. It's here." Jon waved around
him. "Close by. It's very close. I see it all around me."

"Do you see it now?"

"No. It comes and goes."

"It ceases to exist? It only exists sometimes?"

"No, it's always there. But I can't always make contact with it."

"How do you know it's always there?"

"I just know."

"Why can't I see it? Why are you the only one who can see it?"

"I don't know." Jon rubbed his forehead wearily. "I don't know why I'm the only one who can
see it. I wish you could see it. I wish everybody could see it."

"I don't know." Jon rubbed his forehead wearily. "I don't know why I'm the only one who can
see it. I wish you could see it. I wish everybody could see it."

"Maybe it can't. I don't know. I don't care. I don't want to present it for empirical analysis."

There was silence. Jon's face was set and grim, his jaw tight. Ryan sighed. Impasse.

"All right, Jon." He moved slowly toward the door. I'll see you later."

Jon said nothing.

At the door Ryan halted, looking back. "Then your visions are getting stronger, aren't they?
Progressively more vivid."

Jon nodded curtly.

Ryan considered awhile. Finally he raised his hand. The door slid away and he passed outside
the room, into the hall.

Grant came up to him. "I was watching through the window. He's quite withdrawn, isn't he?"

"It's difficult to talk to him. He seems to believe these attacks are some kind of vision."

"I know. He's told me."

"Why didn't you let me know?"

"I didn't want to alarm you more. I know you've been worried about him."

"The attacks are getting worse. He says they're more vivid. More convincing."

Grant nodded.

Ryan moved along the corridor, deep in thought, Grant a little behind. "It's difficult to be certain
of the best course of action. The attacks absorb him more and more. He's beginning to take them
seriously. They're usurping the place of the outside world. And in addition --"

"And in addition you're leaving soon."

"I wish we knew more about time travel. A great number of things may happen to us." Ryan
rubbed his jaw. "We might not come back. Time is a potent force. No real exploration has been done.
We have no idea what we may run into."

He came to the lift and stopped.

"I'll have to make my decision right away. It has to be made before we leave."

"Your decision?"

Ryan entered the lift. "You'll know about it later. Watch Jon constantly from now on. Don't be
away from him for even a moment. Do you understand?"

Grant nodded. "I understand. You want to be sure he doesn't leave his room."

"You'll hear from me either tonight or tomorrow." Ryan ascended to the roof and entered his
inter-city ship.

As soon as he was in the sky he clicked on the vidscreen and dialed the League Offices. The
face of the League Monitor appeared. "Offices."

"Give me the medical center."

The monitor faded. Presently Walter Timmer, the medical director, appeared on the screen. His
eyes flickered as he recognized Ryan. "What can I do for you, Caleb?"

"I want you to get out a medical car and a few good men and come over here to City Four."

"Why?"

"It's a matter I discussed with you several months ago. You recall, I think."

Timmer's expression changed. "Your son?"

"I've decided. I can't wait any longer. He's getting worse, and we'll be leaving soon on the time
trip. I want it performed before I leave."

"All right." Timmer made a note. "We'll make immediate arrangements here. And we'll send a
ship over to pick him up at once."

Ryan hesitated. "You'll do a good job?"

"Of course. We'll have James Pryor perform the actual operation." Timmer reached up to cut the
vidscreen circuit. "Don't worry, Caleb. He'll do a good job. Pryor is the best lobotomist the center has."

vidscreen circuit. "Don't worry, Caleb. He'll do a good job. Pryor is the best lobotomist the center has."

Kastner peered over his shoulder. "Will we be confined to the one Project -- getting
Schonerman's papers? Or can we move around?"

"Only the one Project is contemplated. But to be certain of success we should make several
stops on this side of Schonerman's continuum. Our time map may be inaccurate, or the drive itself may
act with some bias."

The work was finished. All the final sections were put in place.

In a corner of the room Jon sat watching, his face expressionless. Ryan glanced toward him.
"How does it look to you?"