Golem 100

7

After her final report (which most definitely was not the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth) to Chairman Mills Copeland, Ms. Nunn received his thanks and check and went directly to the scent laboratory, which she entered without announcement. Dr. Shima was doing demented things with flasks, pipettes, and reagent bottles.

Without turning, he ordered, “Out! Out! Out!”

“Good morning, Blaise.”

He spun around, revealing a mauled face. “Well, well, well,” he smiled. “The celebrated Gretchen Nunn, I presume? Voted ‘Person of the Year’ three times in succession?”

Her heart leaped; there wasn’t a hint of resentment in his tone. “No, sir. People in my class don’t have last names.”

“Strike the ‘sir’ bit, will you.”

“Thank you, s— Mr. Wish.”

He winced in agony. “Don’t remind me of that incredible insanity, Gretchen. I—How’d everything go with Homicide?”

“Oh, I snowed them.”

“And the chairman?”

“I snowed him, too. You’re off the hook.”

“I may be off the CCC hook but I’m not off my own. D’you know, I was seriously thinking of having myself committed this morning.”

“What stopped you?”

“Well, you, partly.”

“Only partly? I’m indignant. You gave me to believe that I had you in my thrall.”

“And I got involved in this patchouli synthesis and… and sort of forgot.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to worry. You’re saved.”

“You don’t say ‘cured.’”

“No, Blaise, not any more than I’m cured of my freak blindness. We’re a pair of freaks, but we’re saved because we’re aware. We can cope now.”

He nodded unhappily.

“So what’s your plan for today?” she asked cheerfully. “The battle royal with patchouli?”

“No. To tell the truth, I’ve just been going through the motions. I’m still in one hell of a mess, Gretchen. I think I’d better take the day off.”

“Perfect. Bring two dinners. No funny business; we’ve got to have a war council. We’re both in one hell of a mess.”

* * *

“You’ve told me everything?”

“Everything, Blaise.”

“Nothing left out by oversight or undersight?”

“Not even by second sight. I’m in the fact business, man.”

“So am I, ma’am, but I’m a chemo and you’re an intuitive, which means I’m cerebral and you’re visceral.”

“Are you claiming I think with my gut?”

“Certainly. You must know that you really do feel the answer to a problem first. Then your mighty brain produces a proof construct.”

“And how do you work?”

“Exactly opposite. After I find a fact, I try to translate it into feeling. That’s how I create perfumes.”

“Then tell me this, mighty creator, is a Lethal-One fact or feeling?”

“It could be pure rut for all I know. Listen, if the war council is starting, kindly get off me.”

“Yes, you think best vertical.”

“What gave you that idea? Psychodynamics?”

“I know how you make love.”

“Which leaves me in doubt. No more jokes, Gretch. I want to be profound.”

“Proceed cautiously.”

“We ought to hate each other.”

“Yes? Why?”

“Because we think exactly opposite. You’re psych-oriented and I’m chem-oriented. We’re opposite poles, but that makes us an ideal team; a sort of psychemo—What are you laughing at?”

“I just thought of some twentieth-century pejoratives we could call us.”

“Don’t shock me, I beg.”

“Blaise, I never.”

“Gretchen, you always.”

“Only professionally.”

“Oh? Who told me just this morning, no funny business? What a way to refer to love!”

“And who forgot to bring two dinners?”

Shima took a beat and then muttered, “My very good friend, Mr. Wish.”

Gretchen cut the comedy. “Right on, man. Thank God you can joke about that.”

“Gallows humor,” Shima said without humor.

There was another pause. At last Shima faced the firing squad. “You think this mess is connected with Mr. Wish?”

“Think? I know. It has to be.”

“Your gut speaking?”

“Yes.”

“So we can’t just slough off the skeleton mystery as another Guff maggot and let it go at that?”

“How can we? Take a hard look at what’s hanging over us. I’m prime suspect in a Lethal-One. What’s more, I’m guilty as hell.”

“Not of a Lethal-One. Lethal-Just.”

“What difference does that make? Both our careers are hanging.” Gretchen took a breath. “Even if I do justify the Lethal to Ind’dni, it’ll become public record and I’ll lose my reputation for guaranteed discretion, which is a big part of my sell. Ind’dni will be forced to bring in Mr. Wish publicly, and where’s your career?”

Shima thought that over. “You’re right. Either way it’s a bummer. But believe me, Gretch, if you have to involve Mr. Wish to save yourself, I’m game.”

She kissed his back. “What I love about you, Blaise, is that I like you. You’re a nice guy. Thanks for the offer, but the Wish truth won’t answer everything for Ind’dni. Don’t forget those damned skeletons.”

“I wish I could; but surely they’ll be the Subadar’s problem, not ours.”

“Wrong. They’re still our problem. Who did that to the goons? How? Why? Will it be done again? All that’s Ind’dni’s problem, yes, but answer this: Was the outrage really meant for me or for you?”

Shima stared at her. “You mean, could the goon butchery have been a goof?”

“Yes. It could have been intended for us. And if so, will it be tried again, so how can we cop out?” Gretchen grimaced. “We’ve got to defend ourselves, but don’t ask me against what.”

Shima frowned. “Then let’s fall back and regroup. Ind’dni mentioned other malignant outrages?”

“He did.”

“Not specifying?”

“He said, ‘Not of record’ because they were too outré to be believed.”

Shima shook his head. “They’d have to be damn fantastic to be considered outré in the Guff today.”

“He gave me the feeling that they were worse than what happened here.”

“And you don’t know what happened here?”

“Not a clue.”

“You did safe the door after I left?”

“I did.”

“Then how in God’s name did he get in? Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph! Incredible! You saw nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you couldn’t see through his eyes. That means he’s blind. Impossible!”

“He or she…” Gretchen hesitated. “But blind? I don’t know. I’m feeling for something else.”

“Feeling. You felt nothing while you were waiting for Homicide?”

“Nothing. I—Wait. There was a sensation of cold for a few moments, but I was half-naked, and anyway, we’re all used to drafts and chills most of the time. ‘Where You Beez Come God’s Big Freeze?’”

“Cold. Hmmm. Impossible entry and sudden cold. Did you hear anything?”

“Not a sound.”

“Any other sensations?”

“None. No, wait. A strange odor, I thought.”

“That’s my department. What kind of odor? Sweet, sharp, cloying, pleasant, unpleasant?”

“Strange and sickening.”

“Entry. Cold. Silent. Sickening smell. And then consumed the flesh and blood of the dead goons?”

“Every particle. The bones were clean.”

“And then left through the safed door, but leaving it safed. Impossible exit. Punkt. And where are we? I’ll tell you where this half of the psychemist is… Nowhere! So much for data-power. What were those pejoratives you had in mind?”

“You jump around so, Blaise.” Gretchen giggled in relief from the tension. “The Jig and the Jap.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why aren’t you laughing?”

“Am I supposed to? I don’t know what a Jig is. I’m a sort of Jap, yes? You’re a Jig?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s a Jig?”

“A Black.”

“Why is it funny?”

“Because it didn’t used to be.”

“How long ago?”

“Couple hundred years.”

“It hasn’t improved any with age. All right, Miz Jig, your turn.”

“This can’t be data’d, my dear Jap. It has to be felt’d.”

“I usually start with an empiric equation.”

“Very handy at times, but in this case where would we put the equals sign? No, we have to feel it.”

“I don’t know what to feel.”

“But you do feel something?”

“Christ! Yes!”

“Only you don’t know what it is.”

“I don’t.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s where I’m headed.”

Shima looked so bewildered that Gretchen explained. “Your gut responds to situations, yes?”

He nodded.

“What I’m saying is, the situation may be new, unexpected, a surprise, but your gut can accept it and respond along familiar paths because it feels that the unexpected can be knowable.”

“Jeez, Gretch, this high altitude is making my ears ring. I think I understand. You’re saying that we respond to events provided we sense that they’re within the parameters of life as we know it or can know it.”

“Yes, and that’s the crux.”

“Proceed cautiously.”

“Where are we when we don’t know and understand our responses?”

Shima examined her face as he would an unexpected precipitate which had surprised him in a flask. “Then. The. Event. Is. Un-know-able,” he said slowly. Suddenly he took fire. “By God, Gretchen, you’ve got it. Psymetrics forever! We aren’t dealing with anything animal, vegetable or mineral… anything known or capable of being known… We’re involved with something completely alien; outside of any possible parameter.”

“Yes. That’s where I was headed.”

“And arrived in triumph.”

“Thank you. Time out for a question?”

“Ask it.”

“Something alien from outer space?”

“Nonsense! There’s nothing viable in the galaxy that’s on visiting terms with our solar system. All our probes have demonstrated that. No, we’re dealing with a native, viable, homegrown entity which is entirely alien… A sort of Golem.”

“You mean Rabbi Loew’s monster?”

“No. That’s the classic Jewish version of the artificial creature used as a servant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I’m going back to the original legendary Golem. The original Golem, according to Talmud tradition, was Adam in the second hour of his creation, when he was alive, but a shapeless mass without a soul.”

“Shapeless and without a soul. Hmmm.” Gretchen considered, then nodded. “So we can’t know what this Golem is, what it wants, or why it wants.”

“We don’t even know how it wants and achieves. That would account for the impossible entrance and exit and everything in between. My God, we don’t even know whether it does want.”

“It must want something, Blaise. What about the cannibal bit and the other things Ind’dni hinted at?”

“You think our Golem may be responsible for them, too?”

“My within thinks so. Viscera speaking.”

“Then no argument.” Shima was tremendously excited. “This is fantastic, Gretch! Unique! We don’t know whether it has senses in our terms or appetites in our terms. Its senses may be functioning on Ångstrom wavelengths above or below the limits of our own spectrum.”

“I buy that, Blaise, but if it’s alive or quasi-alive, it must have appetites. That’s just another word for life.”

“D’you think it’s alive in our sense, Gretchen?”

“You tell me what life is, doctor, and I’ll answer your question.”

“I wish I knew. I wish somebody could define life. What a magnificent challenge this is! I—” Suddenly Shima deflated and let out a shuddering sigh. “But it’s made me forget the reality of our situation. To tell the truth, Gretch, deep down inside I’m scared, really scared. I feel like I’m in a nightmare and can’t wake up… That filthy Golem…”

“Easy man, I feel the same way. It’s an intellectual challenge, but an emotional nightmare.”

“Then how do we wake up? As you say, we don’t know where to put the equals sign in any equation because there’s no equation to balance. All unknowns.”

“Except the outrages,” Gretchen added.

“And the danger. That alien Golem ‘it’ may be anywhere doing Christ knows what, and—and this is what tears me—it might be coming through that safed door anytime… even now.”

Gretchen nodded quietly. “Yes. If it came once, it may return again… after you or me or both of us or Mr. Wish.”

“You mean that alien something may have been tailing Mr. Wish?”

“It’s possible. Anything’s possible. We don’t know. We’re Ground Zero in the nightmare.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Find the Golem, and zap.”

“D’you really think the danger is that close?”

Gretchen looked hard at Shima. “I do, Blaise. Every nerve in my bod is tingling; not only for us, but for others. Subadar Ind’dni kept harping on the danger. There’s something new and diabolical loose in the Guff.”

Shima shook his head. “It’s like a plague that’s got to be wiped out, but we don’t know what it is, why it is, where it is, what it wants.”

“The Black Death didn’t know or want anything; it just was.”

“Agreed, and that’s a hell of a good analogy, Gretch. Since we know nothing about this Golem we should handle it like an alien disease. That means locating a vector which will lead us back to the plague reservoir. Then we can zap.”

“Yes, that’s the hard-science way.”

“Let’s look at the possible vectors. It may be following me.”

“Or you as Mr. Wish.”

“It may be after you.”

“Or you and me together.”

“It may have some connection with the goons.”

“A possibility.” Gretchen thought for a moment. “Maybe the most likely.”

“It may be functioning at random.”

“In which case we’re helpless. No design or construct could lead to it.”

“Wrong, lady. Even randomness has a pattern where life is involved.”

“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

“Isn’t the thing we’re tackling a contradiction?”

“Damn it, you’re right, Blaise.”

“Strange problems require strange solutions. As you said, the most likely vector candidate is its possible past connection with the goons. That means we’ll need Subadar Ind’dni’s data on other outrages.”

“Which means going to him.” Gretchen scowled. “I don’t like it, Blaise. He’s shrewd, experienced, intuitive. He can be dangerous.”

“What you really mean is that you don’t want to run the risk of his connecting me with Mr. Wish. I thank you, lady, but I’ll have to take my chances. We join up with Ind’dni. Have we got a reason?”

“Easy. I’m volunteering cooperation because Guff-arrest is bad for my business. I want to help him crack the case as quickly as possible.”

“He’ll buy that.”

“Only if we’re completely honest with him, Blaise.”

“Including Mr. Wish?”

“No, we reserve that.”

“Then your weapon fable will have to stand.”

“Yes.”

“What else must we be honest about?”

“Everything he can check, and make no mistake, baby, he’ll check everything about us.”

“It’s risky.”

“Yes, but not for me; for Mr. Wish. Are you still game?”

“By God, I am, lady. Yes. Now how am I supposed to assist you? In psychodynamics?”

“Me? Ask you for help in my specialty? Unbelievable. No, as a chemist.”

“To do what?”

“Help me get an I.D. on the goons through a chemical analysis of the remains.”

Shima thought that over, then nodded. “Yes, it might work.”

“Ind’dni will be too courteous to tell you that you’re wasting your time. He has his own forensic experts on the precinct staff. But he won’t know that it’s a fake. Just another sincere civilian trying to get into the Sherlock Holmes act.”

Shima nodded again. “They do it all the time.”

“And while you’re staging your phony chemical analysis, I’ll be sifting for information by indirection… anything that’s likely to help us shape up an—”

“Empiric equation?”

“I was going to say ‘equals sign,’ but what’s the difference?”

“Lay down and I’ll show you.”