Gradually he became aware of a sound which perhaps had been there all along, but had gone unnoticed. It was the thin, needle-like tinkling of tiny bells. This he heard not with his ears, but inside his head and on the surface of his skin. And hearing it now, in this way, turned his blood to ice water in his veins. For up to this moment it was a sound heard only in his dreams.
With an effort he raised his hands and clamped them over his ears and screamed with every fiber of will left in him. Then he toppled insensible to the floor.
5
… HERE HE IS.' THE flashlight beam played over the slumped figure on the floor. 'Passed out.'
'I'll get the lights,' said a second, slightly higher pitched voice.
'No, leave them off. He might wake up,' replied the first. 'What shall we do with him? We can't just leave him on the floor…'
'Why not? We can come back later.' 'He might remember.'
'Right. Let's put him in the sleep lab.'
'Good idea. Hook up the scanner, too. That way he won't be sure. Even if he remembers he won't be sure.'
'I'll take his feet. Careful, don't wake him up.'
T o SPENCE I T SEE M E D as if his mind returned like a rock dropped into a lake. He felt his awareness returning, falling slowly through the void of darkness, while he himself waited floating to receive it.
The floating sensation continued for some time. When he tried to move his head he was overcome by a powerful dizziness and the feeling that he was falling in slow motion into a vast, bottomless pit.
So he lay motionless and tried to collect the fragments of his thoughts-what was left of them. He remembered talking to Dr. Lloyd and then returning to the lab. That was all-only darkness after that. And yet there must be something more. For here he was, if his guess was correct, in the sleep lab lying on the scanner's cav couch. How he had gotten there he could not say.
From the control room he heard the soft chime of the session clock. Then Tickler's voice sounded over the speaker, drifting down from above like snow. 'The session is terminated, Dr. Reston. Shall I bring up the lights?'
'Yes,' he heard himself say, 'bring up the lights.'
The overhead panels began to glow, faintly at first but steadily until he could make out the ordinary cylindrical dimensions of the room. He sat up slowly as the last waves of dizziness rolled over him. He gripped the sides of the cav couch and started awkwardly to his feet, aware that Tickler was watching him closely from the control booth.
He felt a tug and realized that he was wearing the scanning cap. He slipped it off and tossed it back onto the couch in the depression his head had made, and then moved slowly, as in a dream, toward the booth.
'Good scan this session, doctor,' Tickler said happily. 'Bring it to me after breakfast.' Spence shook his head groggily. 'Anything wrong?'
'No. I, uh, didn't sleep very well, that's all.'
'You remember, of course, that you have scheduled to inter view cadets for the assistantships today.'
'Tickler, do we really need an assistant? I mean, the project is just myself and you. It isn't as if we were in HiEn-those guys want thirty people for every experiment.'
'Each department is required to take a cadet.'
'Well, couldn't Simmons take an extra one? I don't really see where we need to…'
'BioPsych is a small department, yes,' Tickler sniffed. 'But it will hardly expand if those of us in a position to encourage the interest of bright young minds fail to take full advantage of the assistantship program.'
Spence hated Tickler's testimonials; so to prevent further aggravation he replied as evenly as he knew how, 'You are right, of course. In fact, I think it would be a good idea for you to interview the cadets yourself.'
'Me? But, Dr. Reston, I-'
'I don't see why not. You have a good feel for that sort of thing. I will, however, want to approve your choice. When you've found the right candidate for the job, bring him to me.'
Spence ducked quickly out of the control booth, bringing an end to the matter. He stepped into the corridor and began threading his way to the commissary. Once free from Tickler's annoying presence his mind returned to the mysterious problem of his blackout.
In the jumble of the crowded cafeteria he found seclusion to properly mull it over in his mind. Noise, considered Spence, was just as good an insulator as perfect quiet. Maybe better. With a proper level of random sound the mind turned naturally inward, completely shutting out the rest of the world.
The clash and clatter of trays and utensils, the din of voices, and the unrelenting drone of insipid background music which filled the busy commissary raised the noise factor to the perfect volume for contemplation. With his tray of scrambled eggs, grapefruit, and coffee he made his way to an empty table in the corner past others dining on an assortment of foods. He saw spaghetti, roast beef, tomato cups, chicken salad, pancakes, omelets, and hot dogs-breakfast, lunch, and dinner served simultaneously to accommodate the schedules of various shifts. The sight of roast beef and gravy sitting next to scrambled eggs and toast always threw him; it did not look right somehow.
Spence chewed thoughtfully and at the end of his meal was no closer to an answer than before. The missing hours were simply gone. Ten hours-maybe twelve-could not be accounted for. Not by his own memory, at any rate. He gulped the last of his tepid coffee and determined to check the scan in the lab-the scan tape would show a moment-by-moment account of his mental whereabouts on its four red wavy lines.
He entered the lab and saw that Tickler had gone. He went to the control booth and found the spool where Tickler had left it, duly cataloged and ready for filing after his inspection.
Spence snapped the seal and unrolled the strip to the beginning, watching the yards and yards of wavy lines unravel through his fingers. At the start of the tape he saw the date and time notation: EST 5/15/42 10:17 GM. The scan continued for nine-and-aquarter hours without interruption. Each peak and valley, every blip of an alpha spark or beta flash was duly recorded. He saw the even, rhythmic progress of his night's sleep. His presence was accounted for.
But what about before the scan? Where had he been? What had he done? Why couldn't he remember?
Spence rolled up the tape and resealed the spool. He had to get out of the lab and think-or not think. He decided on Central Park. …
THE HUMIDITY INCREASED NOTICEABLY as he approached the concourse entrance to the park. It was only when he smelled the slightly musty fragrance of the garden's atmosphere that he realized how flat was the carefully controlled and filtered air of the rest of the center.
He stepped down onto the turf and threw a hand up to protect his eyes from the dazzling brightness which engulfed him instantly. The solar shields, those immense louvered slats which could be opened or closed to regulate the amount of light allowed in upon the garden, were open wide in an approximation of high noon. Spence stood blinking for some moments until his eyes became used to the brilliant light, then struck along one of the many meandering pathways. He followed the path toward the center of the garden and the greensward, hoping to find an empty bench in one of the secluded nooks formed by the trees and hedges which were landscaped to provide privacy.
A quick survey of the perimeter showed that all the benches were taken, mostly by young women soaking up the sun's beneficial rays. He had just about completed the circuit when he stopped in front of the last bench. It, too, was occupied. He was about to turn away when he realized he knew the owner of the upturned face and closed eyes.
'Mind if I sit down?' he asked. The blue eyes fluttered open and a hand rose to shade them.
'Oh, Dr. Reston-Spence, I mean. Please, do sit down. I'm taking up far more than my fair share of space.'
He sat down at the extreme end of the bench and looked at the young lady, realizing that he had nothing at all to say to her. He smiled. She smiled back.
