The school

VI.

He gave the white-faced Spindem an hour to call Colonel Dodge. Then he placed his own call. At Dodge’s first word he knew he had guessed correctly. Spindem had said his piece and Dodge was most sympathetic and solicitous.

“My dear major,” the colonel said. “I was just about to call you. I want to offer my congratulations and my sincere thanks for the job you have done for us. It’s as much as any man could be expected to perform in line of duty and I’m —”

“So Spindem called and told you I was nuts, huh?”

“What’s that, major? Oh, yes I did hear from Dr. Spindem this evening. He said —”

“Colonel Dodge, I want you to come out and see this thing for yourself. If I’m crazy — all right, I’m willing to gamble my sanity for what I’ve seen out here. This isn’t a fake, colonel, or a scheme of sabotage, or anything of the sort. If you think it is, after making a personal inspection, I’ll let Spindem fry my brains in an electric toaster for as long as he wants to. But I ask you to come and make your own decision before taking any further action against the Institute.”

“That is reasonable,” said Dodge carefully, as if he felt he were talking with a child or idiot. “As a matter of fact, I intended to do that anyway. But don’t you think you ought to let Dr. Spindem —”

“After your decision, colonel!”

There was a pause and Montgomery heard the colonel’s sigh of irritation.

“I’ll make it as quickly as I can, but it may be three days at least, before I arrive. Keep in touch with the doctor. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

It probably would look bad, Montgomery thought, if he had to be committed to an institution, and word got out that it had resulted from an assignment the colonel had made. Dodge had reason to worry, he supposed. At least, he thought he did.

Montgomery ate quickly in the coffee shop of the hotel. It was still early enough to get in another three or four hours at the Institute. The place seemed to be open most hours of the day or night.

He met Wolfe as he passed along the loggia.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you any more work for at least a couple of days,” said the counselor. “I just looked over the Mirror tapes you turned out today —”

“That’s all right,” said Montgomery. “I wasn’t headed for the Mirror. Now that I’ve gotten rid of a big chunk of my education I want to do some learning! It will be O.K. for me to work with the shadow boxes, won’t it?”

Wolfe nodded dubiously. “Don’t keep at it too long. You can say you’ve really had it!”

Montgomery found an empty learning room and sat down before the cube of the small shadow box there. Gingerly, he put on the headpiece. It was the first time he’d tried it — and even now he was glad he was alone.

The soft glow came on in the interior of the cube. Montgomery hesitated and drew a deep breath. Then he projected an image of the Ninety-one.

He almost cried at the result. A fuselage that looked somewhat like a contorted carrot sprang into being — minus wings and engines. He tried to straighten out the shape and the tail disappeared. He let it go and attempted a wing. The whole fuselage vanished and one wing, with a single engine flaming, turned slowly end over end in the cube.

Montgomery leaned back in sick discouragement, and removed the headpiece. He had thought it would be so easy once his pattern of action ceased to inhibit his creativeness. The lesson of his pre-natal threat of miscarriage was gone. The lessons of Mr. Carling, who had taught him to hate beautiful geometric forms, were gone.

Professor Adams, who permitted standard engineering practices only — and those no more recent than 1908 —

They were all gone, and he was like a child, crawling on the floor, stacking his first blocks. He had to learn skills with the unused faculties and in that there was agony.

He tried again, building a wobbly plane with melting wings and twisted fuselage. But no panic swept him as he persisted. He was free to learn and create for the first time in his life. He forgot time, and the sun was tinting the beach when he finally looked up from the cube with a small degree of satisfaction with what he had produced. The plane was recognizably a miniature of the XB-91, and it didn’t melt and wobble as he tried to maintain its image.

But he had been wrong in his statement to Spindem. Today was not the day he would create a revolutionary new airfoil. He could put it on paper, of course, but that would be a last resort. He wanted to provide a solid model that could be checked in a wind tunnel.

He went to the hotel and caught a few hours sleep. Then he came back to the Institute and resumed work to improve the accuracy of his visualization. For another forty-eight hours he sweat over the project, breaking up the long sessions with the shadow box for only brief intervals of eating and sleeping.

But at the end of that time he was satisfied with his achievement. He had a foot-long model of the Ninety-one with a wing such as no one had ever seen before. He solidified it in plastic.

He called in Gunderson, who was looking much better, as if some of his own problems had been solved. Montgomery didn’t ask what kind of experiences he’d been having with the Mirror, however. His time was almost gone.

“I’ve got to have some wind-tunnel tests by tomorrow afternoon," he said. “Firestone’s little variable-pressure tunnel is the only one that will do. I’m completely bushed. Will you fly up there and run the tests and get them back by tomorrow?"

Gunderson picked up the model, keeping his face straight. He ran a finger over the contour of the wing. “Is this the thing you talked to me about when we built the Ninety-one’s wing?”

Montgomery nodded. “I know it looks nuts, but I haven’t got time to argue it now. If I’m wrong about it, the Nagle-Berkeley Institute closes as of tomorrow night, and ten years of litigation will probably not get it open again.”

“What are you talking about? Who’s going to close up the Institute?"

Quickly, Montgomery told the engineer why he’d come there in the first place. He told of the country-wide suspicions of the motives behind the Institute, of the approaching visit of Colonel Dodge.

“Dodge will obtain an injunction to close them up. He’ll string out an investigation forever. Nagle and Berkeley will struggle for the rest of their lives to get into operation again, but they won’t have a chance. Opinion will be wholly against them in all quarters of conventional authority.

“On the other hand, if we can swing Dodge to our side when he comes —”

Gunderson shook his head slowly as he looked at the model plane once more. “You think this will do it?”

“Look.” Montgomery turned back to the shadow box. He turned it on and created another image of the Ninety-one. Then he provided a visible air stream. “I’ll vary it now to simulate flight between eighty and a hundred thousand feet.”

Gunderson watched as the luminous streamlines thinned. The model rose at a scale speed that was fantastic. “But you're doing that!” he exclaimed.

Montgomery nodded and turned it off. “That’s why I have to have the wind-tunnel report to convince Dodge. But the model will behave exactly that way in the tunnel. The lift of the wing is about ten per cent less than conventional shapes at sea level. At the flight altitude for which it is designed, however, the lift actually increases with rarefaction of the atmosphere.”

Gunderson’s face still showed disbelief, but he picked up the model. “I’ll get the tests for you. As for Dodge, aren’t you going to tell Nagle and Berkeley? And haven’t they anticipated something of this kind?”

“Yes,” said Montgomery. “I’m quite sure they’ve anticipated it. They’ll know why Dodge is here.”

Montgomery went to his hotel to rest. He had done all he could. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe Nagle and Berkeley would have come out better with somebody else in his place. But it had to be played now the way it lay.

He called Dr. Nagle and talked with him for fifteen minutes in regard to Dodge’s visit. As he suspected, the only thing that was news to Nagle was the time and the person who would initiate the investigation. It was agreed that Montgomery would bring the colonel over and introduce him and take part in the demonstration that would be given.

With this in hand, Montgomery went to sleep for the rest of the day.

Gunderson returned to Casa Buena the following day, an hour before Dodge’s shuttle plane from Oakland was due. The engineer went directly to Montgomery’s hotel. His hands were trembling faintly as he unfastened the brief case and handed Montgomery the sheaf of papers reporting the wind-tunnel performance of the model plane.

“This is the biggest thing since jet engines!” he said. “If a full scale design would give the same performance — You should have seen Evans and the rest of the wind-tunnel gang standing around with their mouths open as lift increased while pressure went down. Here’s the curve we got.”

Montgomery scanned it with satisfaction. It was just about as he predicted. There was the normal rate of loss from sea level to fifty thousand. It began to pick up a trifle there, and at eighty thousand the sharp, useful rise began. At a hundred thousand it plummeted again.

“If we’d only had that on the Ninety-one —” said Gunderson.

“We could have — if I had been able to take a look at myself in the Mirror early enough.”

Gunderson left. Montgomery went out to the small airport at the edge of town to meet Colonel Dodge, who arrived exactly on schedule. Dr. Spindem came along, of course. He seemed uneasy at the prospect of riding with Montgomery, but said nothing. There had been little conversation between the two men since the night of Montgomery’s report.

As the plane’s passengers disembarked, Dodge approached with cordial concern on his face. “It’s good to see you again, major. How are you? And Dr. Spindem —”

“Everything is fine,” said Montgomery. “I have explained your visit to Dr. Nagle. He has prepared a small demonstration which I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

Dodge’s lips compressed. “I’m sure I shall,” he said.

The colonel took a room at Montgomery’s hotel. In a half hour he was ready, after a shower and change of clothes, to go to the Institute. It was a half hour, however, in which Spindem conferred with him, while Montgomery waited in the lobby. The major was aware of a sharp change in Dodge’s expression as he came out.

Dr. Nagle seemed perfectly composed, however, as he received the unsmiling colonel, and the faintly contemptuous Dr. Spindem. He and Montgomery smiled at each other as they shook hands.

“I understand you have come to close us down,” he said abruptly as they took chairs.

The abrupt challenge startled Dodge, but he yielded no ground because of it. “We have obtained an injunction,” he said severely, “which we are prepared to exercise, on the grounds that you have hampered the military effort by inciting men to leave critical posts.”

“That is a rather severe action in light of our concept of freedom to move about and do as one thinks best. You have no moral control over these men.”

“These are severe times,” said Dodge. “But in fairness we are prepared to listen to an explanation of your actions — if you care to give one.”

“I should like to,” said Dr. Nagle, nodding slowly.

He outlined his beliefs regarding the untapped resources of the human mind as he had done on Montgomery’s initial visit. The colonel listened with interest, but without conviction.

“All that is most interesting,” he said, “but our institutions of learning and research have been at work on the problem for thousands of years. It is hardly likely that they would have failed to find a solution if one were as readily available as you suggest.”

“Suppose we view the demonstrations next, then?” Dr. Nagle suggested.

“I should like to say something at this point, gentlemen,” said Spindem suddenly. “In my field of work this search for supernormal faculties and functions of the human mind is recognized for what it is. The constant pre-occupation of our society now with schemes of a fantastic nature is pathological in the extreme. Among these we have the Superman fad, the popular dissertations on means of leaving the Earth and going to the Moon, Mars, Venus, et cetera. We have the yearning for means of telepathic communication — anything to circumscribe the necessity for utilizing and perfecting the conventional means at our disposal. It is too much hard labor to understand another man or another nation by perfecting vocal and written means of exchange. If we only had super powers, such as telepathy — presto! — all our difficulties would be over.

“Your assertions are suspiciously pathological, Dr. Nagle. We will improve Man when, and only when, we inspire him to hard work in use of the faculties with which he is normally endowed, and cease to search the clouds for something miraculous.”

Dr. Nagle smiled slowly. “Your last statement inspires my wholehearted enthusiasm, Dr. Spindem. And now, the demonstrations, gentlemen —?”

Montgomery had suggested that they not use the musical demonstration, or the similar artistic one, but Nagle had Norcross perform an original symphonic composition. Dodge knew Norcross by reputation and slight personal acquaintance. It was obvious that he was not impressed by the engineer’s performance. He simply didn’t believe it. He was furiously attempting to devise in his mind a solution to explain the mechanical trickery he thought he saw. To explain the mechanism involved, the reason behind Nagle’s use of it — and Norcross’ reasons for participating in it. He got no answer to any of the items.

Spindem, on the other hand, was rather entranced by the music. He listened uncritically, as if he could believe, for the moment at least, that it was being produced in the manner Nagle described.

There was a demonstration of art work, produced in full color in the shadow box. A half dozen students went through as many complicated problems of electronic design. Civil engineering and aeronautical designs were created in profusion.

It seemed to Montgomery that the very weight of material shown should break down Dodge’s skepticism, but he remained unmoved.

“I have seen nothing yet for which I could accept your explanation, Dr. Nagle,” he said. “These mysterious shadow boxes of yours — I’m afraid a much easier explanation for them can be found —”

“You will be allowed the opportunity,” said Nagle. “But we have saved the most important item until last. This was produced by one of your men —”

He drew out Montgomery’s model and specification sheets along with the report of the wind-tunnel tests made at Firestone.

“What’s this?” Dodge demanded. Then he bent to an examination of the articles before him. After five minutes he glanced up in disbelief. He sat down at the desk and read and reread the papers.

He looked up a final time, searching for Gunderson, who had been brought in at this point. “You conducted these tests yourself, and can verify this report?” Dodge asked him.

Gunderson nodded. “It's absolutely true. The Firestone lab crew will vouch for it, too.”

“This is amazing!” said Dodge. He got to his feet and faced Nagle. “At least you have one genuine item that is difficult to discredit. But there is still nothing in it to convince me that your Institute had anything to do with enabling the inventor to produce it. I fail to see how —”

“The man responsible for that design is well known to you,” said Dr. Nagle. “It is the work of Major Eugene Montgomery.”

There was ten seconds of absolute silence in which Dodge turned slowly to face the major. His face was incredulous. “Montgomery,” he breathed, “you —”

Major Montgomery held up his hand. A bitter smile was on his face. “Let me say it, colonel. I think I can make it easier for you. I know the whole story — and I doubt that Dr. Nagle knew that I was fully aware of it.

“He and Dr. Berkeley were most certainly aware that they could not disrupt the military production of the country without producing severe repercussions. They prepared an answer. I’m it.

“I caught on pretty early. At first I was puzzled that they would even let me in. Everybody else around here ranged from competent to genius. I was the only knucklehead in the whole bunch. Then I understood. I was to be the horrible example. If something could be made out of me —

“You knew, of course, that all my associates considered me a first-rate dope,” he said to Nagle. “I imagine Gunderson must have been in on it, and given you a thorough run-down on my incapacities. I know now that I was assigned to the Ninety-one simply because that project was too big to be loused up by me. Isn’t that it, colonel?”

“Montgomery, I didn’t mean —” The colonel dropped his hands to his sides.

“It’s all right,” said Nagle, smiling. “Major Montgomery doesn’t mind at all that you had him classified as a mental butterfingers. The important thing is that he no longer is such. He designed this new wing. The incompetent, fearful Montgomery you have known could not have done it. It required the changed, courageous Montgomery who has taken a look in the Mirror and knows what he is capable of doing and is no longer afraid to do it.”

Dodge was silent, then suddenly he grinned and thrust forward his hand to Montgomery. “I guess there’s no use denying we’ve had you pegged for a blockhead right from the beginning. We put you in Firestone because it was a place where you could strut around to your heart’s content without really hurting anything.

“But if these people have done something to you to enable you to create a design like this — well, we’re going to have to find out what it is. I want a look in this Mirror for myself!”

Dr. Spindem opened his mouth tentatively for the first time. His lips moved as if he were having difficulty in speaking. He said finally, “I’ve always fancied myself something of a musical composer. Do you suppose there would be any chance —?”

When the others had gone, Montgomery remained alone with Nagle. They went back to the director’s office.

“I hope you honestly have no regrets that we chose to use you for a guinea pig,” said Nagle. “Everything began moving in on us much faster than we had anticipated, your R&D, the FBI —”

Montgomery shook his head. “I have no regrets. All I ask is that I be allowed to finish now, on the same basis as the others.”

“You don’t believe you have finished? How far do you think there is to go?”

“I suppose that’s the routine you give everybody,” said Montgomery. “At least, I hope you’re not trying to brush me off. You told me I could look in the Mirror and ask myself who I am and what I’m doing. I did that.”

“We are not brushing you off,” said Nagle with deep sincerity. “A man stays as long as he likes. He finishes with the Mirror only when he is able to see nothing new in it.”

“I got just a glimpse of an answer to the question of who and what I am. I’m a human being — Humanity.”

Nagle nodded slowly without speaking.

“It’s in me — all of it,” Montgomery said. “There’s something in me that has been alive since the first spot of slime was thrown up in the seas and energized by a photon to become a living thing — something that has not known death between that moment and now. And all its wisdom and learning is hidden in me — in you, and all of us. I want it.”

“You can have it,” said Nagle, “if you can accept the cost. You know what it’s like. You’ve seen a little, but it’s only a sparkle of light reflected in a drop of water, compared with the full, sweeping image available to you.

“You’ve felt a little of the terror that keeps men from dropping the old, outmoded solutions to problems and facing the problems anew to get fresh, workable answers. If you look any farther, you’ll know that every man is the heir to all the terror and risk the human race has experienced in three billion years of development. It’s the terror that plagues him in nightmares and insanities and whittles his abilities to those of a midget when he ought to be a giant.

“It takes courage. We can stop the Mirror down to a microscopic aperture, so to speak, but you have to contribute your own courage or you will see nothing. If you have it, however, you can make all the wisdom of the race your own personal possession. The kind of wisdom that enabled it to develop through three billion years of boiling and flooding, attack by all other life forms and slaughter by its own kind. He’s made a lot of mistakes, but Man has become a very tough critter, and his wisdom is enormous in a racial sense.”

“I’ll tackle it,” said Montgomery. “I may not make it, but I'm willing to be one of the expendable ones.”

“The expendable ones —”

“It’s my own term, but I think it fits. I got a glimpse of what you meant by the homeostatic mechanisms of the race. The expendable ones are those who dare to attempt functioning without the homeostats.

“I thought that first day you were trying to tell me the homeostats should be destroyed, that the schools, for example, should be replaced. I see I misunderstood you. The school is necessary, so are all the other homeostatic mechanisms, in order for the race to function as a unit.

“The race can’t afford to take a chance. It has to be sure its movement is in a forward direction. Sometimes we think it is going full speed in reverse, but over the last three billion year period the general direction has been forward and up. To make sure it doesn’t go off at a wild tangent and lay itself open to every crackpot idea that comes along, it provides homeostatic controls to suppress the wild fluctuations of its members. The school, the church, the media of communication all act to inform the individual members that This is the Way. Anything else is out of line.

“The controls are pretty hard to keep in adjustment. They get set too low in periods of widespread, compulsory education, as you tried to tell me. Compulsion breeds rebellion, and the school begins to fail as a learning factor. It needs to be put back on the pedestal where it once was, and admission made a goal, not an obstacle.

“As it is, we are approaching a standstill. The One Right Way is suffused with bitterness and rebellion in all segments of society. The fire is burning pretty low.

“Steam-engine time is a fallacy. It’s neither right nor wrong. The race moves forward because of individuals who throw off homeostasis and step out of their culture. It prepares them to take the risk which it cannot take. They are expendable. They may go in the wrong direction and be destroyed. This is of no concern. What matters is the one or two individuals who find a better way. They come back and battle the homeostasis to prove they’ve found it. Sometimes they haven’t the courage to win this battle and the race has to wait for a better man, who can change the homeostatic setting of our institutions. This may be wasteful, but we get a picture of the alternative when dictatorships break up all homeostasis and substitute their own control.”

“We hoped you would see it this far — and want to go on,” said Nagle. “We pushed you pretty hard. Because we knew Dodge was getting set to attack, we more than tripled the natural fear-level control ordinarily used. We couldn’t wait for weeks, we had to have you now.

“Wolfe was sure it had cost you your sanity after that first run. I was a little worried, too, but I knew from your actions that you had to have a great deal of courage or you would not even be alive. I was certain you had faced death somewhere and had licked it positively and deliberately — at terrific cost to yourself.

“The threatened miscarriage was it. You were already so near death that only an organism of extreme determination could have fought its way back. I knew you could take almost anything.”

“Expendable — almost from the very beginning!” said Montgomery with only the faintest trace of bitterness.

“Yes,” said Nagle, “all of us. You’ll find that a billion years ago the race began to prepare you for this moment. It wants us to take an assignment — if we’re willing to accept it. A certain avenue is to be explored. Maybe it’s a blind alley and all our work will end in failure. But we’ll go down it alone. We can afford to take the risk. The race cannot. If we find it’s a good way to go, the race benefits. If we make an error, the race will pass us by, being saved from going the way we have gone.

“It’s a lonely business, but would you have it any other way?”