“You will be trained here,” Laura said, “and you will prove Vinthar wrong. We have left Paul and Elaine behind. Your return will free them and the four of us can then go on to the next problem planet.”
Chapter Five
Two Against the Universe
Borden means had firmly suggested Mexico City as the site of the conference. The leaders of the nations of the world had no intention of humoring this man who could be fitted into no known pattern. But trusted advisors whispered into the ears of the leaders. “For every radio we confiscate, another thousand seem to find a way to hear him.” “The people are restless.” “There is feeling among the combat divisions.”
And each day, in nine tongues, Borden Means named the nations who still held out. Each day there were fewer. At an emergency meeting of the Security Council of the United Nations a resolution for the heads of all member nations to attend the Means Conference was made and passed.
Three holdouts — and then only two. And then one. The one that all expected. And finally, incredibly, that last nation accepted.
For three days the state aircraft arrived at Mexico City and the big sedans, flying the appropriate flags and symbols, made a long siren-scream into the heart of the city, to the suites reserved at the Del Prado on Juarez, the Reforma. A thousand drab little men filled the city, nosing like ferrets for any sign of danger. Fighter planes of seven nations cooperated to make an impenetrable ring around the city, a protected circle with a radius of five hundred kilometers.
The meeting was scheduled for two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon in the enormous main ballroom of the Del Prado. At nine in the morning Julie O’Reilly and Jeffrey Rayden decided that they could do nothing further to the very short speech that Borden Means was to give to the heads of nations. It had to be short because it could not be entrusted to translators. It was going out of international radio, and he would give it in each one of nine languages. The semantic equator, product of the planet of their training, resembled a portable typewriter. Each version of the speech checked perfectly on the scale of emotional intensity and had the optimum reference-value rating.
He looked at Julie. Her thought came clear into his mind — so clear that in receiving it he made the inadvertent translation to the sound of her voice. “So now we give it to him, it, or whatever he ought to be called. Darling, I can’t get used to him.”
Projection was simpler than reception. The trick was to soften the projection down to the point where it was on a language level. To project without restrain was akin to screaming in a person’s ear.
“We’ll get used to him. In time.”
They went into the bedroom. The decoy lay on the bed. Jeff took it over. It sat up, glanced at them and smiled. The smile was reflex. When they were alone, they never spoke to it. To speak to it would have been as strained and self-conscious as speaking aloud to oneself. It took no effort to make it talk. But such were the blocks imposed in the artificial reaction pattern that it could not be made to say anything outside of its created character.
Julie handed it the speech. It read it. The memory was flawless. Jeff also received Julie’s order to it to give the speech in English. It stood up. The nobility of the face was such as to tear at your heart.
The voice thickened with emotion at the proper places. The few gestures were made in exactly the right places, with beautiful timing and effect. Jeff clocked the speech at three minutes, twenty seconds. It went through the other language versions flawlessly.
Julie’s thought came to Jeff. “Why do I cry when he gives the speech in English? I know we wrote it. I know... what he is.”
“He’s just effective, Julie. Damnably effective. And he’s going to have to be.”
Jeff sat off to the side of the small platform and watched Means walk on. He was like a mechanical toy. If he required direction for every move, the strain of control would be too much for the two of them. But once set in motion on an overall command, Means could handle the details without further direction.
The President of Mexico introduced him. Then that voice filled the room. That incredible voice, that was somehow mother and father and elder brother to every man. It said nothing that the minority among mankind had not been saying for generations. But somehow it was different. Peace became possible. Peace and abundance for all peoples.
Jeff forced the sound of the voice out of his mind and began flicking his perception across the minds of those world leaders in the room. In every mind he found acceptance. In every mind but one.
When Means had finished the last version of his speech, sixty-one heads of nations applauded. Some wept. The sixty-second did not weep, nor did he applaud.
Jeff felt Julie’s mind join his and together they searched that recalcitrant brain. The brush of Julie’s thought was like the touch of her hair against his throat.
“See it, Jeff? Malformed. Insane. We can’t reach him, ever.”
“Erase, then.”
“Do we dare?”
“Why not. What will they call it? Help me. Now!”
The applause still went on. They twined their forces and thrust. They saw the blocky, stolid face go grey. Five years of life gone on that thrust. He would not know where he was, or why he was there. Again! Five years more. Back to a softness against which it was easier to push. Another ten years Another twenty!
Applause faltered and died as the chunky man fell from his chair. Hands reached to help him He grinned at them and he sat on the floor on his old haunches and he made cooing sounds and sucked on his fingers while the spittle swung in a long strand from his chin.
It was three in the morning. Most of the delegates had insisted on a private conference with Borden Means. Even though Jeff and Julie had taken turns guiding Means, they were exhausted.
Now the last conference was over. They had taken no care with Means. He lay tumbled across the bed like a doll flung there by a careless child.
“We’re going to win,” he projected.
“Say it aloud, darling,” she said, “I want to hear it.”
“We’re going to win. They’ll vote tomorrow.”
“And after tomorrow, Jeff?”
“The real work begins. And thank God we can delegate it. An economic board to determine the steps toward an optimum world standard of living. Immediate relief for backward areas. We’ve known how for a long time. All the skills have been available. But unused. The Means Program will give authority to go with the know-how. Once our own back yard is cleaned up, we can so channel all techniques and wealth that Division Three will be within our grasp. They said our index of ingenuity was phenomenally high. Wait until they measure the time span from Division Two to Division Three!”
“It frightens me, Jeff,” she said softly, “and I suppose part of that is because I know we’re on our own. We can’t scream for help.”
He probed very delicately into the transverse layers of conscious though, felt her instinctive tightening of defenses, and then the relaxation that let him through, down into the warm instinctual depths. His hand was on her shoulder and she turned blindly away from him, but still probed and found the thought image that duplicated what he felt in his own mind.
“No, Jeff!” she said hoarsely, “Not that way. Say it.”
“I’ll say it, Julie. We’re both thinking and wondering the same thing. And in a sense it means that Vinthar was right. They gave us an incredible life span. They gave us the use of that portion of the brain which, in all other men of this planet, still sleeps. They gave us skills beyond the comprehension of this planet. But they did not give us one thing. They did not give us loyalty to the Covenant or to Reeth. Our loyalty is still with Earth. In their creed it may be the one unforgivable sin, this egocentric concern with race origin. But in my heart I cannot help but believe that Earth was meant to be the new focal point of galactic civilization. And we were meant to implement it.”