Golem 100

20

The Drogh III was berthed in the Sandy Hook marina of the Oceanography center. The bathysphere was cradled on the foredeck of the trawler and Ind’dni was inside, encoiled as Gretchen had been, with neural contacts. There was a significant addition, however; a sensor had been interfaced with his larynx to enable his speech to be heard… if he could shape any words from the Phasmaworld.

Shima injected Ind’dni with the Pm hydride, slapped his shoulder twice, and scrambled out of the bathysphere. He slammed the hatch, dogged it, and dashed to the control cabin where Gretchen was waiting. He gave her a short nod, switched on the instruments and scanned the panels. “All nominal,” he muttered.

The bathysphere was less than a hundred feet away from the cabin but a good country mile via the winched cable that connected them with the Subadar. Shima picked up the microphone communicating with the bathysphere and waited. Salem Burne would have said of him, “Pulse and respiration rapid. Muscle tone spasmodic.”

The same could not have been said of Ind’dni.

At last a calm voice came through the control cabin speaker. “Do you read me, doctor?”

“Loud and clear, Ind’dni.”

“Miz Nunn, are you still in attendance?”

“Yes, Subadar.”

“This is of intense interest. Unlike you two who went into black per your descriptions, I have gone into white. Apparently the Promethium drug does not affect all identical.”

“Are you sure the white isn’t a sense-echo?”

“Quite certain, doctor.”

“Then its effect is on the psyche rather than the soma, Subadar,” Gretchen said, “and all are different. Apparently you can maintain contact with the real-world while you’re in the Phasmaworld. Blaise and I couldn’t.”

“I would agree, Miz Nunn. All somas are similar, more or less; otherwise medicine would still be in the medieval; but no two psyches are identical. It will be interesting, if ever they succeed in cloning people, to find whether the personalities will be as identical as the bodies.”

(“This dude is really cool. Gretchen.”)

(“That’s why I wanted him sent under.”)

“Still nothing but white, doctor,” Ind’dni continued reporting, “but I am assured. There is a Hindu saying: ‘It is certain because it is impossible.’ I—Wait, please. Something is beginning to manifest…”

“Ah yes. Remarkable. I am sensing a particle perception in this Phasmaworld. I am also pleased to report that my guess was correct. The Hundred-Hander creature is most probably starting its search at the very top of the electromagnetic spectrum. Perhaps the Id is strongly attracted by high-energy sources…”

“I am perceiving the Ourworld… the tip of the iceberg, you called it, Miz Nunn… through the perceptions of the Idworld. It is bizarre, to say the least, and arresting. That line of Robert Burns: Oh wad some power the giftie gie us to see oursels as others see us! Apologies for most maladroit Scots pronunciation. You have given me the power, Dr. Shima and Miz Nunn, and I am intensely grateful.”

(“He’s so goddam sophisticated!”)

“Ah! Formless shapes are now being perceived in the Ourworld by the Idworld. I would guess that the Phasma sensing is descending down the spectrum to—What would it be, doctor?”

“It would still be particle bombardment, Ind’dni. Probably the gamma-ray region. Hard X-rays. Around ten to the minus eight centimeters.”

“But is it the Golem’s perceptions, Subadar?”

“Most likely, Miz Nunn. We are very much en rapport with it after earlier encounters, but I do not yet know certainly.”

“You are infallible as ever, doctor. The residents of our iceberg tip are now being perceived with gamma-ray vision…”

“I think it is possible that I may have picked up the Hundred-Hander at last. We are still in the X-ray area, and I am perceiving through Id senses what appears to be a womb, which is to say a new home for the shipwrecked creature…”

“Miz Nunn! Miz Nunn! Miz Nunn! It has a remarkably clear perception of yourself in the role…”

“So now it senses impending death.”

“Most remarkable. As the creature descends our visual spectrum into the—What might it be, doctor?”

“From the extreme violet down through indigo, blue, green, yellow, and orange to the extreme red.”

“Thank you.”

(“Christ, he’s cool! Doesn’t the son-of-a-bitch feel anything?”)

“Now the desperate thing is searching for the protection of a father.”

“Psychodynamically consistent, Subadar. Son and father are deadly enemies in the contest for the mother.”

“I feared as much. It is a vision of Garuda, a deadly Hindu god, and it is how the Golem envisions me as its father.”

“Suddenly there is a sensation of extreme heat. Most uncomfortable. Can you explain, please, Dr. Shima?”

“Easy. The Golem’s down under the extreme red and into the infrared. Heat’s a phenomenon there.”

“Then we are no longer within the visible?”

“No.”

“Interesting. What can it hope to find here? And now strange vibrations, Dr. Shima.”

“Radio-wave propagation of all sorts, anywhere from shortwave down to ten kilocycles. How does the Golem sense them, Ind’dni?”

“Merely as geometric designs. What an opportunity for a critic of entertainment, eh?”

“Great Deva in Devachan! It is frantic now, and has transposed to sound.”

Gretchen seized the microphone. “But when the Golem tried to attack me and spoke that backwards gibberish, you said the creature was ‘not of intelligence.’ Your words, Subadar.”

“True, madame, and the gibberish continues. It is perceiving word images and fragments alone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I will try to illuminate Golem’s extraordinary perceptions which I am sensing, Miz Nunn. Do you read music?”

“Through other eyes, yes.”

“And as you read it, does your inner ear hear it?”

“Yes.”

“Conceive, please, of someone who cannot read musical notation in act of looking at a score. Would such person hear anything?”

“No, nothing.”

“And what would they see?”

“Just lines and dots and circles and strange signs and symbols.”

“Thank you. And that is how Golem¹⁰⁰ is presently perceiving the sounds that we use for communication.”

“It cannot find a host, a home, a father, a mother, any refuge… “It has lost it’s fight for survival. We are going…”

“Nothing remains.”