The Players of Null-A

III NULL-ABSTRACTS

In order to be sane and adjusted as a human being, an individual must realize that he cannot know all there is to know. It is not enough to understand this limitation intellectually; the understanding must be an orderly and conditioned process, 'unconscious' as well as 'conscious'. Such a conditioning is essential to the balanced pursuit of knowledge of the nature of matter and life.

The hour seemed late, and Janasen was not yet recovered from the surprise of having been snatched from the offices of the Institute of Emigration. He had not suspected the presence of a transport machine in his own office. The Follower must have other agents in this planetary system. He looked around him cautiously. He was in a dimly lighted park area. A waterfall cascaded from some invisible height beyond a clump of trees. The plume of spray glittered in the vague light.

The Follower stood partly silhouetted against the spray, but his formless body seemed to merge with the greater darkness on every side. The silence grew long, and Janasen fidgeted, but he knew better than to speak first. At last the Follower stirred, and drifted several feet nearer.

'I had difficulty adjusting myself,' he said. 'These intricate energy problems have always annoyed me, since I am not mechanically minded.'

Janasen held his silence. He had not expected an explanation, and he did not feel qualified to interpret the one he had received. He waited.

'We must take a chance,' said the Follower. 'I have followed my present course because I wish to isolate Gosseyn from those who could help him and, if necessary, destroy him. The plan that I have agreed to pursue in support of Enro the Red cannot be interfered with by a person of unknown potentialities.'

In the darkness, Janasen shrugged. For a moment, then, he wondered at his own indifference. For a moment there was a bright thought in his mind that there was something supernormal about a man like himself. The thought passed. It didn't matter what chance he took, or what were the unknown potentialities of his opponents. He didn't care. 'I'm a tool,' he told himself with pride. I serve a shadow master.'

He laughed wildly. For he was intoxicated with his own ego, and the things that he did and felt and thought. Janasen he had called himself because it was as close as he could get to his real name. David Janasen.

The Follower spoke again. 'There are curious blurs,' he said, 'in the future of this man Gosseyn, but pictures do come through . . . though no Predictor can get them clearly. Yet I am sure that he will seek you out. Do not try to prevent him. He will find that your name was on the list of passengers of the President Hardie. He will wonder that he did not see you, but at least it will indicate to him that you are now on Venus. At this moment we are in a park in downtown New Chicago '

'Huh!' Janasen glanced around in astonishment. But there were only the trees and shadow-like shrubs, and the hiss of the waterfall. Here and there in the darkness weak lights cast their pale glow, but there was no sign of a city.

‘These Venusian cities,' said the Follower, 'have no parallel elsewhere in the galaxy. They are differently arranged, differently planned. Everything is free: food, transport, shelter —everything.'

'Well, that makes things simple.'

'Not quite. The Venusians have become aware of the existence of human beings on the planets of other stars. Having been invaded once they are likely to take precautions. However, you'll have a week or so, during which time Gosseyn should discover you.'

'And when he does?' Janasen was interested.

'Have him come to your apartment and give him this.'

The thing tumbled out of the darkness glittering, as it fell, like a white flickering flame. It lay on the grass shining like a mirror in sunlight.

'It won't seem so bright in daytime,' said the Follower. 'Remember, it must be given to him in your room. Now, any questions?'

Janasen reached down gingerly and picked up the glowing object. It seemed to be a plastic card of some kind. It felt smooth and glassy. There was printing on it, which was too small for him to read with the naked eye.

'What is he supposed to do with this?'

'Read the message.'

Janasen frowned. 'And what will happen?'

'It is not necessary for you to know that. Just carry out my instructions.'

Janasen pondered that, and then scowled. 'You said a little while ago that we must take a chance. It looks to me as if I'm the only one who is taking any chances.'

'My Friend,' said the Follower in a steely tone, 'I assure you, you are wrong. But let us have no arguments. Any more questions?'

Actually, he told himself, he had never worried the slightest bit. 'No,' said Janasen.

There was silence. Then the Follower began to fade. It was impossible for Janasen to decide just when that fade-out was complete. But presently he knew that he was alone.

Gosseyn looked down at the 'card', then up at Janasen. The calmness of the man interested him because it provided an insight into the other's character. Janasen was a solipsist who had struck a balance with his neurosis by developing a compensatory attitude value, since again and again it would depend on whether other stronger men would tolerate his insolence.

The setting of their face-to-face meeting was colorfully Venusian. They sat in a room that opened onto a patio, with young flowering shrubs just outside. It was a room with all conveniences including automatic delivery of food, automatic table cooking devices, which dispensed with the necessity of having a kitchen.

Gosseyn studied the hollow-cheeked man with hostile gaze. The task of finding Janasen had not been too involved. A few interplanetary messages—not obstructed this time, a quick canvassing of hotel roboregisters, and here was the end of the trail.

It was Janasen who spoke first. The system on this planet sort of interests me. I can't get used to the idea of free food.'

Gosseyn said curtly, 'You'd better start talking. What I do to you depends entirely on how much you tell me.'

The clear, blue, unafraid eyes stared at him thoughtfully. 'I'll tell you everything I know,' Janasen said at last with a shrug, 'but not because of your threats. I just don't bother keeping secrets either about myself or anyone else.'

Gosseyn was prepared to believe that. This agent of the Follower would be fortunate to survive another five years, but during that time he would maintain his self-respect. He made no comment, however, and presently Janasen began to talk. He described his relations with the Follower. He seemed to be quite candid. He had been in the secret service of the Greatest Empire, and somehow he must have come to the attention of the shadow-shape. He proceeded to give a word for word account of his conversations with the Follower about Gosseyn. In the end he broke off, and returned to his earlier statement.

‘The galaxy, ‘he said, ‘swarms with anarchistic ideas, but I’ve never before heard of them working. I’ve been trying to figure out how this non-artist…to…to——‘

'Call it Null-A,' said Gosseyn.

' this Null-A stuff operates, but it seems to depend on

people being sensible, and that I refuse to believe.'

Gosseyn said nothing more. For this was sanity itself that was being discussed, and that could not be explained with words alone. If Janasen was interested, let him go to the elementary schools. The other must have realized his mood, for he shrugged again.

'Read the card yet?' he asked.

Gosseyn did not answer immediately. It was chemically active but not harmfully so. He had the impression that it was an absorbing material. Still, it was a strange thing, obviously some development of galactic science, and he had no intention of being, rash with it. .

‘This Follower,' he said finally, 'actually predicted that I would go into that elevator about 9:28 a.m.'

It was hard to credit. Because the Follower was not of Earth, not of the solar system. Somewhere out in the far reaches of the galaxy, this being had turned his attention to Gilbert Gosseyn. And pictured him doing a particular thing at a particular time. That was what Janasen's account implied.

The intricacy of prophecy involved was staggering. It made the 'card' valuable. From where he sat he could see that there was print on it, but the words were unreadable. He leaned closer. Still the print was too small.

Janasen shoved a magnifying glass towards him. 'I had to get this so I could read it myself,' he said.

Gosseyn hesitated, but presently he picked up the card and examined it. He tried to think of it as a switch that might activate a larger mechanism. But what?

He looked around the room. At the moment of entering he had memorized the nearest electric sockets and traced live wires. Some ran to the table at which he sat, and supplied power to the built-in compact electronic cooking machine. Gosseyn looked up finally.

'You and I are going to stick together for a while, Mr. Janasen,' he said. 'I have an idea that you're going to be removed from Venus either by a ship or a Distorter transporter. I intend to go with you.'

Janasen's gaze was curious. 'Don't you think that might be dangerous?’

'Yes,' said Gosseyn with a smile. 'Yes, it might be.'

There was silence.

Gosseyn attuned the card to one of his memorized areas, and simultaneously, he made the action cue a simple fear-doubt. If the emotion of fear and doubt should enter his mind, the card would instantly be similarized out of the room. The precaution was not altogether adequate, but it seemed to him he had to take the chance. He focused his glass on the card, and read:

Gosseyn:

A Distorter has a fascinating quality. It is electrically powered, but shows no unusual characteristics even when it is on. Such an instrument is built into the table at which you are sitting. If you have read this far, you are now caught in the most intricate trap ever devised for one individual.

If the emotion of fear came, he did not recall it then or afterwards. For there was night.