Golem 100

16

They were out at sea aboard the nuclear trawler, Drogh III, far beyond the sight of land and the stench of the Corridor. The derrick boom was swung to starboard, and the winch was slowly releasing the heavy multi-cable as the bathysphere containing Gretchen Nunn descended. Inside, she was entwined and embroidered with electrode contacts.

Doctors Blaise (Shim) Shima and Friedrich Humboldt (Lucy) Leuz were in the control cabin which resembled the flight deck of a spacecraft; four walls of illuminated readout panels, dials, and projection screens.

Lucy Leuz was power gone to fat. Not tall, enormously bulky, with arms and legs as big around as a girl’s waist. A bathtub could barely contain him plus five gallons of water. Oddly enough, his voice was completely out of character with the menace of his bulk; soft and sweet, the vowels curiously inflected with umlauts. “True” was “Trew.” “Moon” was “Mewn.”

“She deep enough, Lucy?” Shima asked.

Leuz was concentrating on the depth dial. “Almost. Patience, Shim baby. Patience. Got your sensory program set?”

“Uh-huh. All five ready and counting.”

“Five? Five senses? I thought you said that Subadar Ind’dni told you—”

“To hell with what he said. I’m testing everything; sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. They learned us to take nothing for granted at Tech. Remember?”

“Painfully. Are her electrode contacts secure, but I mean really?”

“She’ll never shake ‘em off.”

“And she knows the scam? She won’t panic when you jolt her?”

“She’s been briefed. She knows. Don’t worry… Gretchen’s got a cool that could start another ice age.”

“R.” Leuz pressed a stud. “We stop the descent here. Two hundred fathoms.”

“Thank heaven it’s a calm sea.”

“Down two hundred fathoms your girl wouldn’t know if a typhoon was blowing upstairs.”

“The fun you DODO dudes have.”

“You want to signal her that you’re starting, Shim?”

“No, that’s not in the program. She’s on her own, down in the deep blue yonder.”

“It’s the deep black yonder, where she is. The girl is about as insulated as she’ll ever be.”

Shima nodded, threw a switch, and Gretchen’s total State of the Body flashed onto a projection screen.

“Whatever in the cockeyed world is that, Shim?”

“Metabolic readout, Lucy. Pulse. Temperature. Respiration. Tension. Tone. Etcetera. Etcetera.”

“In decimal? Decimal! Talk about old-fashioned!”

“Yeah. It’s an antique program I pulled out of the software library at CCC. It was the easiest and quickest to convert to these tests. Any self-respecting computer will translate the decimal into modern binary, if I need it.”

“Was the old original a sensory test program? Like how and why customers smell CCC perfumes?”

“Hell, no! It was probabilities for n-tuplets worked out for Sales. But you write a classy program, Lucy, and its algorithms can be adapted to anything. You know that. Snips and snails and puppydog tails, and such are computers made of.”

“The fun you science mavins have.”

“Oh, a science, am I? And what are you, pray, Doctor Friedrich Humboldt Leuz?”

“I, sir, whatever your name is, am an Untersee Forschungsreisende… And what’s more, I can spell it.”

“And a hearty Sieg Heil to you. I’m going to hit her with sound now. Got to find out if her hearing is secondhand, too. Ind’dni said that might be important. He didn’t say why…”

Shima examined the readout of Gretchen’s sound-responses with perplexity. At last Leuz inquired, “Got a problem?”

“It’s the damnedest thing,” Shima said slowly. “She can hear all right, but she has a very low quantity threshold. In other words, she can hear, say, distant thunder, but not thunder cracking overhead. She can hear a canary whisper, but not a bull sea-lion roar. That’s a complete switch on your run-of-the-mill deafness.”

“Fascinating. You know, Shim, Miz Nunn might be a new evolutionary quantum jump.”

“Oh?”

“The crux of survival for a species is adaptability. What knocked off the extincts? Inability to roll with the punches of change.”

“No argument.”

“Our environment has been changing drastically,” Leuz continued. “One of them is the battering of our senses by sights and sounds beyond endurance, which is why we have so many crazies in Bedlam-Rx. Thousands and thousands who’ve rejected an impossible reality.” Leuz meditated. “Maybe they’re the sanes and we’re the crazies to put up with it.”

“And Gretchen? Is she rejecting?”

“No, she’s adapting. Mother Nature is always pushing species toward the primal pinnacle, and that includes Man. Regrettably, you and I are far below that pinnacle.”

“Careful with your slander, Lucy. I’m taping everything that goes on here.”

“Mother Nature, with her glorious improvisation, is trying to generate an advanced species of Man through a freaky adaptation to our changing environment. Another push toward the primal pinnacle… and that’s your girl, Gretchen Nunn. She’s rolling with the punches of degenerating sights and sounds.”

“Hmmm… The primal pinnacle… You may be right, Lucy. Certainly you’re right about my being nowhere near it. But Gretchen? I don’t know. I do know that, near or far, she’s unique.”

“All of that. The only question is whether it’s a genuine mutation and inheritable. Are you doing anything to investigate that?”

“The pill is her option,” Shima smiled. “R. No more rapping; we mustn’t keep the lady waiting. I’ll check taste and smell now.”

“Man! What a peak! Ind’dni was right. The little lady sure can smell and taste.”

“What’d you hit her with, Shim?”

“H₂S. Hydrogen sulphide.”

“What? Rotten eggs?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That, sir, is cruel and unusual punishment, expressly forbidden by the Constitution of the United States.”

“She was programmed to expect the worst.”

“So now what fiendery?” Leuz chuckled.

“Now the poor kid gets bombed with a dirty, rotten universal hang-up.”

“Money?”

Shima laughed. “You know, Lucy, you Forschungsreisendes can be real profound at times. No, not money, acarophobia.”

“What?”

“Formication.”

“What?”

“The Cocaine Bug.” Shima looked at Leuz’ blank face. “You still don’t understand?”

“No, and I don’t think I want to.”

“Maybe it’s just as well. You’d shoot me, and no jury would convict. Here we go, Gretch. Sorry, but I’ve got to test your sense of touch.”

“Look at her bod shrieking! I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry. It’s all over now. At least I know you can really feel.” Shima turned a pale face to Leuz. “And I’m feeling it too, by empathy.”

“What was she feeling? What’s this Cocaine Bug bit?”

“Insects crawling all over the skin. Psychiatric cant for C and skag symptoms.”

“Ugh! Likewise eeyuch! You were right. No jury would convict.”

“I told you it was universal, Lucy. Look at your arms; you’re all gooseflesh.”

Leuz rubbed his arms vigorously. “Sometimes I have my doubts about entomologists… Or do I mean etymologists?”

“Try it auf Deutsch.”

“Wortableitung? No. I must mean Insektenkundefachmanns.”

“Try entomologie professeur.”

“Thanks a huge bunch. So now what?”

“Now sight.”

“But you already know it’s secondhand.”

“Sure, but only for the normal visual spectrum. Quaery: can she see beyond? In the ultraviolet or infrared? Here we go.”

Shima let out a low whistle, then muttered, “Closer and closer to your primal pinnacle, doctor. This girl is a giant quantum jump ahead.”

“What? How?” Leuz was confused.

“Gretchen’s blind, isn’t she?”

“You said in the visual spectrum.”

“Well she’s halfway between seeing and sensing in the ultraviolet.”

“Seeing? In the UV? Impossible!”

“Lucy, she’s reacting, she’s sensing UV radiation. There’s no single word for her response. Gretchen probably thinks she’s just got flashes and lights in her eyes… phosphenes… but she’s actually—Oh, hell! Let’s invent a word. She’s… She’s… She’s seesensing high-energy particles that—”

“No. Reverse it, Shim. Senseeing works better.”

“R. She’s senseeing the particle barrage shooting up from the earth’s radioactive mantle below her… Through a sort of somatic cloud chamber.”

“My God! Fantastic! A seventh sense?”

“Exactly.”

“But how can you be sure it’s cloud-chamber sensight?”

“We had a piece of freak luck.”

“Such as?”

“She peaked off the scale like an eruption at one point. Just once, and it was one in a million.”

“Consisting of?”

“She was senseeing a neutrino encounter.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“But the neutrino’s a neutral particle with zero rest mass. It reacts with hardly anything,” Leuz objected.

“Gretchen ‘saw’ it and it had to be a neutrino. Nothing else from space could penetrate twelve hundred feet of water. It streaked down, through the Van Allen belts, through the atmosphere, through two hundred fathoms of water, through her, and her somatic cloud chamber ‘saw’ it. By now it’s through the earth to the other side and on its way to wherever.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“And you’re absolutely right, Lucy. Gretchen’s a fantastic mutation, a quantum jump toward the primal pinnacle. And if I believed in God, I’d pray that this genetic change is favorable and inheritable.”

“Amen.”

“And so say we all. Now let’s bring the New Primal Man up.”

* * *

Seated gracefully cross-legged in the padded cell, Subadar Ind’dni switched off Shima’s taped recording of the Drogh III tests and regarded Gretchen Nunn with an expression that was close to worship.

“You are truly remarkable phenomenon, madame. Even inspirational. Lusus naturae does not do you justice. Dr. Leuz was quite correct. You are a fantastic quantum jump beyond us.”

“The quote New Primal Man unquote?” Gretchen actually blushed.

The corners of Ind’dni’s mouth quirked under his jet beard; a blushing Negro is an adorable sight. “Even that is inadequate descriptive. Legend alleges that the gods, in human guise, sometimes visit their poor relations down here on earth. Which are you? Sarasvati, divine protectress of poetry? Uma, goddess of light? I prefer to believe you are most probably Gauri, the brilliant.”

Gretchen, even more embarrassed, laughed and waved a hand. “Thank you, Subadar. If I’m to be a god in human disguise, it would most probably be the Mundingoe bugbear, Mumbo Jumbo, who terrified the African women.”

“I hate to throw a cold douche on the holy sacrament,” Shima said sourly, “but I had an unholy experience with the Golem¹⁰⁰ last night. Remember? I’d like to get on with our business.”

“I have not forgotten, doctor,” Ind’dni answered. “Perhaps, even, I remember more poignantly than yourself. Do you not recall that after you departed from Precinct Complex, I was left with the pathetic victim? That was no Ops party.”

“The party!” Gretchen exclaimed. “Regina’s Ops party for the men. The whole bee colony was there. That’s what brought the Golem back again.”

Ind’dni nodded. “Cause and effect. It has been demonstrated. But now I am concerned about the effect on yourself of a second venture into the Phasmaworld… this time alone, without comfort of Dr. Shima as fellow traveler.”

“Why the heavy concern?” Shima demanded. “She came through the first unscathed, at least in her head. So far as the physical pranks of her bod go… Well, here we are, locked in a padded cell.”

“Agreed, doctor. Bedlam-Rx was most cooperative, and this cell is reasonably safe. At worst, Miz Nunn can only attack quilted walls. At best, she will accost you, as she did that ‘before and after’ poster.” Ind’dni smiled. “I promise to close my eyes.”

This time Gretchen actually giggled. “We’re all in this together, Subadar. We should have no secrets.”

“Many thanks for confidence in my discretion, madame, but is it not possible that I may have secrets of my own wishful to conceal? However. Here is point of my concern; prime thrusts of the Id are pleasure and survival. What if your visit prompts this savage Subworld to use you for its brute satisfaction?”

“But of course I expect that, Subadar,” Gretchen said, “and I’m prepared to protect myself.”

“Prepared to protect yourself against the unknown? How, madame?”

“My lord! Haven’t I lived and worked in the real world of the Guff for close to thirty years? And what d’you think the Guff has done except try to use me for its pleasure and survival? The only difference is that I make the Guff pay. I’m armored by experience to withstand any and all psychic pressures.”

Ind’dni looked from Gretchen to Shima. “And you, doctor? Are you, too, armored, no matter what Miz Nunn experiences in the infernal Subworld and no matter how her somatic self behaves in this cell?”

Gretchen answered before Shima could open his mouth. “No he’s not. So if le pauvre petit withdraws into sulks, you’ll have to understand. I’ll soothe the baby when I come out.”

“I do not sulk,” Shima growled. “I am not a baby.”

Ind’dni sighed. “But perhaps I am, doctor. Sad to confess I also am not armored against possible outcome of this extraordinary venture of Miz Nunn, but… so be it. Let us launch her on her lonely trip into the unknown. The Promethium injection…?”

* * *

“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!” Gretchen screamed. “For God’s sake, what are you doing?” She lurched out of the quilted corner where she had recovered consciousness, stumbled across the padded cell-floor, and tried to separate the two men. Shima had his hands around Ind’dni’s throat and was trying to throttle him and batter his head against the wall. The Subadar was gripping Shima’s wrists. Gretchen flung her arms around Shima’s neck and let her dead weight tear him away from Ind’dni.

“You bitch!” Shima was panting like a tiger on the attack. “You black bitch’s bastard! And this skog’s your yancyman!”

“For God’s sake, Blaise!”

“God damn you. Damn the day I ever met you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ind’dni massaged his throat. “Evidently Dr. Shima is less than unarmored, madame; he is vulnerable. All of his educated responses betrayed him, and he attacked when he should have withdrawn.”

“From what? What happened?”

“Describing event delicately, Miz Nunn, it became apparent that it would be Dr. Shima who would be required to close his eyes.”

“What?”

“Your unconscious body accosted the wrong man.”

“You mean I—? You—?”

“Yes, you, him,” Shima shouted. “And for how long?”

“Blaise! Never!”

“Yeah. Sure. In physical fact, never… Maybe… But how long have you been wanting, eh?”

“No, Blaise. Never.”

“Have you patience for friendly counseling, doctor?” Ind’dni said gently.

“You God-damned yancy skog, smiling and sneaking—”

“Shima!” the Subadar’s voice was not raised, but it had the piercing thrust of cold iron. “Do not ever use that word ‘skog’ to me again.”

Shima was frightened into silence.

“Your rage bases itself on your assumed knowledge of Miz Nunn’s manner of acting, yes?” Ind’dni’s tone was gentle again. “She feels first and then proves it. I have sometimes heard you tease madame for thinking with her gut. Yes?”

“Yes,” Shima muttered.

“Then how could you take this naughty prank of her unconscious body seriously, when internally she has known all along that I am homosexual?”

“Wh-what?”

“But of course,” Ind’dni smiled. “I neither conceal nor parade it, yet Madame has felt the truth since first we met. At best, she merely accosted another wrong poster. At worst, her body was guilty of another childish practical joke, since it knew that her challenge could not and would not be accepted.”

Shima was aghast. “Oh Jesus! Christ Jesus! What a damned idiot I’ve been. Suspecting. Watching how she looks at you. I’m a clown!” He burst into hysterical laughter, began to cry, then turned and buried his shamed face in a quilted wall.

Gretchen looked hard at Ind’dni. He lifted a brow and smiled at her. She shook her head emphatically. His smile never altered.

Shima turned abruptly. “I want to apologize.”

“Not necessary, doctor.”

“Damn it, I’ve got to apologize.”

“And you have already.”

“So cool it, baby,” Gretchen soothed. “You’ve reached the bottom of your barrel. There’s no lower to go. You can start climbing up, now.”

“Most mixed metaphor, but most apt nevertheless.” Ind’dni laughed. “The worst is over, and there is no cause for guilt or shame. We must not permit the insanity of the internal inferno to bleed into our civilized lives. We will leave this unpleasant scene and visit a more grateful atmosphere… my own apartment. You will find it healing and restorative. And we must hear madame’s account of her expedition into the Phasmaworld while it is still fresh in her memory.”

As they filed out of the padded cell, Gretchen silently mouthed to Ind’dni, “You. Are. A. Great. Good. Man.”