Gander Eye turned and began to walk swiftly toward Crispin's. Slowly, too, came hurrying out. She ran across the bridge to Doc's house and knocked frantically on the door. The door opened and Slowly breathlessly shouted something through the opening. She turned away and saw Gander Eye. She came running to him.
"What's a-coming off?" he flung at her. "Was Struve in there with you and Jim? A-looking at you without no clothes on?"
"He wants to see you," she said between gasps.
"Struve? Next time I catch up to him—"
"No, no, Mr. Jim's the one who wants to see you. He wants to tell you something."
"Maybe I should ought to tell him something."
Doc came out. "Come on, Gander Eye," he called out evenly. "Let's go see what this is all about."
He headed for Crispin's door.
Gander Eye waited only a moment. He saw Slowly run up to the edge of Main Street. She beckoned to Captain Kimber and started telling him something. She gestured wildly, and the Captain stood tense and amazed. Gander Eye couldn't hear, and he wouldn't go back, not now. He quickened his pace to catch up with Doc.
Crispin stood in the open door. He leaned against the jamb. He looked as if he would fall down if he didn't lean. Gander Eye strode past Doc and confronted Crispin.
"Just what in the hell are you a-doing round here?" he blazed. "Did you get Struve in here so he could look at Slowly while she was posing? How'd you like me to just kill you?"
Crispin looked at him wearily. "You needn't bother to do that," he said in a husky voice. "I'm going to be killed anyway."
"What are you talking about, Jim?" asked Doc, coming up beside Gander Eye. "Who's going to kill you, and why?"
"Just wait an hour or so and you can see it happen," said Crispin. "Come inside, both of you."
The painting of the baptism had been taken from the easel. It leaned against a wall. The canvas was ripped from end to end and across, as though by raking slashes of a knife.
"Whoever done that to your picture?" Gander Eye asked him.
"I did it." Crispin swayed on his feet, and his mouth worked nervously. "When a man dies, his work usuaily dies with him. I just anticipated the process a trifle."
"You don't look up to your usual self at that, Jim," said Doc with concern in his voice. "Better tell me what it is, and maybe I can fix up whatever's ailing you."
"No," and Crispin shook his head heavily from side to side. "I'm the only one who can fix anything. I was talking to Slowly, and she talked to me. I told her some things, and she said she refused to listen to them."
"What things was those?" flung out Gander Eye. "Maybe you talked to her about the Beyonders?"
"About the Beyonders—yes. About what they're getting ready to make happen in this world."
"You're travelling several laps ahead of me," said Doc, "but I gather that, whatever you told Slowly, she didn't believe you."
"Oh," Crispin half moaned, "she believed me, all right. But she refused me—refused when I said I was going to save her from what will happen to lots and lots of others, here and elsewhere."
"I don't like none of this kind of talk no way," Gander Eye burst out angrily. "I want to know what the hell it means."
"All right," said Crispin, and he gestured tremblingly to some chairs. "Sit down there, both of you. Let me try to tell you all about it."
XIII
They went to the chairs Crispin pointed out. Gander Eye sat down tensely, scowlingly. Doc took his seat in quiet relaxation, his hands folded in his lap, his spectacled eyes waiting. A moment of silence, while Crispin took two slow paces across the floor. Then he turned to face them. His feet were planted wide apart, as though he sought to brace himself erect.
"I'm going to have to start out with some sort of astronomical talk," he said heavily. "About this universe we live in—the sun, the planets, the stars—all of it. The astronomers sometimes tell us it's finite, really; that there's an end to space. I mean the space we know. It's like a great big soap bubble, expanding and growing all the time."
"I don't get that," confessed Gander Eye, still surly.
"I do, more or less," said Doc. "I've read James Jeans and Alfred North Whitehead, I have their books at home. And I have other books that disagree with this theory of the expanding universe. But what's the point you're making Jim?"
"This expanding universe is like a bubble," said Crispin again. "The whole space we comprehend, the space that contains this world and all the other planets and galaxies, is the film of the bubble. And nobody knows what may be inside or outside, nobody can imagine it or offer any theories about it." He looked at them, as though choosing his words. "Maybe all the past is inside, and we're constantly expanding out into the future."
Gander Eye blinked and shifted his body as he sat. Doc waited motionlessly.
"But if our universe is a gigantic swelling bubble, expanding all the time—" Crispin broke off and made a helpless gesture. "Oh, let me get to the point somehow. This isn't the only bubble universe in existence."
"No, Jim," agreed Doc evenly. "The moment you said that, it made sense."
"Let me ask you two," said Crispin, "are you able to imagine this bubble universe, picture it in your minds?"
"I can, sort of," said Gander Eye. "It takes some heavy thinking. "
"All right." Crispin raised his voice. "What if another bubble universe was swelling and expanding, too, what if it got to where it touched our universe at some point?"
"I get that thought," said Gander Eye, "but I ain't never heard the like of it."
"Neither have I," admitted Doc gravely. "And I'm waiting for the answer to your question, Jim. What if another universe should touch ours? What would happen?"
Crispin seemed to shake all over. "It's happened," he said.
"What are you telling us?" Doc said, his voice sharp at last.
"The truth. A dying man tells the truth, and I don't suppose I have more than half an hour left." Crispin pointed a finger. "I say it's happened here, right here, within five or six miles of where we're talking. Up there on Dogged Mountain where the Kimbers hold their baptism ceremonies."
Gander Eye changed position in his chair again. He thought of telling them that he had been there and had seen the place, but he said nothing. He had a feeling that Crispin already knew about it.
"All right, how long ago did the two universes touch at that point?" Doc was asking, his voice calm again, as though he wanted to know about symptoms in a patient.
"Oh, I can't tell you that exactly," admitted Crispin. "I should say a hundred years ago, maybe more. Anyway," and he twisted his bearded lips, "the universes touched, came together. The point where they touched was just about here, and it made an opening from one universe into the other."
"Understand what he's saying, Gander Eye?" asked Doc, and Gander Eye nodded silently.
"They touched," said Crispin again, "and the creatures of the other universe began to decide how they could come over into this one."
Doc turned his spectacles toward Gander Eye. "Old friend," he said gently, "I'm beginning to realize that I owe you an apology about something."
"Never mind apologizing now, Doc," said Gander Eye. "Just at present, I'm a-harking at Jim here, about this place where he says there's things a-coming through on Dogged Mountain. You said a-hundred years back, Jim. They been a right good spell a-making the trip, ain't they? How come them to tarry by the way?"
"It's not easy for them to manage," said Crispin. "That's why it will be hard on our world at last. The way it must be hard on the Moon when we walk there, on Mars when we reach Mars with manned satellites, maybe get out and walk there, too."
Again Crispin broke off and gestured in his helpless fashion. He moved his trembling lips, as though trying again to choose words.
"There's no point in arguing that such things shouldn't happen," he said. "Who decides what's meant to happen where universes are concerned? The thing happens. It's happening here where we are, and it will be tragically hard on people in the way—even on people who aren't in the way. That's how invasions go."
"They mean to damage us?" asked Doc.
"They got gold and all like that," said Gander Eye. "They tried to give me a couple chunks of gold."
"I know about that happening, Gander Eye," said Crispin wretchedly. "I've been on the inside, I'm only getting out now. There seems to be a notion that you can be of some use in their coming across and getting established here among us."
"Why haven't they become established if they can get through to us?" Doc asked. "As Gander Eye pointed out, they've had plenty of time, a century or so of it."
"They need people, I tell you—human beings of this world!" Crispin's voice rose shakily. "People who have ruled here up to now, and are too dull-witted to see that they aren't going to rule any more!" He dropped his head shaking. "I was one of them," he said. "Of the ones who would help them."
"What you mean is, you ain't a-going to help them no more," said Gander Eye.
"No. I've said I wouldn't. I've given that up. Slowly—she made me understand."
"Well, good for Slowly, then," said Doc, still scientifically calm. "I'm beginning to understand, too. They need help where they can get it, the way the first European settlers had to have the Indians everywhere, to help them through the first winter."
"That's it," said Crispin, more rationally. "They need to use us to get a foothold. It's hard for them to live or move here, in that armor they have to wear."
"Armor?" repeated Doc.
"They need a hot atmosphere, or a hot environment if it isn't an atmosphere. I don't know what temperature, but it must be something above boiling point. They can't live otherwise. So they enclose themselves in armor when they visit here."
"I seen them," put in Gander Eye.
"Like astronauts on the moon," elaborated Crispin. "Carrying their own air, their own temperature, their own pressure—their whole living condition with them, inside those space suits."
"Exactly," agreed Doc. He sounded like someone taking notes.
"Now hold on just a second," spoke up Gander Eye. "What I'm a-waiting to hear tell is how Jim comes to know so much. "
Crispin shuddered again. "I told you that, I'm one of their tame human beings. I was brought up for that, by the Kimbers." He creased his face wretchedly. "And I was sent here to make Sky Notch ready for them."
"The hell you say," muttered Gander Eye. He fumbled out a cigarette and looked at it, but did not light it.
"I'm profoundly interested in everything you say about yourself, Jim," said Doc, "but maybe you'd better start back before you were born. Start with the Kimbers and tell us how these Beyonders —if that's the right name—came among them."
"Yes, I've got to tell you about that. I said, it was long ago, maybe a couple of lifetimes ago. The Beyonders emerged, some of them, painfully and strangely, and the Kimbers thought it was a miraculous appearance. They were afraid, then they were fascinated. The Beyonders came seeking help from these natives and started by giving them gold. And they had some sort of power that made crops grow richly—"
"That's how come your flowers grew up thataway," put in Gander Eye. The anger with which he had entered Crispin's cabin had abated. He was too busy understanding Crispin to be angry.
"That's right. And all these gifts convinced the Kimbers that it was a visitation from heaven. They thought they were visited by some kind of angels— grotesque angels, maybe, but helpful. I suppose some sort of communication was set up. The Beyonders can communicate with some of their tame men."
"How?" wondered Doc.
"I don't know how. I never could do it. But the Kimbers accepted the Beyonders and broke off with the church they'd been going to, and the program started."
"Then the Kimbers are in with them," Doc said.
"No, the Kimbers are under them. They're the first of the human race the Beyonders took over. Since then, they've found more, working various ways through the Kimbers. Bit by bit, year by year, they've used people to help them toward getting established here. Some of these are scientists; maybe there are a few politicians. And the whole takeover is about ready to happen now."
"What for?" burst out Gander Eye. "How come they want in here if they can't breathe our air or stand how cold it is? What in hell do they want from us?"
"What does mankind want from the airless, lifeless moon, or dying Mars, or Jupiter where there's the wrong gravity, the wrong atmosphere, the wrong temperature?" demanded Crispin in his turn. "They found a way to get in here to us, and they have the wish and the method to try it."
"That figures," agreed Doc. "Now then, Jim, back to you. You say you were born here with the Kimbers."
"No, I think I was born in New York. The couple that raised me was of Kimber origin. They may or may not have been my real parents, I can't be sure. But they were fairly good to me, anyway. My father designed type-faces for printers, and my mother taught ceramics—clay modelling—in an art school. We lived in a nice apartment uptown. Friends came in to talk and play bridge. I think most of them may have been in the setup that has been working with the Beyonders. As soon as I was old enough to understand, I was told wonderful stories about the Beyonders and of how some day they would rule the world."
"Rule the world," said Doc after him. "Where did you expect to come into that kind of plan?"
"Oh," said Crispin, "I was taught that I'd be one of the chosen few, the faithful helpers that would get wonderful rewards. But I was also diligently forbidden to talk about these things to anyone."
"Did you ever talk?" asked Doc, half smiling. "Before now, I mean?"
"Yes, once I did, at school. But the other boys and girls only thought I was making it up out of my head. I was considered to be more or less peculiar, anyway. You see, I wanted to draw pictures."
"Which you do mighty well," said Doc.
"Some of the group we knew discussed how my being a painter could be of use to the Beyonders. So I went to art school, and apparently I came here as advance agent. And," Crispin spread his trembling hands again, as though in an appeal for mercy, "that's more or less my story, my friends. I'm telling it to you because I must. Call me a traitor to the whole Beyonder program if you want to."
"Not you," said Doc, who had not once stirred in his chair. "You were brought up to being a traitor to the human race and the world you live in. But you've turned back to humanity, where you belong. Two negatives make a good affirmative."
He rose at last, and tried to put a hand on Crispin's shoulder. Crispin pulled away.
"Never mind trying to comfort me. I'm done for. Struve knew what I was going to do and told me I was done for."
"Is he fetching them Beyonders to kill you?" demanded Gander Eye.
"No, they haven't been in a position to use weapons they have. It'll be Struve who does it. He'll be back before long."
"We can handle Struve," said Gander Eye. "Look, Jim, you got a gun?"
"No gun," said Crispin. "Not even a beanshooter. I wouldn't know how to use a gun, anyway."
"Well, I know how to use one," vowed Gander Eye. "I'll just go over to my place and get me one."
He rose, but Doc caught him by the elbow.
"We've got to hear everything first," he said. "And we've got to know why Jim's decided to tell it to us."
"It was Slowly," said Crispin, swinging around so that his face was almost against the wall.
"You done said something like that already," said Gander Eye, feeling a new rise of angry protest. "What's been betwixt you and her?"
"I tried to tell her what was coming. To tell her that she could be saved—she could be happy under the new rule. And she refused it. She said—"
Crispin's body shook. He seemed to be weeping. Again Doc reached to put his hand on Crispin's shoulder, and this time Crispin allowed it.
"Gander Eye and I believe what you've told us, every word," said Doc emphatically. "We're glad you've said these things, and we're going to help you."
Crispin whirled suddenly around to face them. Tears ran down his cheeks and twinkled in his beard.
"You can't help me, Doc," he wept. "Struve had sneaked into that back room and heard me tell Slowly, and he went away to bring those who will kill me."
"We'll help you," said Gander Eye.
"You can't. You don't understand. When the Beyonders are brought in, it will be . . . the end of things you know!" His voice turned shrill. "What Hitler did, what Attila and his Huns did, what Genghis Khan did—those are nothing! Whatever sort of life any human being has ever thought to live, it will simply come to an end!"
Gander Eye, too, walked close to Crispin. 'Take it easy, Jim," he pleaded. "Just how do you reckon they'll go about putting us under thataway?"
"The logical way, the certain way," jabbered Crispin. "It's all set up. They can't work straight out of their way in—they need a place like this with electricity and so on. But it's all set up, with people in other towns, in other countries, to keep it going. There'll be a gathering of scientists here at Sky Notch—"
"That ought to be what's needed," said Doc. "A gathering of scientists."
"But scientists don't ever understand anything," burst out Crispin. "All they'll think of is the scientific excitement, with an alien visit to the world. The greatest minds in our science will hurry here to welcome them in and never think for a minute what it can mean."