from him. He had healed. And not just some imagined ailment. He had healed a fatal wound. A man lived because of him. And because that man lived, hope lived in Luke's heart. He breakfasted on fishcakes made from an odorous meal which tasted almost as bad as it smelled. His coffee was bitter-weak, in spite of a reckless splurge of generous spoonings of the ground near-coffee into the
hot water. It was not the best of all possible ways to start a day, but Luke's optimism was stronger than his usual distaste for the unappetizing meal. He gulped it down, dressed in a clean set of coveralls, his number-two outfit, and was making his plans for the day when he heard the authoritative knock on the door. «Coming,» he said, turning, wondering who could be calling at this hour of the morning. He did not have time to reach the door. The ancient, weakened wood of the frame gave way under a pounding force. Wood splintered, the bolts and locks broke and bent. A helmeted Brotherfuzz lurched in behind the broken door, righted himself, weapon at the ready. Luke froze in shock. More Brotherfuzz moved in, three of them, big, grim, coming toward him silently. «I'm clean,» Luke said, thinking with belly-sinking panic of the incriminating bottle of Soul Lifter on the shelf. «I'm—» Without speaking, two of the Brotherfuzz seized his arms, lifted him until his feet were barely touching the floor, hustled him toward the door. «Hey, listen,» Luke said. «Listen, what is all this?» The most frightening thing was the silence of the three Brotherfuzz. They moved him along rapidly, out the door, down the hall, past the nonfunctioning elevator, down the stairs. «What is it?» Luke asked. «Where are you taking me?» A jet-rotor with Brother markings waited. Curious people stood at a safe distance and watched Luke being shoved into the craft. Numbed by
the suddenness of it, Luke was pliant. He made no effort to resist, took his seat between two of the big Brotherfuzz as the rotor hummed, roared,
listed slightly as it lifted. Below, Luke saw a ground truck pull up in front of his building. Uniformed Brotherfuzz poured out, carrying instruments which were unfamiliar to Luke. They moved into the entrance as the rotor lifted beyond the walls of the canyon and Luke, for the first time in his nineteen years, saw Old Town spread below, spiked and turreted and glassed and looking strangely neat and clean. For a moment he forgot to be frightened. A kind of elation filled him. Thus God must see the world, from on high, a world of moiling humanity and tall buildings and ground cars crawling on the streets. «It must be nice,» Luke said to one of the Brotherfuzz, smiling, «to be able to see this every day, huh?» Silence. Grim faces looking straight ahead. The hum of the jet- rotor. And Luke could sec the water. Huge ships. Small craft moving. It was so damned beautiful he felt tears come to his eyes. He lifted his hand to wipe them away, shamed. A Brotherfuzz caught his arm, shook his head menacingly «Don't try anything. Lay. « «No, sir,» Luke said. But the moment of beauty known was past. In its place fear, dread. Ahead, tall buildings, the rotorcraft just clearing the tops, another Brotherfuzz rotor passing, gleaming with Brother insignia, piloted by a grim-faced Brotherfuzz who waved. Then, moving down slowly toward a
port on the roof of a dark, old building. Luke didn't recognize it at first. Then, as he drew closer, the front of the building perspected down toward the distant street and he knew that it was the Hall of Justice. «Listen,» he said, «could you tell me why?» Silence. A slight bump as the rotorcraft landed. Luke was pulled out, two Brotherfuzz on his arms, lifting him, dragging him, his feet working to
try to keep up, to try to get a purchase on the roof, to walk. A door opened ahead of them. A guard nodded, looked at Luke without curiosity. Luke was jerked to a halt in front of a desk. An old Brotherfuzz didn't look up. «Name.» «I am poor Apprentice Brother, Third Class, Luke Parker, by your leave,» Luke said. «Room 802,» the man at the desk said, still not looking up. «Listen,» Luke said, as he was being hustled along a hall, into an
elevator, «if it's the Soul Lifter, I can explain. It's not mine, see? I mean it was left there, you know?» Silence. A dropping sensation. Down, down the shaft. Out into a hallway which was windowless, dim. Luke noted the room numbers. 806. 804. 802. Into the room, coming to a halt, looking around with a sinking sensation. More Brotherfuzz, high-ranking men. And a full Brother in a purple robe, looking grim. «Luke Parker,» one of Luke's captors said, speaking for the first time. «You may leave,» said the Brother. Luke was left standing alone. «Sit,» the Brother said, waving toward a hard, straight chair. «Brother,» Luke said, thinking that maybe things were not so bad after all. He'd wanted to come into contact with a Brother. He'd wanted to tell about the miracle. He wanted to ask for his chance. With such a gift, surely he'd be made a full Brother without having to take the impossible tests. «You will speak when you are told to speak.» One of the high-ranking Brotherfuzz said. «Name,» said the Brother. «Luke Parker,» he said, frightened again. «Lay?» asked the Brother. «Apprentice Brother, Third Class.» «By what means?» «By appointment,» Luke said. «To University One, the Brothers?» «Get his record.» The Brother sighed. He turned to Luke. «Is that where you learned medicine?» «Huh?» Luke said. «You will find it easier if you cooperate,» said one of the Brotherfuzz. «Sure—I mean, yes, sir,» Luke said. «Were you taught medicine at University One?» the Brother asked. «No, sir,» Luke said. A Brotherfuzz came in with a sheet of copy paper, handed it to the Brother, who looked at it with knitted brows for a moment. Finished, he looked at Luke. «Where did you learn medicine?» «Sir,» Luke said, frowning in sincere concentration, «I'm not sure I know—» «The search team,» said a Brotherfuzz, answering a signal on a communicator. The Brother took the headset. He listened. «Very Well,» he said, taking off the headset. They looked at Luke. The Brother frowned. Luke swallowed nervously. «They found nothing but Newasper and a partially consumed bottle of Soul Lifter in his apartment,» he said, as if to himself. «Listen, sir,» Luke said, «about that Soul Lifter—» «You are in serious trouble, young man,» the Brother said. «I know, sir,» Luke said, «but you see, it wasn't mine. I mean, this guy left it there, you know? I mean, I was going to report it—» «Silence!» the Brother said coldly. He leaned toward Luke, his face working with what seemed to be suppressed anger. «Now I want you to
talk and talk fast. I want you to tell me where you learned medicine. I want you to tell me where you have hidden your tools, your drugs. I don't want to hear any more rot about Soul Lifter, do you understand?» «Yes, sir, I mean, well—» Luke was truly baffled. «I'll tell you anything.
I'm a good citizen, sir. I mean, I've never been busted. And I try to do all I can—» «Last night,» the Brother said, breaking in, «you healed a Fare called James Trimble. He had been wounded in a street fight. You used medical knowledge and equipment to heal his wounds. I want to know what you used and where you learned the skill.» Luke sighed with vast relief. «Oh, that,» he said. «Praise, God, I'm glad you brought that up. Brother, I healed! I mean I really healed.» «Yes,» the Brother said. «I got this sign from God, you know.» I mean I prayed and this sign came and—» «All right,» the Brother said. «I will not question your sincerity. How did you heal the Fare?» «He was cut, Brother, you know?» Luke said, excited now, trying to talk faster than his lips and tongue would move. «He was cut bad. I looked at him and I knew he was dying. And I knew that I couldn't help him. I've got this gift, you know, sir? I mean, sometimes I really can heal. I mean, I've healed things before. But I knew I couldn't heal this Fare, because he was dying and his entrails were hanging out and then God sent this sign and I
felt this tremendous surge of—something. I felt it. I got this sign from God. I mean, the whole heavens lit up—and they told me later it was the station blowing up, but it was a sign, nevertheless, and it gave me this power and I said, HEAL! and the cut closed and there was nothing left but some blood and—» «Put him on the rack,» the Brother said. Two Brotherfuzz leaped toward Luke. He gasped in surprise as he was seized, lifted. He was hustled into an adjoining room. He recognized the shakeshock rack and his heart leaped and his throat went dry. «Brother,» he cried out, his voice choked. «Brother, please.» But they were throwing him onto the rack and he was too shocked and too frightened to fight. He felt the straps go around his arms and his legs and then the big strap across his forehead. «I'm giving you one last chance,» the Brother said. He stood beside Luke, the control panel for the shakeshock rack in one hand. «Tell me where you learned the medicine. Tell me where you've hidden your equipment.» «I'm telling you, sir,» Luke cried. «It was faith and the power from God!» A teethshaking jolt hit him. His every muscle spasmed, tightened, screamed. A muffled grunt was shocked from his throat and his heart stopped momentarily, leaving a great, tearing pain in his chest and he couldn't even scream and it went on for an eternity and then it stopped and his spasmed body plumped back down onto the rack and he screamed, once. «Where and how?» the Brother said. «Oh, God,» Luke sobbed. «Oh, my God.» «Talk,» the Brother said. «Brother,» one of the high-ranking Brotherfuzz said with humble deference, «I would point out to you that you have the machine turned to two-thirds power.» «I know,» the Brother said. «I have little patience with such as this.» He looked down at Luke. Tears were streaming down Luke's cheeks. «Now, Parker, now. Where is the medical gear?» «Oh, God, Brother, as God and the Holy Book are my witnesses—» Jolt. Rippppppp. Terror. Heart stopped and body thrown into convulsions of unbelievable pain which went on again for the eternity and left him in a half-fainting condition and sobs coming with metronomic regularity and tears and fear and hopelessness. «Oh, God, help me,» his voice said and it was from somewhere outside of him. «The gear was not in your room,» the Brother said. «We know you practiced medicine. We know, do you understand? We have witnesses. We have a half dozen Tired and Fares who saw you practice medicine. They saw the cut in the Fare's stomach and they saw you close it. Now, tell
