Monotonously2 the radio tech droned: "Gila Control to Phoenix3 I come in please. Gila Control to Phoenix I come in please. Gila Control to Phoenix I come in please." After every third repetition of the chant, he switched to Receive and briefly4 listened to the buzz and crackle from the overhead speakers.
"Gila Control to Phoenix I...."
"Yes, sir," the tech said. "But he could still reply if he wanted to. Distress operates from a separate transmitter on a single fixed6 frequency. The ordinary transmitter isn't tied up."
"Is he receiving?"
"I think so. When we gave him the 'Message coming' impulse, he switched to receive. That was hours ago."
The tech looked up in surprise, then resumed his respectful attitude toward the brass9. "No, sir. His rig is a self-tuner. The signal automatically tunes10 the receiver to the right frequency. He's getting it, all right."
"In other words," Colin said, "your voice is being broadcast on the ship's speakers."
"As far as I can tell."
"Mm."
Colin leaned back against a chart table and pulled on his pipe for a few moments.
"Please go on, sergeant11," he said finally. "Keep trying. But change the patter to 'please reply,' would you?"
"What difference does that make?" Banning asked. "That's what 'come in' means, anyway. Same thing."
"Just an idea," Colin said. "Why don't you get some rest? You look beat."
"What kind of an idea?" Banning said, rubbing his forehead.
"Can you get a couple of cots brought to your office?"
"Yes, but what's your idea?"
"Come on along and I'll tell you about it," Colin said.
They left Central Control, with the voice of the sergeant sounding behind them, "Gila Control to Phoenix I please reply. Gila Control...."
Reaching Banning's office, Colin sent one of the ubiquitous armed guards after two cots.
"You can't shoot all your energy at once," he pointed12 out, when Banning protested he didn't need the sleep. "If we're going to get Harkins out of that ship, we're going to have to stay in pretty good shape ourselves."
"All right," Banning grumbled13. He made coffee on the hot plate from the bottom drawer of his desk, grinning at Colin like a small boy caught stealing cookies. "I like a little coffee once in a while," he explained unnecessarily.
When they had settled themselves with the coffee, Banning asked, "All right, now. Why'd you change 'come in please' to 'please reply'?"
"It's less ambiguous," Colin said. "'Come in please' could mean several things."
"So? Anybody with as much radio experience as Harkins knows what 'Come in please' means."
"You're going to have to get used to the idea you're not dealing14 with Harkins in this. Take the point of view, this is somebody you've never seen before. Somebody you have to figure out from scratch."
"Mm. I suppose so. Okay, why the change?"
"Well—" Colin hesitated. "First of all, this—blindness is purely15 a functional16 block of some kind. There's nothing organically wrong with his vision."
"I'm virtually certain, after seeing the film strip again. Your Colonel Harkins behaves exactly like a man being molested18 by something he can't see."
"For the sake of argument, then...." Banning nodded.
"All right. Presupposing he does not want to see human beings—for whatever reason—there are several mechanisms19 he could use."
"He didn't even have to come back," Banning pointed out.
"That's one of the mechanisms. But he did come back. Why? Problem one, for the future. Mechanism20 two: Catalepsy. Suspension of all sensation and consciousness."
"Obviously not the case."
"Right. Mechanism three," Colin went on, ticking the points off on his fingers, "partial disorientation. Loss of perception of a single class of objects, human beings."
"That's right. And I think this is our opening wedge. Of the possible means of avoidance I named, partial disorientation is the least successful of all. It involves too many contradictions. He was disturbed by the microphones, for example. Why? Because they are meaningful only in a context of human beings. Communication. He would have to do some fancy twisting to avoid the notion of human beings. The same goes for any other human artifact. Somehow, in order to make the world 'reasonable' in his own terms, he has to explain the existence of these things, without admitting the existence of people who made and use them."
"Impossible."
"Very nearly. It means that some facet22 of his personality must be continually making decisions about what can be recognized and what cannot. His censoring23 mechanism is in a constant scramble24 to prevent certain data from reaching his conscious mind. It has to justify25 and explain away all data which would eventually point to the existence of human beings."
"What the hell does he think he is?" Banning asked angrily.
"I have no idea. Maybe that's problem two for the future. At any rate, as you pointed out, this is an impossible job. It must be infinitely26 more difficult now that he's on Earth, where there are so many more things to explain away. This is going to set up a terrific strain inside. It may break him."
"What would do that to a man?"
"I don't know that, either," Colin admitted. "Our first problem now is to get him out of the ship. And to do that, we have to contact him."
"This is why you changed to 'please reply'? What good is it going to do if he can't hear it, anyway?"
"That's the point. I think he can hear it. He can't recognize it, but that isn't quite the same thing. His eardrums still vibrate, the data gets in, all right. But it doesn't reach the conscious level. Fortunately, it isn't always necessary to be consciously aware of a stimulus27 before you can respond to it. Frequently a persistent28 stimulation29 just below the threshold of awareness30 will produce a response in the organism. Sub-threshold stimulation, it's called."
"Yeah," Banning said, "I've heard of it. Used it in advertising31, didn't they?"
"Okay. Now what?"
"Now we wait and see if it works. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up if anything happens."
Colin stretched out on one of the cots, put his hands behind his head and soon was breathing deeply in an excellent imitation of sleep.
The clock on Banning's desk said 4:33 when his communicator chimed. Banning was off his cot and at the desk before the first soft echoes faded.
"Banning. Yes ... yes ... all right, right away."
"What is it?" Colin asked.
"They've got something from the Phoenix at Control."
When they reached the radio room again, a different technician was on shift. He was intently watching an oscilloscope face on the board in front of him.
"What happened, did he answer?" the general asked.
"No, sir. But a few minutes ago we started getting a carrier wave on his transmission frequency."
Banning sighed disgustedly. "Is that all? Dammit!"
"What does that mean?" Colin asked.
"Not a damned thing," Banning said angrily. "He just threw the transmission switch, is all."
"Look, sir." The radioman pointed to the oscilloscope. The smooth sine of the carrier was slightly modulated33 now, uneven34 dips and jogs appearing rhythmically35. "There's something coming through, but it's awfully36 damned faint, Sir."
"Run your sensitivity up," Banning ordered.
The radioman slowly twisted a knob, and the hiss-and-crackle coming through the speakers increased in volume until each snap was like a gunshot in the radio room. Colin winced37 at the noise.
"Maximum, sir."
"Increase your gain, then."
The technician did. The speakers were roaring now, filling the room. Very faintly behind the torrent38 of sound another sound could be heard, more regular. The rhythm corresponded with the jogging of the oscilloscope.
"That's it," Banning said. "But what the hell is it?"
"You recognize it?"
"I know it, sir," the radioman said. "It's an old folksong, The Quaker's Wooing."
"Why is it so faint?" asked Colin.
"He must be a hell of a ways off-mike," said the tech. "Clear at the other end of the control room, I'd say."
"Turn down that damned noise," said Banning. The radioman twisted his controls back to medium range, and the thunderous hissing40 roar of the speakers died away.
"Well," said Banning, "nothing. We shoulda stood in bed."
"I'm not so sure," Colin answered. "After all, he did start to transmit, and that's more than we've had since he landed. I think we'd better keep it up."
"All right. Keep at it, sergeant."
"Yes, sir."
As Colin and Banning turned away, the psychiatrist41 heard the sergeant begin to sing softly to himself. Suddenly Colin stopped and turned back to the man.
"What'd you say?" he demanded.
"Nothing, sir."
"What you were singing, that song."
"Oh, it was the one the colonel was whistling, sir. It gets to running around in your head. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."
"No, I want to know what the words are. What you just said."
"Well, it goes, I mean it starts out, I can't remember the whole—"
"Come on, man! Sing it!"
In an uncertain voice the radioman began to sing:
"I had a true wife but I left her, oh, oh, oh, oh.
And now I'm broken hearted, oh, oh, oh, oh.
Well, if she's gone, I wouldn't mind her,
Foldy roldy hey ding di do,
Soon find one—"
"That's enough, sergeant," Colin said, relaxing. He turned to Banning. "Well, General, that's it. The wedge goes in a little deeper."
"What do you mean?"
"Is Harkins married?"
"Yes, yes, I think so. She lives in the officer's quarters on base."
"Get her," Colin said.
"Now? My God man, it isn't even five—"
"Get her," Colin repeated. "Harkins has her on his mind. Maybe we can get to him through her."
Martha Harkins was a small brunette, too plain ever to be called pretty. Almost mousy, Colin thought. But intelligent, and quick to understand the situation, in spite of her nervousness. She sat on the opposite side of Banning's desk, her hands folded quietly in her lap, fingers twined, while Colin explained what they wanted her to do. Her still-sleepy eyes were fixed on her fingers while the psychiatrist talked.
"I—I think I see," she said hesitantly. "What it comes down to is that you want me to try to talk Dick out of Phoenix I."
Colin nodded. "It may not be easy. I've told you as much as we know about the condition of his mind. He will not consciously hear you, in all likelihood. We hope to appeal to deep-seated emotions below the conscious level. Are you willing to try?"
"Of course," she said with real surprise, looking up at him for the first time.
"Good," Colin said warmly. He stood from behind the desk. "We'll take you over to radio, now."
Banning was waiting for them in Central Control.
"Any change?" Colin asked.
"No. Same thing. Sometimes he comes closer to the mike. We can hear his footsteps. He seems to be wandering around the control room pretty aimlessly. Or maybe he's just carrying on the in-flight routine, we can't tell."
"This is Mrs. Harkins," Colin said. "General Banning."
"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Harkins," the general said. "I hope this isn't too difficult for you." He took her small hand in his own.
Martha Harkins smiled faintly. "A service wife gets used to just about everything, general."
"Unfortunately true. If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to your technician. Has Dr. Meany explained what we want you to do?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Good."
"Just one thing, Mrs. Harkins," Colin put in. "This may take some time. It may be we'll want you to cut a tape with a request to leave the ship, if we can't get any response from live voice. Repetition is the important thing, and the sound of your voice."
"All right. I'll do whatever you say." She turned away briefly, but not before Colin saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
Banning led her over to the radio console, saw her seated and instructed in the use of the equipment, and returned to Colin.
"What do you think?" he said.
"She'll do."
"Will it work?"
"How the hell do I know?" the psychiatrist answered roughly.
They were silent for a moment, watching the small figure of the woman leaning forward tensely over the microphone, as if by her nearness she might make her husband hear.
"You know," Banning said musingly42, "I get the feeling this is all the fault of SpaServ, somehow. Some little thing we overlooked. A little more training, maybe."
The woman's soft voice droned on, not quite carrying distinctly to the two men, though the warmth and urgency of it was evident in her tone.
"I think you did all right with your training," Colin said finally. "He came back, didn't he?"
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1
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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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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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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8
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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functional
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| adj.为实用而设计的，具备功能的，起作用的 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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mechanisms
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| n.机械( mechanism的名词复数 )；机械装置；[生物学] 机制；机械作用 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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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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facet
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| n.(问题等的)一个方面；(多面体的)面 | |
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censoring
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| 删剪（书籍、电影等中被认为犯忌、违反道德或政治上危险的内容）( censor的现在分词 ) | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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stimulation
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| n.刺激，激励，鼓舞 | |
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awareness
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| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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modulated
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| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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psychiatrist
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| n.精神病专家；精神病医师 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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