Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 65

NOTHING is certain! Around and around the little ball goes, and where it stops n.o.body knows. Only I've learned how to do it.'

'How to do what?'

'How to make the little ball stop where I want it to. Look.' He whipped out a penknife. 'When you cut yourself, you bleed, don't you? Or do you?'

He sliced at the forefinger of his left hand. 'See?' He held the finger close to the pickup; the cut though deep, was barely discernible and it was bleeding not at all.

Capital! thought Waldo. Hysteric vascular control - a perfect clinical case.

'Anybody can do that,' he said aloud. 'Show me a hard one.'

'Anybody? Certainly anybody can - if they know how. Try this one.' He jabbed the point of the penknife straight into the palm of his left hand, so that it stuck out the back of his hand. He wiggled the blade in the wound, withdrew it, and displayed the palm. No blood, and the incision was closing rapidly. 'Do you know why? The knife is only probably there, and I've found the improbability!'

Amusing as it had been, Waldo was beginning to be bored by it. 'Is that all?'

'There is no end to it,' p.r.o.nounced Rambeau, 'for nothing is certain any more. Watch this.' He held the knife flat on his palm, then turned his hand over.

The knife did not fall, but remained in contact with the underside of his hand.

Waldo was suddenly attentive. It might be a trick; it probably was a trick - but it impressed him more, much more, than Rambeau's failure to bleed when cut. One was common to certain types of psychosis; the other should not have happened. He cut in another vicwphonc circuit. 'Get me

Chief Engineer Stevens at North American Power-Air,' he said sharply.

'At once!'

Rambeau paid no attention, but continued to speak of the penknife. 'It does not know which way is down,' he crooned, 'for nothing is certain any more. Maybe it will fall - maybe not. I think it will. There - it has. Would you like to see me walk on the ceiling?'

'You called me, Mr Jones?' It was Stevens.

Waldo cut his audio circuit to Rambeau. 'Yes. That jumping jack, Rambeau.

Catch him and bring him to me at once. I want to see him.'

'But Mr Jo-'

'Move!' He cut Stevens off, and renewed the audio to Rambeau.

'-uncertainty. Chaos is King, and Magic is loose in the world!'

Rambeau looked vaguely at Waldo, brightened, and added, 'Good day,

Mr Jones. Thank you for calling.'

The screen went dead.

Waldo waited impatiently. The whole thing had been a hoax, he told himself.

Rambeau had played a gigantic practical joke. Waldo disliked practical jokes.

He put in another call for Stevens and left it in.

When Stevens did call back his hair was mussed and his face was red.

'We had a bad time of it,' he said.

'Did you get him?'

'Rambeau? Yes, finally.'

'Then bring him up.'

'To Freehold? But that's impossible. You don't understand. He's blown his top; he's crazy. They've taken him away to a hospital.'

'You a.s.sume too much,' Waldo said icily. 'I know he's crazy, but I meant what I said. Arrange it. Provide nurses. Sign affidavits. Use bribery. Bring him to me at once. It is necessary.~

'You really mean that?'

'I'm not in the habit of jesting.'

'Something to do with your investigations? He's in no shape to be useful to you, I can tell you that.'

'That,' p.r.o.nounced Waldo, 'is for me to decide.'

'Well,' said Stevens doubtfully, 'I'll try.'

'See that you succeed.'

Stevens called back thirty minutes later. 'I can't bring Rambeau.'

'You clumsy incompetent.'

Stevens turned red, but held his temper. 'Never mind the personalities.

He's gone.

He never got to the hospital.'

'What?'

'That's the crazy part about it. They took him away in a confining stretcher, laced up like a corset. I saw them fasten him in myself.

But when they got there he was gone. And the attendants claim the straps weren't even unbuckled.'

Waldo started to say, 'Preposterous,' thought better of it. Stevens went on.

'But that's not the half of it. I'd sure like to talk to him myself.

I've been looking around his lab. You know that set of deKalbs that went nuts -. the ones that were hexed?'