the unseen powers behind Karellen. Even before these impersonal electric minds had arrived at their conclusions, however, the Inspector had given his own recommendations. Expressed in the thoughts and language of the human race, they would have run as follows:
“We need take no action regarding the Colony. It is an interesting experiment, but cannot in any way affect the future. Its artistic endeavours are no concern of ours, and there is no evidence that any scientific research is progressing along dangerous channels.
“As planned, I was able to see the school records of Subject Zero, without arousing curiosity. The relevant statistics are attached, and it will be seen that there are still no signs of any unusual development. Yet, as we know, Breakthrough seldom gives much prior warning.
“I also met the Subject's father, and gathered the impression that he wished to speak to me. Fortunately I was able to avoid this. There is no doubt that he suspects something, though of course he can never guess the truth nor affect the outcome in any way.
“I grow more and more sorry for these people.”
George Greggson would have agreed with the Inspector's verdict that there was nothing unusual about Jeff. There was just that one baffling incident, as startling as a single clap of thunder on a long, calm day. And after that—nothing.
Jeff had all the energy and inquisitiveness of any other seven-year-old. He was intelligent—when he bothered to be—but was in no danger of becoming a genius. Sometimes, Jean thought a little wearily, he filled to perfection the classic recipe for a small boy: “a noise surrounded by dirt”. Not that it was very easy to be certain about the dirt, which had to accumulate for a considerable time before it showed against Jeff's normal sunburn.
By turns he could be affectionate or morose, reserved or ebullient. He showed no preference for one parent rather than the other, and the arrival of his little sister had not produced any signs of jealousy. His medical card was spotless; he had never had a day's illness in his life. But in these times, and in such a climate, there was nothing unusual about this.
Unlike some boys, Jeff did not grow quickly bored by his father's company and desert him whenever possible for associates of his own age. It was obvious that he shared George's artistic talents, and almost as soon as he was able to walk had become a regular back-stage visitor to the Colony's theatre. Indeed, the theatre had adopted him as an unofficial mascot, and he was now highly skilled at presenting bouquets to visiting celebrities of stage and screen.
Yes, Jeff was a perfectly ordinary boy. So George reassured himself as they went for walks or rides together over the Island's rather restricted terrain. They would talk as sons and fathers had done since the beginning of time—except that in this age there was so much more to talk about. Though Jeff never left the Island, he could see all that he wished of the surrounding world through the ubiquitous eye of the television screen. He felt, like all the Colonists, a slight disdain for the rest of mankind. They were the elite, the vanguard of progress. They would take Mankind to the heights that the Overlords had reached—and perhaps beyond. Not tomorrow, certainly, but one day. They never guessed that that day would be all too soon.
18
The dreams began six weeks later.
In the darkness of the subtropical night, George Greggson swam slowly upwards towards consciousness. He did not know what had awakened him, and for a moment he lay in a puzzled stupor. Then he realized that he was alone. Jean had got up and gone silently into the nursery. She was talking quietly to Jeff, too quietly for him to hear what she was saying.
George heaved himself out of bed and went to join her. The Poppet had made such nocturnal excursions common enough, but then there had been no question of his remaining asleep through the uproar. This was something quite different and he wondered what had disturbed Jean.
The only light in the nursery came from the fluoro-paint patterns on the walls. By their dim glow, George could see Jean sitting beside Jeff's bed. She turned as he came in, and whispered, “Don't disturb the Poppet.”
“What's the matter?”
“I knew that Jeff wanted me, and that woke me up.”
The very matter-of-fact simplicity of that statement gave George a feeling of sick apprehension. “I knew that Jeff wanted me.” How did you know? he wondered. But all he asked was:
“Has he been having nightmares?”
“I'm not sure,” said Jean, “he seems all right now. But he was frightened when I came in.”
“I wasn't frightened, Mummy,” came a small, indignant voice. “But it was such a strange place.”
“What was?” asked George. “Tell me all about it.”
“There were mountains,” said Jeff dreamily. “They were ever so high and there was no snow on them, like on all the mountains I've ever seen. Some of them were burning.”
“You mean—volcanoes?”
“Not really. They were burning all over, with funny blue flames. And while I was watching, the sun came up.”
“Go on—why have you stopped?” Jeff turned puzzled eyes towards his father.
“That's the other thing I don't understand, Daddy. It came up so quickly, and it was much too big. And—it wasn't the right colour. It was such a pretty blue.” There was a long, heart-freezing silence. Then George said quietly, “Is that all?”
“Yes. I began to feel kind of lonely, and that's when Mummy came and woke me up.” George tousled his son's untidy hair with one hand, while tightening his dressing-gown around him with the other. He felt suddenly very cold and very small. But there was no hint of this in his voice when he spoke to Jeff.
“It's just a silly dream: you've eaten too much for supper. Forget all about it and go back to sleep, there's a good boy.”
“I will, Daddy,” Jeff replied. He paused for a moment, then added thoughtfully, “I think I'll try and go there again.”
“A blue sun?” said Karellen, not many hours later. “That must have made identification fairly easy.”
“Yes,” Rashaverak answered. “It is undoubtedly Alphanidon 2. The Sulphur Mountains confirm the fact. And it's interesting to notice the distortion of the time scale. The planet rotates fairly slowly, so he must have observed many hours in a few minutes.”
“That's all you can discover?”
“Yes, without questioning the child directly.”
“We dare not do that. Events must take their natural course without our interference. When his parents approach us—then, perhaps, we can question him.”
“They may never come to us. And when they do, it may be too late.”
“That, I am afraid, cannot be helped. We should never forget this fact—that in these matters our curiosity is of no importance. It is no more important, even, than the happiness of mankind.” His hand reached out to break the connection.
“Continue the surveillance, of course, and report all results to me. But do not interfere in any way.”
Yet when he was awake, Jeff still seemed just the same.
That at least, thought George, was something for which they could be thankful. But the dread was growing in his heart.
To Jeff it was only a game: it had not yet begun to frighten him. A dream was merely a dream, no matter how strange it might be. He was no longer lonely in the worlds that sleep opened up to him. Only on that first night
