Null–A Three

CHAPTER 17

As they went through the unlocked door, marked private, Enin said, “Looks like we’re meeting nothing but crumby people and going to nothing but crumby places:” The thought which the comment evoked in Gosseyn Three brought a smile to his lips; whereupon, after a small pause, he spoke the famous General Semantics concept:

“Enin, the map is not necessarily the territory; and, besides, you’ve got your maps slightly mixed. After all, we’ve just come from a meeting with the top government leader of this continent.”

There was a pause. Then: “Oh, him!” Another pause, followed by a frown, and the words: “What do you mean, map?”

“Later,” said Gosseyn, “I’ll explain.”

But with him, also, and, with or without the aid of General Semantics’ concepts, the living quarters he was looking at, did not evoke love at first sight.

The apartment, in which they found themselves, was large enough for their immediate purpose; but it had definitely not been well-kept. And it had, visibly, been stripped of some of its furniture.

There was only one place in the living room to sit down: a couch. No chairs were to be seen, and only one small table, and a cabinet phone.

In the kitchen there was a built-in breakfast nook, a built-in oven, and a large, built-in refrigerator. Missing from the surrounding built-in shelves were about three quarters of the dishes that must have been there at one time.

There were two bedrooms, one with a single, kingsized bed and the other with twin beds; but no other furniture. Built-in clothes closets were available in both bedrooms; so at least there would be a place to store any clothing they might acquire.

He was aware of Enin going into the smaller bedroom. So Gosseyn headed for the kitchen. In his initial search of the drawers there, he had noticed a pad and a pen. So now he sat down and began to make a list.

It was his first quiet moment since their arrival. Sitting there, he became aware of an odd sensation inside his head and body. Gosseyn paused, pen poised, frowning… What, what?—

Interruption: Enin’s voice reached to him from beyond the door: “Do you think he means it? Do you think he really going to do it?”

“Do what?”

His awareness of the strange internal feeling grew dim, as he called out the question, and followed it with another one:

“And who do you mean?”

“Mr. Blayney! Do you think he’ll really rebuild this place?”

Gosseyn finished writing the word “milk.” Then he laid the pen down. Stood up. And walked out to the living room. As he did so he realized he was experiencing a complexity of thoughts and awareness:

… Awareness that the strange sensation had been there all these minutes, maybe even hours, damped out by the demanding presence of Enin; thought about how to answer the boy’s question; vague consciousness of his alter ego, and all those realities—

He found Enin lying on the living room floor in what could essentially be called a twisted position. But the kid seemed at ease. Gosseyn walked over, and stood looking down at the emperor of all Dzan, and spoke again in General Semantics phraseology:

“The best answer I can give you is based on a generalized map I have inside me of the way governments work.”

“But you said the map is not the territory.” The boy’s eyes were bright.

The man was aware of himself smiling. “I meant the map is not necessarily the territory. And that’s particularly true when we’re dealing with the maps we have of the way the world is and the way people are in general. Here on earth, President Blayney has a lot of money at his disposal for public spending. One or more companies will do the re-building of the institute; and they’ll receive government aid to do it. What’s important about that is, it puts the builders on our side. So—”

At that moment the phone rang. Gosseyn walked over, lifted the receiver, and said, “Hello! Who are you calling?”

A man’s voice said, “This is the Daynbar Construction Company. We understand you have been authorized to rebuild the institute; and we’d like to send a team over to discuss the renovation.”

Gosseyn had his moment of awe, even though he had just predicted something basic like this. His instant deduction was that an associate of Blayney had contacted a builder who, presumably, at some later time would pay the informant for the information.

Since it was, for him, a positive development, his reply was within the frame of business courtesy: “When can your people get over here?”

It developed that their “team” would show up at 8 A.M. next day… all very normal, Gosseyn realized. But, somehow, not fast enough for the feeling of urgency that was—somehow—reaching into him from… somewhere.

After he had replaced the receiver, he grew aware that Enin was up and standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at him. But the boy said nothing. Whereupon Gosseyn commented: “I hope all this is not too boring for you.”

There was a pause, and then—of all things—a grin creased that youthful face. “I guess—” the boy said—“you’ve got some assumptions about me wanting to be back on that stupid ship with all those suck-ups.”

“More like, maybe you want to be back with your mother,” Gosseyn answered.

But even as he spoke, he was silently adjusting to Enin’s analysis. It was not wrong after all those boyish complaints; but he had to admit that the thought—belief in his mind had been that, to his Imperial Majesty of Dzan, a place like earth, with no one kowtowing was, well, crumby. And crumby in at least one of its meanings implied that whoever felt that way didn’t want to be here.

As that thought completed, Enin spoke again: “Things happen around you,” he said, “and you’re not a sissy. Just imagine—you let yourself be tied up back there, and you got rid of those gun carriers…” Pause. The boy’s eyes grew wider. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Where did you put those guys?”

Gosseyn smiled. Grimly. “On that ice world, where we were.”

“Boy!” Another pause. “You don’t think they’ll freeze?”

Gosseyn said, “They had on pretty regular clothes, and there’s only about a mile to go to that building; so I’m not worried.”

He thought for a moment. Then: “It’s the price I’m charging them for not being aware of the assumptions by which they operate.”

He concluded: “You remember, I gave them all a chance to think about it, and none of them bothered.” There was, if it were possible for a boy of twelve to have such an expression, a pensive look in Enin’s face. “Yeah,” he said then, “yeah.” He added, “It’s hard to picture us just sitting here while they re-build this place. Is there anything else coming up?”

It was a good question. The feeling inside Gosseyn of something probing at him, was stronger. And it was definitely time to determine what, if anything, was causing such a strange sensation in his head.

The phone rang again, instants after that purpose was born.

Enin’s voice came from off to one side: “Looks like another company w ants the job.”

Gosseyn, who was heading toward the phone, made no verbal reply. But he did have the thought-answer that, on this high government level, there would probably be no bidding for specific construction projects.

Any call having to do with rebuilding would have to be about another aspect of the task. And, of course, the truth was there would be many aspects.

However, moments later, as he spoke the same question—as before—into the receiver, there was a far more significant difference in the reply. The man’s voice at the other end of the line had a harsh quality, as it said, “Let me just make it very clear: if you don’t get off those premises by the end of this day, you’ll get hurt. That institute of stupidity is not going to be rebuilt!”

Gosseyn, who had automatically noted that the message, and the voice, were being recorded—automatically—by the cabinet machine, was able to recover from the unexpected threat in time to say, “Be sure to dress warmly from this moment on!”

There was actually a pause at the other end of the line. And then the same voice but with a baffled instead of a threatening tone, said, “What kind of nonsense is that?”

Bang! Down went the receiver at the other end.

“… On that call,” Gosseyn analyzed moments later, “I am inclined to deduce that it is the result of our caretaker advising someone who is willing to pay him for the information.”

Enin frowned. “I don’t get the assumption,” he said.

Gosseyn could not restrain a smile at the use of the General Semantics term—which was not entirely applicable. But all he said was, “My reasoning is that groups, or individuals, against re-educating the public would have a very inexpensive source of information about any projected activity on these premises, if they bribed the caretaker.”

“Yeah!” The boy spoke his agreement almost absently. He stood there with his lips drawn tight, as if in deep thought. Then he nodded. And said, “Now, what do we do?”

It was not a question that Gosseyn was able to answer immediately. His head was, figuratively, whirling.

There was accordingly no question. The most important event in his life at the moment was that sensation of something probing at his entire nervous system.