Four for Tomorrow Part 15

Finally, he was coughing and breathing fire and gasp- ing and crying out, and he thought of her lying there in her bunker, the ironic strains of Unger's song during their Dart-flight recurring in his mind: "1 was down to Saint James Inftr-r-rmary.

I saw my ba-a-aby there, 120.

Stretched out on a long whi-i-ite ta-a-dble- So sweet, so cold, so fair . . ."

Had Unger been consciously contemplating her murder even then? he wondered. Or was it something lurking below his consciousness? Something he had felt stirring, ' so that he had wanted Moore to stay with him-to keep it from happening?

He would never know, he realized, as the fires reached into his skull and consumed his brain.

As he awoke, feeling very weak upon white linen, the voice within his earphones was saying to Alvin Moore: ". . . .Let that be a lesson to you."

90 Moore tore off the earphones with what he thought was a strong gesture, but his muscles responded weakly. Still, the earphones came off.

He opened his eyes and stared.

He might be in the Set's Sick Ward, located high up in the Hall of Sleep, or in h.e.l.l. Franz Andrews, the attor- ney who had advised him to plead guilty, sat at his bed- side.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Oh, great! Care to play a set of tennis?"

The man smiled faintly.

"You have successfully discharged your debt to soci- ety," he stated, "through the symbolic penalty proce- dure."

"Oh, that explains everything," said Moore wryly. Fi- nally: "I don't see why there had to be any penalty, sym- bolic or otherwise. That rhymer murdered my wife."

"He'll pay for it," said Andrews.

Moore rolled onto his side and studied the dispa.s.sion- ate, flat-featured face at his elbow. The attorney's short hair was. somewhere between blond and gray and his gaze unflinchingly sober.

121.

"Do you mind repeating what you Just said?"

"Not at all. I said he'd pay for it."

"He's not dead!"

"No, he's quite alive-two floors above us. His head has to heal before he can stand trial. He's too ill to face exe- cution."

"He's alive!" said Moore. "Alive? Then what the h.e.l.l was I executed for?"

"Well, you did Mil the man," said Andrews, somewhat annoyed. "The fact that the doctors were later able to re- vive him does not alter the fact that a homicide occurred.

The symbolic penalty exists for all such cases. You'll think twice before ever doing it again."

Moore tried to rise. He failed.

"Take it easy. You're going to need several more days of rest before you can get up. Your own revival was only last night."

Moore chuckled weakly. Then he laughed for a long, long time. He stopped, ending with a little sob.

"Feel better now?"

91 "Sure, sure," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "Like a million bucks, or whatever the crazy currency is these days.

What kind of execution will Unger get for murder?"

"Gas," said the attorney, "the same as you, if the al- leged-"

"Symbolic, or for keeps?"

"Symbolic, of course."

Moore did not remember what happened next, except that he heard someone screaming and there was sud- denly a medic whom he had not noticed doing something to his arm. He heard the soft hiss of an injection. Then he slept.

When he awakened he felt stronger and he noticed an insolent bar of sunlight streaking the wall opposite him.

Andrews appeared not to have moved from his side.

He stared at the man and said nothing.

122.

"I have been advised," said the attorney, "of your lack of knowledge concerning the present state of law in these matters. I did not stop to consider the length of your membership in the Set. These things so seldom occur-in fact, this is the first such case I've ever handled-that I simply a.s.sumed you knew what a symbolic penalty was when I spoke with you back in your cell. I apologize."

Moore nodded.

"Also," he continued, "I a.s.sumed that you had consid- ered the circ.u.mstances under which Mister Unger al- legedly committed a homicide-"

"'Allegedly,' h.e.l.l! I was there. He drove a stake through her heart!" Moore's voice broke at that point.

"It was to have been a precedent-making decision,"

said Andrews, "as to whether he was to be indicated now for attempted homicide, or be detained until after the operation and face homicide charges if things do not go well. The matter of his detention then would have raised many more problems-which were fortunately resolved at his own suggestion. After his recovery he will retire to his bunker and remain there until the nature of the ,of- fense had been properly determined. He has volunteered to do this of his own free will, so no legal decision was delivered on the matter. His trial is postponed, therefore, until some of the surgical techniques have been refined-"

"What surgical techniques?" asked Moore, raising him- self into a seated position and leaning against the head- board. His mind was fully alert for the first time since Christmas. He felt what was coming next.

He said one word.

"Explain."

Andrews shifted in his chair.

92 "Mister Unger," he began, "had a poet's conception as to the exact location of the human heart. He did not pierce it centrally, although the accidental angling of the stake did cause it to pa.s.s through the left ventricle. -That 123.

can be repaired easily enough, according to the medics.

"Unfortunately, however, the slanting of the shaft caused it to strike against her spinal column," he said, "smashing two vertebrae and cracking several others. It appears that the spinal cord was severed. . . ."

Moore was numb again, numb with the realization that had dawned as the lawyer's words were filling the air be- tween them. Of course she wasn't dead. Neither was she alive. She was sleeping the cold sleep. The spark of life would remain within her until the arousal began. Then, and only then, could she die. Unless- ". . . Complicated by her pregnancy and the period of time necessary to raise her body temperature to an operable one," Andrews was saying.

"When are they going to operate?" Moore broke in.

"They can't say for certain, at this time," answered Andrews. "It will have to be a specially designed opera- tion, as it raises problems for which there are answers in theory but not in practice. Any one of the factors could be treated at present, but the others couldn't be held in abeyance while the surgery is going on. Together, they are rather formidable-to repair the heart and fix the back, and to save the child, all at the same time, will re- quire some new instrumentation and some new tech- niques."

"How long?" insisted Moore.

Andrews shrugged.

"They can't say. Months, years. She's all right as she is now, but-"

Moore asked him to go away, rather loudly, and he did.

The following day, feeling dizzy, he got to his feet and refused to return to bed until he could see Unger.

"He's in custody," said the medic who attended him.

"No he isn't," replied Moore. "You're not a lawyer, and 124.

I've already spoken with one. He won't be taken into legal custody until after he awakens from his next cold sleep-whenever that is."

It took over an hour for him to get permission to visit Unger. When he did, he was accompanied by Andrews and two orderlies.

93 "Don't you trust the symbolic penalty?" he smirked at Andrews. "You know that I'm supposed to think twice before I do it again."

Andrews looked away and did not answer him.

"Anyhow, I'm too weak and I don't have a hammer handy."

They knocked and entered.

Unger, his head turbaned in white, sat propped up by pillows. A closed book lay on the counterpane. He had been staring out of the window and into the garden. He turned his head toward them.

"Good morning, you son of a b.i.t.c.h," observed Moore.

"Please," said Unger.

Moore did not know what to say next. He had already expressed all that he felt. So he headed for the chair be- side the bed and sat on it. He fished his pipe from the pocket of his robe and fumbled with it to hide his dis- comfort. Then he realized he had no tobacco with him.

Neither Andrews nor the orderlies appeared to be watch- ing them.

He placed the dry pipe between his teeth and looked up; , "

"I'm sorry," said Unger. "Can you believe that?"

"No," answered Moore.

"She's the future and she's yours," said Unger. "I drove a stake through her heart but she isn't really dead. They say they're working on the operating machines now. The doctors will fix up everything that I did, as good as new."

He winced and looked down at the bedclothes.

125.

"If it's any consolation to you," he continued, "I'm suf- fering and I'll suffer more. There is no Senta to save this Dutchman. I'm going to ride it out with the Set, or with- out it, in a bunker-die in some foreign place among strangers." He looked up, regarding Moore with a weak smile. Moore stared him back down. "They'll save her!"

he insisted. "She'll sleep until they're absolutely certain of the technique. Then you two will get off together and I'll keep on going. You'll never see me after that. I wish you happiness. I won't ask your forgiveness."

Moore got to his feet.

'"We've got nothing left to say. We'll talk again some year, in a day or so."

He left the room wondering what else he could have said.

"An ethical question has been put before the Set-that 94 is to say, myself," said Mary Maude. "Unfortunately, it was posed by government attornies, so it cannot be treated as most ethical questions are to be treated. It re- quires an answer."

"Involving Moore and Unger?" asked Andrews.

"Not directly. Involving the entire Set, as a result of their escapade."

She indicated the fac-sheet on her desk. Andrews nod- ded.

" 'Unto Us a Babe is Born,'" she read, considering the photo of the prostrate Setman in the church. "A front- page editorial in this periodical has accused us of creating all varieties of neurotics-from necrophilists on down the line. Then there's that other photo-we still don't know who took it-here, on page three-"

"I've seen it."

"They now want a.s.surances that ex-Setmen will re- main frivolous and not turn into eminent undesirables."

126.

"This is the first time it's ever happened-like this."

"Of course," she smiled, "they're usually decent enough to wait a few weeks before going anti-social-and wealth generally compensates for most normal maladjustments.

But, according to the accusations, we are either selecting the wrong people-which is ridiculous-or not mustering them out properly when they leave-which is profoundly ridiculous. First, because I do all the interviewing, and second, because you can't boot a person half a century or so into the future and expect him to land on his feet as his normal, cheerful self, regardless of any orientation you may give him. Our people make a good show of it, though, because they don't generally do much of any- thing.

"But both Moore and Unger were reasonably normal, and they never knew each other particularly well. Both watched a little more closely than most Setmen as their worlds became history, and both were highly sensitive to those changes. Their problem, though, was interpersonal."

Andrews said nothing.

"By that, I mean it was a simple case of jealousy over a woman-an unpredictable human variable. I could not have foreseen their conflict. The changing times have nothing to do with it. Do they?"

Andrews did not answer.

". . . Therefore, there is no problem," she continued.

"We are not dumping Kaspar Hausers onto the street.