exciting.'
'You're wonderful!' I jumped to my feet and, in a fit of mad enthusiasm, seized her and kissed her. Then I sat down quickly again as the hormones started humming and driving all other thoughts from mind. She was an incredibly bright, lovely, intelligent, beautiful girl and I was just going to have to forget all about that. For the time being. 'We better get started.'
'My brother will take you to the theatre. I will phone them and arrange what must be done. Then I will make the transportation arrangements. You do not mind if I say that I find this fascinating and exciting as well. I must thank you for letting me help. It is so much more fun than school.'
'The thanks are mine. What do you study in school?'
'Vulcanology. I just love the magma and the scoria, then when you go down the fumerole…'
'Yes. You must tell me of those burning pleasures. Later.'
'Of course - there is my brother now.'
I think that it was a special train that they laid on. Just two cars and no other passengers. Morton looked guilty - but glad as well that he wasn't going back to Bellegarrique. I waved him a stiff goodbye with my cane and climbed shakily aboard. I was ancient and crochety and needed practice. Gray beard, rheumy red eyes, wrinkled like an old boot, they had really done a great job at the theatre. A harness under my clothes had me bent over so far that I was staring down at my wrinkled and liverspotted hands.
The track was straight, the train was fast and there were no stops until we reached our destination. A black vehicle was waiting on the platform when we arrived. The driver got out and held the door open for us.
'You've driven one of these?' he asked.
Neebe nodded. 'A two hundred volt Lasher-gnasher. Great fun to drive.'
'Indeed they are. I've got her rewed up to thirty-three thousand. More than enough energy for the trip.' He pointed to the circular housing between the rear wheels. 'The flywheel is in here, electric generator on its shaft. Motor on the front wheels. Clean and nonpolluting.'
'And very hard to turn over with that gyroscope down there,' I said.
'You've got it. Good luck.'
Neebe spun the wheels and I was pushed back into the seat by a large number of G's. We hurtled along the empty road.
'I'll slow down before we reach the roadblock. Isn't this fan! I wonder what the top speed is?'
'Don't… find out!' I croaked as the landscape hurtled by in a blur. 'Though I am an old man and have led a full life I don't want to terminate it quite yet!'
She laughed her gorgeous bell-like laugh and slowed to something close to the speed of sound. She obviously knew the road well, all those bicycle outings of course, for suddenly she hit the brakes, slowed to a crawl, then turned the corner just before the barrier across the road.
'What you doing blocking the road like that, you varmints?' I croaked testily out of the window, then shook my cane at the fat captain who was leaning against it picking his teeth. Remnants of hotpup, I hoped.
'Knock off the cagal, Grandpop. Where do you think you're going?'
'Are you as stupid as you look, stupid? Or haven't you heard your supreme commander's orders? City workers to return at once. I am an electrical engineer and if you want light in your latrines and refrigeration for your beer you will open that thing instantly or sooner.'
'Don't get your cagal in an uproar, Grandpop,' he sneered. But he stepped back and signaled two sergeants to open the barrier. Not a private in sight, I noticed. I hoped the officers enjoyed doing their own work for a change. I shook the cane one last shake as we drove past, then on down the road and around a bend and out of sight. Neebe pulled up at the first phonebox and I leaped arthritically down, 'Are you in the city?' Stirner asked. 'Just arrived.'
'Very good. Then we will meet at the entrance.'
'Entrance? What, where?'
'Mark Forer Square, of course. Where else would it be?'
Good question. I had imagined that only the statue was there. I hadn't realized that old Mark itself was in residence. I climbed back into the car and we were off with the usual screech of tires. I pulled off bits of the disguise as we went, starting with the harness. I left the beard on in case there were any patrols around - and there were. 'Slow down,' I cozened. 'Let's not be too suspicious.' The sergeant leading the patrol glared at us as we went by. I ignored him but was very impressed by his squad. As they turned the corner the last two slipped into the open door of a building and vanished from sight. So not only weren't the deserters returning - but their ranks were steadily being added to. Great! If this kept up Zennor would soon have an army of only officers and noncoms. You don't win wars with that kind of setup. I saw that we were getting close to our destination so I pulled at the beard and wrinkles and was forty years younger by the time we turned into the square and slid to a stop. Stirner was standing before the statue, looking up at it admiringly. 'I wish I were coming with you,' he said.
'I as well,' Neebe agreed. 'It would be wonderfully exciting. But of course we have not been asked so we cannot intrude.'
'How do I get in?'
Stirner pointed to a bronze door at the rear of the stone base of the statue. 'Through there.'
'Got the key?'
They both looked at me with surprise. 'Of course not. It's not locked.'
'I should have known,' I muttered. What a philosophy. Hundreds, thousands of years the door has been here, unlocked, and no one had ever gone through it. I put out my hand and they took it in turn and shook it solemnly. I could understand why. This was a little like saying so long to the head of your local church as he started up the ladder to see God.
The handle was stiff, but turned when I twisted hard. I pulled and the door squeaked slowly open. Steps led down into the ground, a little dusty. Lights came on and I could see that one of the bulbs was burned out. I just hoped that Mark Forer wasn't burned out as well.
I sneezed as my feet disturbed the dust of ages. And it was a long way down. The steps ended in a small chamber with illuminated wiring diagrams on the walls and a large, gold-plated door. Carved into it, and inset with diamonds, were the immortal words 'I AM, THEREFORE I THINK'. Beneath this was a small sign with red letters that read 'PLEASE WIPE FEET BEFORE ENTERING'. I did this, on the mat provided, took a deep breath and reached for the handle that appeared to have been carved from a single ruby.
The door swung open on oiled hinges and I went in. A large, well-lit room, dry and air conditioned. Dials and electronic devices covering one wall. And in the middle of the room…
Mark Forer, obviously. Just like in the paintings. Except that plenty of cables and wires ran from it to a nearby collection of apparatus. Its dials glowed with electronic life and a TV pickup swiveled in my direction. I walked over to stand before it and resisted the compelling desire to bow. And just what does one say to an intelligent machine? The silence lengthened and I began to feel ridiculous. I cleared my throat. 'Mark Forer, I presume?'
'Of course. Were you expecting someone else… krrk!
The voice was grating and coarse and the words trailed off with a harsh grating sound. At the same time there was a puff of smoke from a panel on the front and a hatch dropped open. My temper snapped.
'Great! Really wonderful. For hundreds of years this electronic know-it-all sits here with the wisdom of the ages locked in its memory banks. Then the second I talk to it it explodes and expires. It is like the punch line of a bad joke…'
There was a rattle from behind and I leaped and turned, dropped into a defensive position. But it was only a little rubber-tired robot bristling with mechanical extensions. It wheeled up in front of Mark and stopped. A claw- tipped arm shot out, plunging into the open panel. It clicked and whirred and withdrew a circuit board which it threw onto the floor. While this was happening another circuit board was emerging from a slot on the robot's upper surface. The grasping claw seized this and delicately slid into the opening before it. Mark's panel snapped shut as the robot spun about and trundled away.
'No,' Mark Forer said in a deep and resonant voice, 'I did not explode and expire. My voice simulation board did. Shorted out. Been a number of centuries since I last used it. You are the offworlder, James diGriz.'
'I am. For a machine in an underground vault you keep up with things pretty well, Mark.'
'No problem, Jim - since you appear to enjoy a first name basis. Because all of my input is electronic it really
