The Man In The Maze

neatly. Maybe the gods have decided that you’ve suffered enough. And so long as we’re having a literary discussion—they forgave Orestes, didn’t they? So why isn’t nine years here enough for you?”

“Is there a cure?”

“The medic says there is.”

“I think you’re lying to me, boy.”

Rawlins glanced away. “What do I have to gain by lying?”

“I can’t guess.”

“All right, I’m lying,” Rawlins said brusquely. “There’s no way to help you. Let’s talk about something else. Why don’t you show me the fountain where that liqueur rises?”

“It’s in Zone C,” said Muller. “I don’t feel like going there just now. Why did you tell me that story if it wasn’t true?”

“I said we’d change the subject.”

“Let’s assume for the moment that it is true,” Muller persisted. “That if I go back to Earth I can be cured. I want to let you know that I’m not interested, not even with a guarantee. I’ve seen Earthmen in their true nature. They kicked me when I was down. Not sporting, Ned. They stink. They reek. They gloried in what had happened to me.”

“That isn’t so!”

“What do you know? You were a child. Even more then than now. They treated me as filth because I showed them what was inside themselves. A mirror for their dirty souls. Why should I go back to them now? Why do I need them? Worms. Pigs. I saw them as they really are, those few months I was on Earth after Beta Hydri IV. The look in the eyes, the nervous smile as they back away from me. Yes, Mr. Muller. Of course, Mr. Muller. Just don’t come too close, Mr. Muller. Boy, come by here some time at night and let me show you the constellations as seen from Lemnos. I’ve given them my own names. There’s the Dagger, a long keen one. It’s about to be thrust into the Back. Then there’s the Shaft. And you can see the Ape, too, and the Toad. They interlock. The same star is in the forehead of the Ape and the left eye of the Toad. That star is Sol, my friend. An ugly little yellow star, the color of thin vomit. Whose planets are populated by ugly little people who have spread like trickling urine over the whole universe.”

“Can I say something that might offend you?” Rawlins asked. “You can’t offend me. But you can try.”

“I think your outlook is distorted. You’ve lost your perspective, all these years here.”

“No. I’ve learned how to see for the first time.”

“You’re blaming humanity for being human. It’s not easy to accept someone like you. If you were sitting here in my place, and I in yours, you’d understand that. It hurts to be near you. It hurts. Right now I feel pain in every nerve. If I came closer I’d feel like crying. You can’t expect people to adjust quickly to somebody like that. Not even your loved ones could—”

“I had no loved ones.”

“You were married.”

“Terminated.”

“Liaisons, then.”

“They couldn’t stand me when I came back.”

“Friends?”

“They ran,” Muller said. “On all six legs they scuttled away from me.”

“You didn’t give them time.”

“Time enough.”

“No,” Rawlins persisted. He shifted about uneasily on the chair. “Now I’m going to say something that will really hurt you, Dick. I’m sorry, but I have to. What you’re telling me is the kind of stuff I heard in college. Sophomore cynicism. The world is despicable, you say. Evil, evil, evil. You’ve seen the true nature of mankind, and you don’t want to have anything to do with mankind ever again. Everybody talks that way at eighteen. But it’s a phase that passes. We get over the confusions of being eighteen, and we see that the world is a pretty decent place, that people try to do their best, that we’re imperfect but not loathsome—”

“An eighteen-year-old has no right to those opinions. I do. I come by my hatreds the hard way.”

“But why cling to them? You seem to be glorying in your own misery. Break loose! Shake it off! Come back to Earth with us and forget the past. Or at least forgive.”

“No forgetting. No forgiving.” Muller scowled. A tremor of fear shook him, and he shivered. What if this were true? A genuine cure? Leave Lemnos? He was a trifle embarrassed. The boy had scored a palpable hit with that line about sophomore cynicism. It was. Am I really such a misanthrope? A pose. He forced me to adopt it. Polemic reasons. Now I choke on my own stubbornness. But there’s no cure. The boy’s transparent; he’s lying, though I don’t know why. He wants to trap me, to get me aboard that ship of theirs. What if it’s true? Why not go back? Muller could supply his own answers. It was the fear that held him. To see Earth’s billions. To enter the stream of life. Nine years on a desert island and he dreaded to return. He slipped into a pit of depression, recognizing hard truths. The man who would be a god was just a pitiful neurotic now, clinging to his isolation, spitting defiance at a possible rescuer. Sad, Muller thought. Very sad.

Rawlins said, “I can feel the flavor of your thoughts changing.”

“You can?”

“Nothing specific. But you were angry and bitter before. Now I’m getting something—wistful.”

“No one ever told me he could detect meanings,” Muller said in wonder. “No one ever said much. Only that it was painful to be near me. Disgusting.”

“Why did you go wistful just then, though? If you did. Thinking of Earth?”

“Maybe I was.” Muller hastily patched the sudden gap in his armor. His face darkened. He clenched his jaws. He stood up and deliberately approached Rawlins, watching the young man struggling to hide his real feelings of discomfort. Muller said, “I think you’d better get about your archaeologizing now, Ned. Your friends will be angry again.”

“I still have some time.”

“No, you don’t. Go!”

3

Against Charles Boardman’s express orders, Rawlins insisted on returning all the way to the Zone F camp that evening. The pretext was that Rawlins had to deliver the new flask of liqueur which he had finally been able to wheedle out of Muller. Board-man wanted one of the other men to pick up the flask, sparing Rawlins from the risks of Zone F’s snares. Rawlins needed the direct contact, though. He was badly shaken. His resolve was sagging.

He found Boardman at dinner. A polished dining-board of dark wood mortised with light woods sat before him. Out of elegant stoneware he ate candied fruits, brandied vegetables, meat extracts, pungent juices. A carafe of wine of a deep olive hue was near his fleshy hand. Mysterious pills of several types rested in the shallow pits of an oblong block of black glass; from time to time Boardman popped one into his mouth. Rawlins stood at the sector opening for a long while before Boardman appeared to notice him.

“I told you not to come here, Ned,” the old man said finally.

“Muller sends you this.” Rawlins put the flask down beside the carafe of wine.

“We could have talked without this visit.”

“I’m tired of that. I needed to see you.” Boardman left him standing and did not interrupt his meal. “Charles, I don’t think I can keep up the pretense with him.”

“You did an excellent job today,” said Boardman, sipping his wine. “Quite convincing.”

“Yes, I’m learning how to tell lies. But what’s the use? You heard him. Mankind disgusts him. He’s not going to cooperate once we get him out of the maze.”

“He isn’t sincere. You said it yourself, Ned. Cheap sophomore cynicism. The man loves mankind. That’s why he’s so bitter— because his love has turned sour in his mouth. But it hasn’t turned to hate. Not really.”

“You weren’t there, Charles. You weren’t talking to him.”