It was necessary for him to ring a bell manually, by means of a metal button fixed1 to the wooden frame of the front door. No scanner announced his arrival, nor did any soundless auto-door respond to a beam transmitted from within the house. After a time Hunter heard footsteps. A strange woman—probably a new resident who had taken Ann's place—opened the door.
"I'm Captain Hunter," he said. "I came to see Mrs. Ames."
"Won't you come in, Captain?" the woman replied.
She led him into a front room which, Ann had once told him, had been called a living room. A peculiar2 name, surely, for the room appeared to have been designed solely3 as a place to sit while watching Tri-D—or flat-screen television, as it had been called in its early developmental stage when the house was new—or to hear someone play the bulky instrument known as a piano.
The room was an example of the appalling4 waste of space so common to the twentieth century. It was extremely spacious5, but neither food tubes nor bed drawers were concealed6 in the walls.
Hunter had always been curious about the piano. It amazed him that it had been operated entirely7 by hand. There was no electric scanner to read the mood of the player and interpret it in melody. Driven to contrive8 his own harmonics, how could the twentieth century man have derived9 any satisfaction at all from music? His sensibilities had been immature10, of course. But even so, an instrument which demanded so much individual creativeness must have been an enormous frustration11.
Since so many surviving twentieth century machines made the same demand on the individual—their automobiles12, for example, had been individually directed, without any sort of electronic safety control—it had puzzled both Hunter and Ann that the incidence of maladjustment in the past had been so low.
The captain dropped into a comfortable, chintz-covered rocking chair—one relic13 in this island of time that he really enjoyed. "Will you tell Mrs. Ames I'm here?" he asked the stranger.
"I'm Mrs. Ames."
"I mean Mrs. Janice Ames—the owner of the house."
The woman smiled woodenly. "You're speaking to her, Captain, though I must say I don't remember ever having met you before."
"You don't remember—"
Fear clutched at his heart. He sprang up, moving toward her with clenched14 fists. "An hour ago I called Mrs. Ames from the spaceport. I saw her. Here—in this room."
"I've owned this house all my life, Captain." Her expression was more than good acting15. She spoke16 with utter conviction, and seemed completely sure of herself. "You must be—" She hesitated and looked at him sharply. "Have you checked your adjustment index recently?"
"I haven't lost my mind, if that's what you're getting at," he said. "Where's Ann Saymer?"
"Believe me, please. The name is totally unfamiliar17 to me." The woman was painfully sympathetic—and frankly18 scared. She backed away from him. "You need help from the clinic, Captain. Will you let me call them for you?"
Suddenly the light fell full on her face, and Hunter saw the tiny, still-unhealed scalpel wounds on both sides of her skull19. The light glowed on the microscopic20 filament21 of platinum22 wire clumsily left projecting through the incision23.
He understood, then. This woman was wearing one of Ann's patented grids24, sealed into her cerebral25 cortex. It made her into a robot, responding with unquestioning obedience26 to the direction of Ann's transmitter. And Hunter had no doubt that United manipulated the transmission.
Simultaneously27 he realized something else. If the cartel went to this extreme to forestall28 his search for Ann, she must still be alive. For some reason they still needed her. Possibly her patent drawings had been submitted for government registry in such a way that only Ann understood them.
Ann had been through the general school, and knew what the score was. She would have protected her invention—and incidentally insured her own survival—if she could have possibly done so, even at a fearful risk to herself.
Hunter swung toward the door. It did not occur to him to call the police, since they were all cartel mercenaries. Whatever he did to help Ann, he would have to do on his own. Until he found her, he could count on help from Consolidated29. After that—nothing.
He jerked open the front door—and froze. Three men were waiting on the porch with drawn30 blasters. Hunter had no time to recognize facial features which it might have been to his advantage to remember later, no time to find any identifying insignia on their tunics31. With a barely visible flickering32 fire arced from one of the weapons, and pain exploded in his body, unconsciousness washed into his brain.
His first sensation when the paralysis33 began to wear off was the dull ache of visceral nausea34. He opened his eyes, and saw, bleakly35 shadowed, the living room of the Ames house. It was after dark, which could only mean that he had lain there nearly four hours. To knock him out for that period of time, they must have given him a nearly lethal36 charge from the blaster calculated just under the limit of physical endurance.
His motor control and his sense of touch returned more slowly. For a quarter of an hour he lay helpless in the chintz-covered rocker, feeling nothing but a tingling37, like pin-pricks of fire, in his arms and legs.
He looked down and saw that he held a blaster in his hand—his own blaster, which he had left in his room in the Roost. He did not yet have the neural38 control to release his fingers from the firing dial.
As his sense of hearing was restored, he became aware that the Tri D had been left on. The screen pictured the swirling39 confusion of a mob. An announcer was describing the sudden outburst of labor40 violence which had occurred in the industrial district that afternoon. Eric Young's U.F.W. had gone on strike against a dozen separate plants.
Essential plants, naturally. Everything was always essential, and government spokesmen always made pretty speeches deploring41 the situation. It was a pattern familiar to Hunter for years. One of the cartels would pay Young to strike factories belonging to the other. Then a second bribe42, paid by the struck cartel, bought off the strike. Occasionally a sop43 of bonus credits had to be dished out to the faithful.
It was not a maneuver44 either Consolidated or United used frequently, because the advantage was transitory, and the only long-term winner was Eric Young.
This time there was a slight variation in the formula. Young had struck plants of both cartels. That puzzled Hunter, but any curiosity he felt was subordinate to his disgust. How much longer would this farce45 go on before it dawned on the rank and file of the U.F.W. that Eric Young was playing them all for suckers? Hunter tried to get up to snap off the telecast. He managed only to throw himself awkwardly over the arm of the chair.
And then he saw the body on the floor—the body of the genuine Mrs. Ames, charred46 by a ragged47 blaster wound seared through her breast. They had murdered her—naturally with his blaster—and left him at the scene, neatly48 framed for the crime.
Hunter heard—right on cue—the whine49 of a police siren outside. Everything timed to trap him just as the motor paralysis wore off! With an effort that brought beads50 of sweat to his forehead, he dropped his blaster and pushed himself out of the chair. His feet were numb51. He moved a few steps and banged into the piano. Clawing for support, his hands crashed in jangling discord52 on the keys.
The siren swelled53 loud in front of the house. Hunter heard the drum-beat of boots on the porch. He stumbled toward the kitchen—and fell into the arms of two police officers who had entered from the rear of the house.
He swung his fist; the fingers felt like clods of wet clay. One of the mercenaries caught his wrist and held it easily. In the gloom Hunter saw the Consolidated insignia on the man's jacket, and the guard whispered quickly, "This deal was a set-up, Hunter—packaged evidence, dropped at headquarters ten minutes ago."
Hunter stared. "Accusing me by name? Get this straight! Four hours ago they put me under with a blaster and—"
"It's a United frame," the guard said. "They want you out for good. The top brass54 of Consolidated is giving you the green right down the line. The fastest out Jake and I could figure—" He jerked his head toward his companion. "—was to give the United boys on our team the front of the house, and let you make a break for it from the back. We'll fake enough here to protect ourselves."
They pushed a blaster into Hunter's hands. He stumbled through the kitchen as the front door gave and two United mercenaries burst into the house. Hunter ran awkwardly, without full control of his legs.
He saw, looming55 black against the night shadows, the oval silhouette56 of the autojet on the Ames flat, still held under his twenty-four hour charter. It offered a tempting57 means of escape, but a public car was too easily traced and brought down by police tracers. However, it could perform a miracle as a diversion.
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1
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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immature
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| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
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11
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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14
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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filament
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| n.细丝；长丝；灯丝 | |
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platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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incision
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| n．切口，切开 | |
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24
grids
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| n.格子( grid的名词复数 )；地图上的坐标方格；（输电线路、天然气管道等的）系统网络；（汽车比赛）赛车起跑线 | |
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cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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forestall
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| vt.抢在…之前采取行动；预先阻止 | |
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consolidated
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| a.联合的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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32
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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35
bleakly
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| 无望地，阴郁地，苍凉地 | |
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lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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neural
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| adj.神经的，神经系统的 | |
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39
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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40
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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41
deploring
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的现在分词 ) | |
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42
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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sop
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| n.湿透的东西，懦夫；v.浸，泡，浸湿 | |
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44
maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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45
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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46
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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47
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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48
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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49
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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50
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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51
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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52
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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53
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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54
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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55
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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56
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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57
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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