The Players of Null-A

VI NULL-ABSTRACTS

Children, immature adults and animals 'identify'. Whenever a person reacts to a new or changing situation as if it were an old and unchanging one, he or she is said to be identifying. Such an approach to life is Aristotelian.

Free. That was the tremendous fact. Free of Ashargin. Himself again. Odd how he knew that. It seemed to grow out of the very elements of his being. His own transport experience with his extra brain made the transition feel familiar. Almost, he was aware of the movement. Even the blackness seemed incomplete, as if his brain did not quite stop working.

Even as he came out of the darkness, he sensed the presence of a powerful electric dynamo and of an atomic pile. And simultaneously, with intense disappointment, he realized that they were not near enough for him to make use of them, or control them, in any way.

Quickly, then, he came to consciousness. As vision returned, he saw that he was neither in the Venusian apartments of Janasen, nor in any place to which Enro would have sent Ashargin.

He was lying on his back on a hard bed staring up at a high, concrete ceiling. His eyes and his mind absorbed the scene in one continuous glance that followed through. The room he was in was snail. A needle-studded grille came down from the ceiling. Beyond it, sitting on a bunk watching him, was a distinguished-looking young woman. Gosseyn's eyes would have paused, would have stared, but there was another metal grille on the other side of her cell. In it, sprawled on a bunk, seemingly asleep, was a very large man who was naked except for a pair of discolored sport shorts. Beyond the giant was concrete wall.

As he sat up, more intent now, Gosseyn saw that that was the scene. Three cells in a concrete room, three windows, one in each cell, at least fifteen feet above the floor, no doors. His summing up stopped short. No doors? Like a flash, he ran his gaze along the walls searching for cracks in the cement. There were none.

Quickly, he went over the bars that separated his cell from the woman's. Quickly, he memorized a portion of the floor of his own cell, then of hers, and then of the cell of the sleeping colossus. Finally, he tried to similarize himself back to one of his safety points on Venus.

Nothing happened. Gosseyn accepted the implications. Between distant points there was a time lag, and in this case the twenty-six hour period during which a memorized area remained similarizable had been used up. Venus must be immensely far away.

He was about to make a more detailed survey of his prison when once more he grew aware of the woman. This time his attention held. His first fleeting impression had been of someone whose appearance was very distinctive. Now, with measured glance, he saw that his picture was correct.

The woman was not tall, but she held herself with an air of unconscious superiority. Unconscious; that was the telling reality. What the conscious mind of an individual thought was important only insofar as it reflected or helped to anchor the set of the nervous system. The only comparison Gosseyn could think of was Patricia Hardie, who so surprisingly had turned out to be the sister of the mighty Enro. She also had that pride in her eyes, that automatic, innate conviction of superiority—different from the Null-A trained Venusians, whose dominant characteristic of complete adequateness seemed part of their body and their faces.

Like Patricia, the stranger was a grande dame. Her pride was of position and rank, of manners and—something else. Gosseyn stared at her with narrowed eyes. Her face showed that she acted and thought thalamically, but then, so did Enro and Secoh, and so had virtually every individual in history before the development of Null-A.

Emotional people could build up their talents along one or two channels, and achieve as greatly as any Null-A Venusian in a particular field. Null-A was the system of integrating the human nervous system. Its greatest values were social and personal.

The important thing about assessing this woman was that, as he studied her, the extra component of the neural vibrations that flowed from her seemed to take on greater proportions with each passing moment.

She was dark-haired, with a head that seemed a shade too large for her body, and she returned his gaze with a faint, puzzled, anxious yet supercilious smile.

'I can see,' she said uneasily, 'why the Follower has taken an interest in you.' She hesitated. 'Perhaps you and I could escape together.'

'Escape?' echoed Gosseyn, and looked at her with steady eyes. He was astonished that she spoke English, but the explanation of that could wait while he gained more vital information.

The woman sighed, then shrugged. The Follower is afraid of you. Therefore this cell cannot be quite as much of a prison to you as it is to me. Or am I wrong?'

Gosseyn didn't answer that, but he felt grim. Her analysis was wrong. He was as completely a prisoner as she was. Without an outside point to which he could similarize himself, without a power socket before his eyes to memorize, he had no resources.

He studied the woman with a faint frown. As a fellow prisoner, she was, theoretically, an ally. As a lady of quality, and, possibly, an inhabitant of this planet, she might be very valuable to him. The trouble was that she was very likely an agent of the Follower. And yet, he had a conviction that a fast decision was needed here.

The woman said, 'The Follower has Been in here three times wondering why you didn't wake up when you first arrived more than two days ago. Have you any idea?’

Gosseyn smiled. The idea that he would be giving out information struck him as naïve. He was not going to tell any one that he had been in the body of Ashargin, although surely the Follower, who had put him there ———

He stopped. He felt himself grow taut. He thought, almost blankly, But that would mean ———

He shook his head in wonder, and then stood in blank amazement. If the Follower had lost control of him, that would indicate the existence of still another being of enormous power. Not that that was out of the question. He must never forget his theory. Somewhere out here were the players of this mighty game, and even a queen, such as he had estimated himself to be, could be moved or forced, checked and endangered, or even taken and removed from the board.

He parted his lips to speak, but restrained himself. His slightest word would be noted and analyzed by one of the sharp and dangerous minds of the Galaxy. He pondered for a moment, and came back to his own first question.

Aloud, he said, 'Escape?'

The woman was sighing. 'It seems incredible,' she said. 'A man whose movements cannot be predicted. Up to a point, I have a clear picture of what you're going to do, then, because one of those actions is without logic, I get only blur.'

Gosseyn said, 'You can read the future—like the Follower?' He was intent. He walked to the bars, separating their two cells, and stared down at her in fascination. 'How is it done?' Who is this Follower who has the appearance of a shadow?'

The woman laughed. It was a slightly tolerant laugh, but it had a musical note in it that was pleasing to the ear. The laughter ended.

'You're in the Follower's Retreat, of course,' she said, and frowned. I don't understand you,' she complained. 'And your questions. Are you trying to mislead me? Who is the Follower? Why, everyone knows that the Follower is an ordinary Predictor who discovered how to put himself out of phase.'

There was an interruption. The giant in the third cell stirred on his cot, and sat up. He stared at Gosseyn.

'Get over to your bunk,' he said in a bass voice. 'And don't let me catch you talking to Leej again. Now, get!'

Gosseyn did not move, simply watched the other with curious eyes.

The stranger climbed to his feet, and came over to the bars of his cell. On the cot he had looked like a giant. Now, for the first time, Gosseyn realized how big the man really was. He towered. He spread. He was seven and a half feet tall, and as broad as a gorilla. Gosseyn estimated his chest at eighty inches.

He was taken aback. He had never seen such an enormous man before. The giant exuded abnormal physical power. For the first time in his life, Gosseyn felt himself in the presence of an untrained individual whose sheer muscular strength visibly exceeded the possibilities of a normal Null-A.

'Better back down fast,' the monster said in a menacing voice. 'The Follower told me she's mine, and I don't intend to have any competition.'

Gosseyn glanced questioningly toward the woman, but she had lain down with her face to the wall. He faced the giant again.

'What planet is this?' he asked conversationally.

His tone must have been right, because the giant lost some of his belligerence.

'Planet?' he said. 'What do you mean?'

That was startling. Gosseyn, whose mind had leaped ahead, devising other questions, teetered and came back. Was it possible that he was in another isolated planetary system similar to that of Sol? The probability shook him.

The name of your sun?' he urged. 'Surely, you have a name for it. It must have been assigned a recognition symbol in the galactic nomenclature.'

The other's mood chilled visibly. His blue eyes misted with suspicion. 'What are you trying to pull off?' he asked roughly.

Gosseyn said grimly, 'Don't try to pretend that you don't know the planets of other suns are inhabited by human beings.'

The huge man looked disgusted. 'Got yourself a little addled in the brain, haven't you?' he said significantly. 'Look,' he went on, 'my name is Jurig. I live on Crest, and I'm a Yalertan citizen. I killed a man by hitting him too hard, and so here I am, subject to execution—but I don't want to talk to you any more. You bother me with that foolishness.'

Gosseyn hesitated. Jurig's protests were convincing, but he wasn't prepared to let the matter drop. There was one point that needed clearing up.

'If you're so innocent,' he said accusingly, 'how is it that you can speak the English language so perfectly?'

He realized the answer to that as he spoke the word 'English'. Jurig completed the thought with finality.

'What language?' he said. He began to laugh. 'You are crazy.' He seemed to realize the implications of what he was saying. He groaned. 'Is it possible the Follower has put me in here with a crazy man?'

He caught hold of himself. 'Man,' he said, 'whoever you are—the language we're speaking, you as well as I, is Yalertan. And I can tell you right now, you speak it like a native.'

For a few minutes, then, Gosseyn abandoned the conversation. He walked to his bunk and sat down. The flow of neural sensations that streamed from the giant were not friendly. There was cunning in them, and a kind of smug, murderous self-satisfaction.

The question was, why did the man dissemble? In point of muscular strength, the Yalertan was in a class by himself. If they ever came to grips, then Gilbert Gosseyn would have to use his extra brain to similarize himself to various parts of the prison. He must keep clear of those gorilla-like arms and fight like a boxer, not a wrestler.

But any use of his extra brain would reveal the nature of his special ability. Gosseyn climbed to his feet, and walked slowly over to the grille that divided his cell from that of Leej. He recognized that his position was bad. The cell had no power sockets. He was caught in it as completely as if he was the most ordinary of human beings.

The bars of the grille were thin, and about four inches apart. They looked as if a strong man might be able to bend them.

No strong man in his right mind would ever try. The metal was encrusted with needles. Thousands of them. He drew back, defeated, then bent down and examined the connection of the grille with the floor.

There was a crossbar that was free of needles, but the needles from the horizontal bars reached down over it, guarding it from probing fingers. Gosseyn straightened, and turned to his one remaining hope, the cot. If he could move it against the wall, end up, he'd be able to reach the window.

The cot was a metal affair, its legs cemented into the concrete floor. After several minutes of straining at it vainly, Gosseyn stood back. A doorless cell, he thought, and silence. His mind paused. The silence was not complete. There were sounds, movements, rustlings, a faint throb of voices. This prison must be part of a larger building—what was it the woman had called it—the Follower's Retreat. He was trying to visualize that when Jurig said from behind him:

'Funny clothes you got on.'

Gosseyn turned and stared at the man. Jurig's tone indicated that he had made no connection between the clothing and what Gosseyn had said about other planets.

He glanced down at his 'funny' suit. It was a light, plastic coverall with hidden zipper and, also hidden, a thermostat controlled heating and refrigeration network that was mazed evenly through the artificial textile material. It was very neat and expensive looking and very handy to have on, particularly for a man who might find himself in an unaccustomed climate. In cold or hot weather, the suit would maintain a uniform temperature next to his skin.

The shock of realizing that he had been using a foreign language so naturally, so easily, that he hadn't even been aware of it, had come at the moment that he tried to fit the word 'English' into the Yalertan tongue. It had sounded wrong. He'd gathered from Thorson and Crang that the galactic civilization had developed language machines by which soldiers, diplomats and space travelers could be taught the tongues of the peoples of far planets. But he hadn't pictured anything like this.

The card must have done it. Gosseyn sank down on his cot, and closed his eyes. He had really been trapped in Janasen's room. Imagine actually sitting on a Distorter. In one instant, he thought, I was transported from Venus. My body headed unerringly for this cell, and arrived at a predetermined instant. In midflight, another player in this vast game, similarized my brain into the brain case of Ashargin on a far planet. The moment that connection was broken, I woke up here, already educated in the local language. And, if the Follower really expected me to awaken the moment my body arrived, then I must have been taught the language during or immediately after the time that I looked at the card.

He glanced again at the woman, but her hack was still turned. He looked at Jurig appraisingly; here must be his immediate source of information.

The big man answered his questions without hesitation. The planet was made up of thousands of large islands. Only the skytrailer people, the Predictors, could move freely over the entire surface. The rest of the population was confined, each individual group to its own island. There was trade among them, and some migration, but always on a limited scale as between nations. There were numerous trade and immigration barriers but...

Gosseyn listened with the attention of a man who was swiftly grasping at a new idea. He was trying to imagine the Null-A Venusians against these Yalertans. He tried to think of a comprehensive word that would describe the Predictors, but nothing seemed to fit. Neither side yet realized that two utterly different systems for dealing with reality

existed in the galaxy. Neither side had as yet become aware of the other. Both were systems that had developed in isolation from the main stream of galactic civilization. Both were now about to be drawn into the maelstrom of a war being fought on so vast a scale that entire planetary systems might be wiped out.

He commented finally, 'You seem to dislike these Predictors. Why?'

The giant had wandered away from the bars of his cell, and was leaning against the wall under the window. 'Are you kidding?' he said. His eyes narrowed with annoyance, and he came back to the bars. 'You've pulled enough of that stuff for one day.'

'I'm not kidding. I really don't know.'

They're stuck-up,' said Jurig abruptly. They can tell the future, and they're ruthless.'

That last point sounds bad,' Gosseyn admitted.

'They're all bad!' Jurig exploded. He stopped and swallowed hard. ‘They enslave other people. They steal the ideas of the island folk. And because they can tell the future, they win every battle and repress every rebellion.'

'Listen!' Jurig leaned closer to the bars in front of him. His tone was earnest. 'I noticed you didn't like my saying that Leej belonged to me. Not that it matters what you like, you understand. But don't ever feel sorry for one of them. I've seen these women flay alive some lesser being'—his voice grew sarcastic, then angry—'and get a kick out of it. Now, this one has run up against the Follower for a private reason, and so, for the first time in centuries—I never heard of any other—one of us lesser folk has a chance at last to get back a little at these murderous scum. Am I going to take advantage of that? You bet I am.'

For the first time since she had turned her back, the young woman stirred. She swung around, sat up, and looked at Gosseyn.

'Jurig's neglected to mention one thing,' she said.

The giant let out a bellow. His lips drew back in a snarl.

'You tell him,' be raged, 'and I'll smash in your teeth the moment we get together.'

The woman flinched visibly, and there was no question of her fear. Her voice when she spoke, trembled, but there was defiance in it, too.

'He's supposed to kill you the moment the bars are removed,' she said.

Jurig's face was a study. 'All right for you, my fine lady. That finishes you.'

The woman was white. 'I think,' she said shakily, 'the Follower wants to see how well you can defend yourself.' She stared at him appealingly. 'What do you think? Can you do anything?'

It was a question that Gosseyn was urgently asking himself.

Gosseyn had an impulse to reassure the young woman, but he suppressed it. He had no intention of standing by while Jurig's blood-thirsty threats were carried out, but he must never forget that somewhere beyond these drab walls was an alert observer—and that his every movement, word and action would be carefully weighed and analyzed.

'Can you do anything?' she asked, 'or is the Follower worried about you without reason?'

'What I'd like to know,' countered Gosseyn, 'is what action do you foresee me taking?'

Her answer proved, if it was necessary to prove it, that this was no academic argument. Without warning, she burst into tears.

'Oh, please,' she sobbed, 'don't keep me in suspense. That man's threats are driving me insane.' She shook her head tearfully. 'I don't know what's the matter. When I look into your future, everything blurs. The only time that ever happens is with the Follower, and with him it's natural. He's simply out of phase.'

She broke off, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and said earnestly, 'I know you're in danger, too. But if you can do anything against the Follower, you'll have to be able to do it in the open.'

Gosseyn shook his head. He felt sorry for the woman, but her logic was wrong. 'In the history of the planet that I come from, surprise has been a major factor in determining what countries and groups shall dominate civilization.'

All the tears were gone now from her eyes, and her gaze was steady again. 'If the Follower can defeat you in the open, he can baffle any surprise system you may have.'

Gosseyn scarcely heard. 'Listen,' he said earnestly, 'I'm going to try to help you, but whether I can or not depends on how you answer my questions.'

'Yes?' She sounded breathless, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

'Have you any pictures at all of my future actions?’

'What I see you doing,' said Leej, 'doesn't make sense. It just doesn't make sense.'

'But what is it?' He felt exasperated. 'I've got to know.'

'If I told you,' she said, 'it would introduce a new factor and change the future.'

'But maybe it should be changed.'

'No.' She shook her head. 'After you do it everything blurs. That gives me hope.'

Gosseyn controlled himself with an effort. Anyway it was something. The implication was that his extra brain was going to be used. Apparently, whenever that happened this system of prediction failed to function.

Their faculty remained remarkable, and he'd have to try to find out how neurotics like this woman could automatically foretell the future. But that was for later.

'Look,' said Gosseyn, 'when does all this happen?'

'In about ten minutes,' said Leej.

Gosseyn was shocked into temporary silence. Finally, he said, 'Is there any kind of transport between Yalerta and the planets of other stars?'

‘Yes,' said Leej. 'Without warning, without previous knowledge on our part, the Follower informed all the skytrailer people that they must accept commissions on military spaceships of some being who calls himself Enro. And immediately he had a ship here with some method for transporting us.'

Gosseyn took the shock of that without change of expression, but he flinched inwardly. He had a sudden picture of seers on every warship foretelling the future actions of enemy warships. How could any normal human being fight such a super-human crew? He had known from what Janasen had said that the Follower was working with Enro, but that was one individual. Here were reinforcements by the—He asked the question in a piercing tone, 'How many .. . how many of you are there?'

'About five million,' said Leej.

He had guessed more than that, but the lesser figure brought him no sense of relief. Five million was enough to dominate the galaxy.

'Still,' said Gosseyn, hoping aloud, 'they won't all go.'

I refused,' said Leej in a flat tone. 'I'm not the only one, I understand, but I've talked against the Follower for five years,

and so I'm to be made an example of.' She sounded weary. 'Most of the others are going.'

Gosseyn estimated that four of the ten minutes were gone. He wiped his damp forehead, and pressed on.

'What about the accusations Jurig made against the Predictors?'

Leej shrugged listlessly. 'I suppose they're true. I remember a silly girl in my service talked back to me, and I had her whipped.' She looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent. 'What else can you do with people who don't know their place?'

Gosseyn had almost forgotten the man, but now he was forcibly reminded. There was a roar of outrage from the cell beyond the woman.

'You see,' yelled the giant. 'See what I mean?' He paced the floor. 'Just wait till these grilles go up, and I'll show you what you can do with people Who don't know their place.' He raised his voice in a frenzied shout. 'Follower, if you hear me, let's get some action. Pull up these grilles. Pull 'em up.'

If the Follower heard, he showed no sign. The grilles did not go up. Jurig subsided and retired to his cot. He sat there muttering the words, 'Just wait! Just wait!'

For Gosseyn, the waiting was past. Jurig, in his outburst, had given him the clue to the action he must take. He realized he was shaking, but he didn't care. He had his answer. He knew what he was going to do. The Follower himself would supply the opportunity at the moment of crisis.

No wonder Leej had disbelieved her advance picture of his future action. Apparently, it would be a meaningless move.

Crash! The interrupting sound came as he was settling back onto the cot. A metallic sound.

The grilles were lifting.