The physicist shrugged. “That’s not for me to say. It would be up to the Grand Council, of course.”
“You would not consider making the invention available to the Empire?”
“I? I have no objections at all. But only the Grand Council has jurisdiction over—”
“Oh,” said Ennius with impatience, “the devil with your Grand Council. I have had dealings with them before. Would you be willing to talk to them at the proper time?”
“Why, what influence could I possible have?”
“You might tell them that if Earth could produce a Synapsifier that would be applicable to human beings in complete safety, and if the device were made available to the Galaxy, then some of the restrictions on emigration to other planets might be broken down.”
“What,” said Shekt sarcastically, “and risk epidemics and our differentness and our non-humanity?”
“You might,” said Ennius quietly, “even be removed en masse to another planet. Consider it.”
The door opened at this point and a young lady brushed her way in past the book-film cabinet. She destroyed the musty atmosphere of the cloistered study with an automatic breath of spring. At the sight of a stranger she reddened slightly and turned.
“Come in, Pola,” called Shekt hastily. “My Lord,” he said to Ennius, “I believe you have never met my daughter. Pola, this is Lord Ennius, Procurator of Earth.”
The Procurator was on his feet with an easy gallantry that negated her first wild attempt at a curtsy.
“My dear Miss Shekt,” he said, “you are an ornament I did not believe Earth capable of producing. You would, indeed, be an ornament on any world I can think of.”
He took Pola’s hand, which was quickly and somewhat bashfully extended to meet his gesture. For a moment Ennius made as if to kiss it, in the courtly fashion of the past generation, but the intention, if such it was, never came to fruition. Half lifted, the hand was released—a trace too quickly, perhaps.
Pola, with the slightest of frowns, said, “I’m overwhelmed at your kindness, my Lord, to a simple girl of Earth. You are brave and gallant to dare infection as you do.”
Shekt cleared his throat and interrupted. “My daughter, Procurator, is completing her studies at the University of Chica and is obtaining some needed field credits by spending two days a week in my laboratory as a technician. A competent girl, and though I say it with the pride of a father, she may someday sit in my place.”
“Father,” said Pola gently, “I have some important information for you.” She hesitated.
“Shall I leave?” said Ennius quietly.
“No, no,” said Shekt. “What is it, Pola?”
The girl said, “We have a volunteer, Father.”
Shekt stared, almost stupidly. “For the Synapsifier?”
“So he says.”
“Well,” said Ennius, “I bring you good fortune, I see.”
“So it would seem.” Shekt turned to his daughter. “Tell him to wait. Take him to Room C, and I’ll be with him soon.”
He turned to Ennius after Pola left. “Will you excuse me, Procurator?”
“Certainly. How long does the operation take?”
“It’s a matter of hours, I’m afraid. Do you wish to watch?”
“I can imagine nothing more gruesome, my dear Shekt. I’ll be in the State House till tomorrow. Will you tell me the result?”
Shekt seemed relieved. “Yes, certainly.”
“Good. . . . And think over what I said about your Synapsifier. Your new royal road to knowledge.”
Ennius left, less at ease than when he had arrived; his knowledge no greater, his fears much increased.
5
The Involuntary Volunteer
Once alone, Dr. Shekt, quietly and cautiously, touched the summoner, and a young technician entered hurriedly, white robe sparkling, long brown hair carefully bound back.
Dr. Shekt said, “Has Pola told you—”
“Yes, Dr. Shekt. I’ve observed him through the visiplate, and he must undoubtedly be a legitimate volunteer. He’s certainly not a subject sent in the usual manner.”
“Ought I refer to the Council, do you suppose?”
“I don’t know what to advise. The Council wouldn’t approve of any ordinary communication. Any beam can be tapped, you know.” Then, eagerly, “Suppose I get rid of him. I can tell him we need men under thirty. The subject is easily thirty-five.”
“No, no. I’d better see him.” Shekt’s mind was a cold whirl. So far things had been most judiciously handled. Just enough information to lend a spurious frankness, but no more. And now an actual volunteer—and immediately after Ennius’s visit. Was there a connection? Shekt himself had but the vaguest knowledge of the giant misty forces that were now beginning to wrestle back and forth across the blasted face of Earth. But, in a way, he knew enough. Enough to feel himself at the mercy of them, and certainly more than any of the Ancients suspected he knew.
Yet what could he do, since his life was doubly in danger?
Ten minutes later Dr. Shekt was peering helplessly at the gnarled farmer standing before him, cap in hand, head half averted, as though attempting to avoid a too-close scrutiny. His age, thought Shekt, was certainly under forty, but the hard life of the soil was no flatterer of men. The man’s cheeks were reddened beneath the leathery brown, and there were distinct traces of perspiration at the hairline and the temples, though the room was cool. The man’s hands were fumbling at each other.
“Now, my dear sir,” said Shekt kindly, “I understand you refuse to give your name.”
Arbin’s was a blind stubbornness. “I was told no questions would be asked if you had a volunteer.”
“Hmm. Well, is there anything at all you would like to say? Or do you just want to be treated immediately?”
“Me? Here, now?” in sudden panic. “It’s not myself that’s the volunteer. I didn’t say anything to give that impression.”
“No? You mean someone else is the volunteer?”
“Certainly. What would I want—”
“I understand. Is the subject, this other man, with you?”
“In a way,” said Arbin cautiously.
“All right. Now, look, just tell us whatever you wish. Everything you say will be held in strict confidence, and we’ll help you in whatever way we can. Agreed?”
The farmer
