iron, but no one knows what his purpose is. He seems to be primarily interested in his own aggrandizement, and he has expressed the hope that some use can be made of you. The Galactic League people are bewildered. They can’t decide whether the cosmic chess player who has moved you into this game is an ally or not. Everybody is groping in the dark, wondering what to do next.”
She paused. Her eyes were bright and excited. “My friend,” she said, “there must be an opportunity for you in all this confusion. Take it.” She was suddenly earnest. “Take it if it is offered and hasn’t got impossible conditions attached to it. Stay alive.”
She was on her feet. She touched his arm in a gesture of friendliness, and half ran to the door. In the open doorway she paused.
“Good luck!” she said, and shut the door behind her.
Gosseyn had his shower, thinking, “How does she know what all these people do and believe? Who is
The man’s noble face lighted as he saw Gosseyn. Sitting there, he looked strong and calm and determined, an idealized version of a great man. He fixed his steady gaze on Gosseyn’s face.
“I had this suite prepared for you,” he said, “because I wanted to talk to you without fear of being overheard. But there is no time to waste.”
“Isn’t there?” said Gosseyn.
He spoke with deliberate hostility. This man had permitted a gang to make him president by a method which subverted the games of the Machine. The crime was colossal, unforgivable, and personal.
The fine face of the older man broke into a faint smile. “Come now,” said Hardie. “Let us not be juvenile. You want information. So do I. You ask three questions, then I’ll ask three.” A pause. Then sharply, “You must have questions, man.”
Gosseyn’s hostility collapsed. He had more questions than he could ask in an evening. There was no time to waste.
“Who are you?” he asked pointedly.
Hardie shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I am either what I appear to be or I am not. If the latter, then for me to tell you would put me at your mercy. A lie detector could get the information out of you.”
He finished curtly, “Don’t take up time with questions that might destroy me. Now hurry.”
“Do you know anything about me other than what has already been told?”
“Yes,” said President Hardie.
He must have seen the look that came into Gosseyn’s face, for he added quickly, “Not much, frankly. But a few days before you appeared on the scene, I received a letter in my personal mail. It was mailed here in the city of the Machine, and it indicated that the author knew all the details of what we had considered the best-kept secret in the solar system—the author knew about the attack being planned against Venus. After giving the whole story in brief, the letter went on to state that you would be staying at the Tropical Park Hotel and that you would prevent the attack on Venus.
“There was certain information in the letter which I did not care to have the others see, so I burned it and had you brought to the palace through the complicated procedure of which you already know. There you are. Now, question three.”
“Two!” corrected Gosseyn.
“Three. If I ask a question you refuse to answer, it will count against me. Fair?”
His protest had been automatic. His mind was on what Hardie had said. He did not doubt the story. The reality could have been something like that. What was behind it, of course, was another matter.
Gosseyn studied the older man, impressed for the first time. The President was only one of a diverse group of highly capable plotters, each with his own purposes. But it was his personal achievement that he had persuaded men as egotistical as himself to give him the highest nominal position. The man’s character, which he had scarcely thought about before, suddenly proved more intricate.
“Gosseyn, your next question!”
He had forgotten that speed was important. And besides the conviction was already on him that he was not going to learn much. These people didn’t know enough. He said, “What’s going to happen to me?”
“You will be made an offer, just what I don’t know yet Thorson and ‘X’ are talking it over. Whatever it is, I think you would be advised to accept it for the time being.
Mind you, you’re in a strong position. Theoretically, if you can have two bodies, then why not a third?” He frowned. “Still, that’s a speculation.”
Gosseyn had stopped believing that he had ever had two bodies. He parted his lips to say so scathingly, and then closed them again. His eyes narrowed. These people must have some purpose in trying to put over an idea like that. It all seemed obscure and meaningless, but he mustn’t forget that he had never actually been out of the control of the gang. Even the roboplane which claimed to be an agent of the Machine could have been carefully coached to give that impression. He’d better await developments.
He looked at Hardie and said aloud simply, “Yes, it’s a speculation.”
“My first question,” said Hardie, “has to do with the man or group who is behind you. Has anyone claiming to be the representative of such an individual contacted you?”
“Definitely not. Unless the Machine is responsible, then I’m absolutely in the dark.”
Hardie said, “Your belief about that does not make it so.” He smiled. “Now you’ve got me making null-A statements. I’ve noticed the others do it, too. Even as we plot to destroy the null-A philosophy, we adopt its logic. ‘The map is not the territory.’ Your belief that you know nothing is an abstraction from reality, not the reality itself.”
He paused. He sat quiet for a moment smiling with amusement, then said, “Question two: Have you any feeling in yourself of being different from other human beings?” He shrugged. “I admit that’s an unsemantic question, because you can only know by observation what other people are like and your observations my be different from my own. We live in private worlds. Still, I can’t describe it better than that. Well?”
This time Gosseyn found the question not only acceptable but profoundly interesting. Here were his own thoughts being put into words.
“I feel no difference in myself. I assume you mean the discovery made about my brain by Thorson.” He broke off, tense. “What is there about my brain?”
He leaned forward. His body felt cold and hot by turns. He sighed as Hardie said, “Wait your turn. I still have my third question. What I want to know is, how did you find Crang’s hideout?”
“I was taken there by a roboplane, which forced me to go along.”
“Whose roboplane?” said Hardie.
“It’s my question, thank you,” said Gosseyn. “I think maybe we’d better each ask a question at a time. What’s in my brain?”
“Additional brain matter. I know nothing of its nature. Thorson has come to discount its possibilities.”
Gosseyn nodded. He was inclined to agree with Thorson. From the beginning he had felt not the slightest “difference.”
“Whose roboplane?” Hardie repeated.
“It implied that it represented the Machine.”
“Implied?”
“My question,” said Gosseyn.
Hardie scowled. “You’re not answering your questions completely. Didn’t it give you any evidence?”
“It knew several things that the Machine knows, but it urged me to surrender. I regard that as suspicious.”
Hardie was thoughtful. “I see your point. And I can’t clear that up for you. Crang dominates Thorson these days, and I am in the dark on many things. I’m afraid”—he smiled ruefully—“I’m being relegated.”
So that was why he was here, offering facts on an equal exchange basis. Gosseyn had a sudden vivid picture of these Earthmen beginning to realize that they had been pawns. Before he could speak, Hardie said harshly, “I regret nothing, if that’s what you’re thinking. The Machine denied me the right to further advancement, and I refused to accept any such limitation.”
