But there were still several other research possibilities already underway, things that had to do with human beings, with men, in their more esoteric and little-studied aspects. Things that nobody knew anything about anyhow and which he could, therefore, tackle on an equal footing with others, catch-as-catch-can, and no holds barred. Where does a man go after he's dead? And, conversely, where does he come from? He made a mental note of that latter-it suddenly occurred to him that most of the attention had been given to the first half of the paired question. What is telepathy and how do you make it tick? How is it that a man can live another life in his dreams? There were dozens more, all questions science had refused to tackle because they were too slippery-had in fact walked away from like a disgruntled cat. All of them related to some troublesome characteristic of the human personality-whatever that was-and any of them might lead to an answer as to purpose-meaning.
He felt toward these questions the free and easy attitude of the man who was asked if he could pilot a rocket: "I don't know-I've never tried." Well, he would try. And he would help Carruthers see to it that many others tried, strongly, consistently, following out every approach that could be thought of, and keeping meticulous, full, scientific records. They would track down the Ego, trap it, and put a band on its leg.
What was an ego? He didn't know, but he knew he was one. By which he did not mean his body, nor, by damn, his genes. He could localize it-on the centerline, forward of his ears, back of his eyes, and about four centimetres down from the top of the skull-no, more like six. That was where he himself lived-when he was home-he would bet on it, to the nearest centimetre. He knew closer than that, but he couldn't get in and measure it. Of course, he wasn't home all the time.
Hamilton could not figure out just why Carruthers wanted him, but then, he had not been present at an exchange between Mordan and Carruthers. "How is my Problem Child getting along?" Mordan had inquired.
"Quite well, Claude. Quite well indeed."
"What are you using him for?"
"Well ..." Carruthers pursed his lips. "I'm using him as a philosopher, only he does not know it."
Mordan chuckled. "Better not let him know. I. think he might be offended to be called a philosopher."
"I shan't. Really, he's quite useful to me. You know how impossible most specialists are, and how pedantic most of our brother synthesists."
"Tut, tut. Such heresy."
"Isn't it, though? But Felix is useful to me. He has an active, uninhibited mind. His mind prowls."
"I told you he was a star line."
"Yes, you did. Every now and then you genetics laddies come out with the right answer."
"May your bed spring a leak," Mordan answered. "We can't always be wrong. The Great Egg must love human beings, he made a lot of them."
"Same argument applies to oysters, only more so."
"That's different," said Mordan. "I'm the one who loves oysters. Have you had dinner?" Felix sat up with a start. The house phone at his elbow was chiming. He flipped the come-along tab and heard Phyllis's voice. "Felix, my dear, will you come in and say goodbye to Madame Espartero?" "Coming, dear."
He returned to the lounge, feeling vaguely unsettled. He had forgotten the presence of the ancient Planner. "Madame, will you graciously permit-" "Come here, lad!" she said sharply. "I want to see you in the light." He came forward and stood before her, feeling somewhat as he always had as a child when the development center therapists checked over his growth and physical development. Damnation, he thought, she looks at me as if I were a horse and she a buyer.
She stood up suddenly and grasped her stick. "You'll do," she stated, as if the knowledge somehow annoyed her. She extracted a fresh cigar from somewhere about her person, turned to Phyllis, and said, "Goodbye, child. And thank you." Whereupon she started for the door.
Felix had to hurry to catch up with her and let her out. Felix returned to Phyllis, and said savagely, "A man that'ud do that 'ud be challenged." "Why, Felix!"
"I detest," he stated, "these damned emphatic old women. I have never seen why politeness should be the obligation of the young and rudeness the privilege of age."
"Why, Felix, she's not like that at all. I think she's a dear."
"She doesn't act like it."
"Oh, she doesn't mean anything by that. I think she's just always in a hurry."
"Why should she be?"
"Wouldn't you be-at her age?"
He hadn't thought of it from that point of view. "Maybe you're right. Sands of time, and so forth. What did the two of you talk about?"
"Oh-lots of things. When I expected the baby and what we were going to name him and what plans we had for him and things."
"I'll bet she did most of the talking." "No, I did. Occasionally she put in a question."
"Do you know, Phyllis," he said soberly, "one of the things I like least about the whole business of you and me and him is the quivering interest that outsiders take in it. No more privacy than a guppy in an aquarium."
"I know what you mean, but I didn't feel that way with her. We talked women talk. It was nice."
"Hrummph!"
"Anyway, she didn't talk much about Theobald. I told her we intended to have a little sister for Theobald presently. She was very much interested. She wanted to know when, and what plans we had for her, and what we intended to name her. I hadn't thought about that. What do you think would be a nice name, Felix?"
"Egg knows-seems to me that's rushing matters a little. I hope you told her that it would be a long, long tune."
"I did, but she seemed a little disappointed. But I want to be myself for a while, after Theobald comes. How do you like the name 'Justina'?"
"Seems all right," he answered. "What about it?"
"She suggested it."
"She did? Whose baby does she think it's going to be?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"-and beat him when he sneezes"'
"Now, Felix, don't get yourself excited."
"But dammit, Claude, she's been in there a long time!"
"Not very long. First babies are often a little slow arriving."
"But-Claude, you biologist johnnies should have worked out something better than this. Women shouldn't have to go through with this."
"Such as?"
"How should I know? Ectogenesis, maybe."
"We could practice ectogenesis," Mordan answered imperturbably, "if we wished. It has been done. But it would be a mistake."
"Egg's sake-why?"
"Contra-survival in nature. The race would be dependent on complex mechanical assistance to reproduce. The time might come when it wasn't available. Survivor types are types that survive in difficult times as well as easy times. An ectogenetic race couldn't cope with really hard, primitive conditions. But ectogenesis isn't new-it's been in use for millions of years."
"No, I suppose it-Huh? How long did you say?"
"Millions of years. What is egg-laying but ectogenesis? It's not efficient; it risks the infant zygotes too hazardously. The great auk and the dodo might still be alive today, if they had not been ectogenetic. No, Felix, we mammals have a better method."
"That's all right for you to say," Felix replied glumly. "It's not your wife that's concerned."