"She is immune to radiation!" Zen thought after Nedra had left to rejoin her unit. This in itself was of sufficient importance to attract and hold the interest of the top military and scientific minds. Perhaps soldiers could also be immunized. Perhaps, by some impossible freak of chance, a way might be found for workers to return to abandoned factories, to long-closed shops and forges. This might mean a new flow of goods and materials to troops that were desperately short of them and to a civilian population that, at a conservative estimate, was more than half starved.
A human being who had achieved immunity to radiation was important enough to command his complete attention. Also, the probability was very great that she was one of the mysterious new people. Something else about her interested him even more. He could not put his finger on this something else but he suspected it had to do with the future, with another world than the one he knew. Or with another universe. Again the memory of his contact with the race mind flicked through his consciousness.
Now he knew what he was going to do insofar as Nedra was concerned. He had a hunch what her next move would be. He would wait for her to make it.
Finding a carbine was not difficult. On this trail, the weapons were to be had for picking them up. A dead man's ammunition pouches were filled with cartridges. He took the pouches. Carrying the carbine, he slid down the bank toward the mountain stream that talked to itself at the bottom of the canyon. The water was clear and cool but dead trout floating in it warned him not to drink.
Seeking a place from which he could watch the canyon, he moved upward. A dim trail was visible through the pines here.
"An old narrow-gauge railroad," he thought. The rails had been removed long since, the ties had rotted away, and the roadbed itself was hardly a trail through the growth of trees. He had barely settled himself in a spot from which to watch the ravine below, than a stone turned on the old roadbed.
Nedra was coming along the trail.
He let her pass without challenge. Sliding out of hiding, he followed her.
Twisting and turning, the trail climbed slowly upward. When it reached the edge of the timber, Zen caught a glimpse of a slide of yellow rock far ahead, an old mine dump, which told him why the road had been constructed in the first place. A ghost town was probably ahead.
He caught a glimpse of Nedra moving steadily ahead along the old road bed.
"If she doesn't know exactly where she is going, then I'm missing my guess," he thought, as he followed her. Elation was rising in him. She was leading him straight to the hiding place of the new people.
Here in these mountains a small group could remain in hiding forever. Food might eventually become a problem, but there was plenty of game in the ranges: deer, elk, and bear, and some of the high valleys had been in cultivation before the war. A few hardy pioneers had always managed to find a living in this wilderness. If they could do it, so could this new group.
Of course, they would have to evade Cuso's roving patrols, raiding for food, supplies and women. But that ought not to be too difficult. The ghost town was in sight.
Surrounding an old mine, a crusher, and a concentrator, the ghost town was also in ruins. Unlike so many small cities, the ruin here had not come from attack but from nature. The snows of winter had piled their burden on flimsy roofs, the seepage of spring had rotted the timbers, with the result that many of the houses had simply collapsed. Weeds grew in the doorways and scrub cedars had found roots in the streets.
Nedra was walking down the middle of what had once been the main street. Her stride was still certain and she seemed to know exactly where she was going.
The ragged man appeared in the door of the garage on her left. He spoke to the nurse, calling to her. She jumped at the sound of the voice, glanced at the man, then continued walking.
"Hey, wait a minute, cutie!" the fellow shouted, loud enough for Zen to hear him. He lunged out of the doorway toward her. She turned to face him.
Kurt Zen lifted the carbine, then dropped the muzzle. He not only had great confidence in Nedra's ability to protect herself, but he wanted to see what would happen.
The loop of rope, thrown with all the skill of a cowboy, came from the opposite side of the street. It settled over her shoulders, pinned her arms to the side, and was instantly jerked tight. She was pulled to the ground.
The man who had lunged out of the doorway of the garage leaped toward her. Throwing her on her stomach, face down, he jerked both hands behind her back, then began to search her for a weapon.
The man who had thrown the rope came out of hiding to help his companion. He was short, with bow legs.
Together, they held the nurse down.
Zen raised the carbine to his shoulders. Although he had not previously fired this weapon, at this distance he could not miss.
Her scream came to his ears.
"Colonel! Watch out!"
In startled surprise, he slid the carbine from his shoulder. She had known he was following her and that he was somewhere near! Thoughts like startled hornets flicked through his consciousness. How had she known he was following her? Why had she let him do it? More important, where was she leading him? Most important of all, why was she trying to save him when her own life was in danger?
Even if she had known he was following her, obviously she hadn't known these men were here. She hadn't been coming to meet them. Then what was her purpose in climbing to this old ghost town which lay just at timberline on the edge of a mountain wilderness where Cuso was held at bay?
The first ruffian was standing erect. Zen brought the sights of the carbine to bear on the center of his ragged coat.
"Drop the gun!" a voice said behind him.
Even more surprising than the command was the fact that he knew the voice that had spoken. Or he thought he did. He let the carbine slide from his fingers.
"Now get 'em up."
He raised his hands. "Hello, Jake," he called out.
An exclamation of surprise came from behind him. "How the hell did you know me?"
"Recognized your voice," Zen answered. "Can I turn around now?"
"Sure. Sure. But what the hell are you doing up here?"
Turning, Zen saw the automatic rifle that covered him. The muzzle was wavering and the man who held it seemed confused. His face was covered with a heavy growth of black whiskers and long hair peeped out from under a battered helmet.
"Jake, it's really good to see you again." As if such things as automatic rifles did not exist, Zen advanced with outstretched hand.
"Kurt Zen! I haven't seen you since—since—"
"The night that Denver got it," Zen answered. Horror overwhelmed him as he remembered what had happened to the Mile-High city. A bomb had struck from the sky that night and parts of Denver had gone much higher than a mile.
"Yeah. That's it. Yeah. I thought you had got it that night, Kurt."
"I thought the same thing about you. What are you doing up here? And what—what happened to Marcia?"
The instant Zen asked the question, he wished he had kept still. At the name something happened in the man's eyes. They began to change, going from comprehension to blankness, then coming back to understanding, then losing that and going back to blankness. One instant the eyes looked at Zen and the man remembered and liked this colonel. The next instant, neither the eyes nor the mind behind them knew him. Zen was then an alien, a stranger, to be distrusted and feared and possibly destroyed. When Zen had known him in Denver, Jake had been a young airman. He and Marcia had been newly married and very much in love with each other.
"She—she—" The voice was choked and tight with pain. "The radiation got her." For an instant, the memory held true. But there was too much pain in the memory for this man to face it. The memory went away. Only the pain remained. "Marcia? Oh, she's fine. The next leave I get, we're going to have a second honeymoon." A glow appeared in the man's eyes. "I can see her now, waiting for me. You must go with me, Kurt, and meet her again, the next leave I get."
Zen could have slugged him. He could have lifted the rifle out of Jake's hands without protest. Instead, he did nothing. The man's pain was much too real to hurt him further.
"What's going on here?" a rough voice said.
It was the man in the ragged coat. Nedra and the man who had thrown the rope had disappeared. There was no indication where they had gone. This man's beard was thin and ragged. He had teeth like the fangs of a wolf but the lights in his eyes did not shift. Instead, they remained fixed in constant hostility and suspicion. He had a sub-machine gun in his hands. The muzzle covered Zen.
"Oh, hello, Cal. I—" Jake became confused. "This is an old buddy of mine. I knew him down below ... I knew him when.... He's all right."
Cal's eyes said he did not believe a word he had heard. He looked Zen up and down. The muzzle of the gun did not waver from the intelligence agent's stomach. "What are you doing up here?"
"Maybe I got tired of the way things are down there," Zen answered. He was not lying. Hewastired of the way things were going. So were uncounted millions of others.
Cal's eyes indicated he did not believe this. Zen could see him turning over different possibilities in his mind. He was inclined to use the gun. Dumping another body down the gorge would be an easy solution to the problem of an intruder. "How are things going down there?" he asked.
"Tough," Zen said, with conviction in his voice.
"What was the big boom over that way this morning?"
"Cuso letting go with a blooper."
Interest kindled in Cal's eyes. "What was over there that was worth the cost of a blooper?"
"A column of troops heading for Cuso's lair," Zen answered. "He didn't like it."
"I guess he wouldn't," Cal said. "You with 'em?"
"I was."
"Which way are they going now?"
"Back down hill to die," Zen answered.
"Why didn't you go with 'em?"
"I got tired," Zen said. He waved his hands in a gesture which was intended to explain how a man sometimes got tired and went off to rest for a while. Cal grunted. This he understood.
"Are you hot?" he asked.
"Nope. The medics checked me just before I took off."
"And are there others down there who feel like heading for the hills?"
"Most of them are too damned near dead to make the effort. Why desert when you've had it?"
"The blooper got a lot of 'em, eh?"
"What the blast didn't get, the radioactivity did."
"Is the pass too hot for more troops to go through it?"
"My guess is that way."
"Your guess? Don't you know?"
"I didn't go up to see. I'm not that soft in the head."
"I see your point. Well, things must be really rough if colonels are deserting. This is interesting." Cal fingered the gun but the muzzle no longer pointed at Zen's stomach. "What are you looking for up here?"
"A place to hide out."
"For how long?"
"Hell, how long can this go on?" Zen answered. "Even when it's over, I don't want to go back down there and walk on skulls."
"Walk on skulls?"
"That's all that will be left."
"You think the Asians are gonna win, then?"
"I got a hunch there will be more skulls than anything else in Asia, too. No, I don't think they're going to win. I don't think anybody is going to win this one, except the people who have enough sense to hide."
Jake came out of his dreaming and put his hand on Cal's shoulder. "Kurt's all right," he said.
It was obvious that Cal did not think very highly of this recommendation.
"He's my pal," Jake continued. "Let him join us. He'll make a good hand. Besides, me and him were buddies. And there was a girl—" He stopped speaking and broke into dark musing as the memory of his wife came again into his mind.
"Were you with this woman?" Cal asked.
"He never was with this woman in his life!" Jake screamed. "She was mine, I tell you. Mine!"
"Shut up, crazy head."
"Tell him, Kurt. Tell him Marcia was mine."
"Sure, Jake," Zen soothed. "Everybody knew you and Marcia were that way. Cal and I were talking about another woman."
"Oh. That's different. But I don't want to hear either of you say that Marcia didn't belong to me."
The wolf-faced man looked as if he was about to use his gun on Jake. "You stinking nut head, you stay out of this!"
"All I was trying to do was to tell you Kurt was my pal."
"All right, you've told me. Now shut up." Cal turned to Zen again. "About this woman, colonel? Were you together?"
"No," Zen said.
"But she yelled out to you when me and Ed grabbed her."
"I heard her."
"You did?" Cal's finger went around the trigger of the gun.
"Yeah. I was following her but I didn't know she knew it until she yelled."
"Oh." Cal kept his finger on the trigger. "Why were you following her?"
"Hell, don't be stupid!" Zen exploded. "Why would any man follow a woman like that?"
A trace of a grin went across the wolf face at this answer. Cal licked his lips. This was an answer he understood. "I don't blame you for that. But why was she coming up here?"
"That I don't know," Zen said. "I don't think it made much difference anyhow. As soon as night came—" He squinted at the sun.
"Do you think she might be a spy for Cuso heading for his camp to report?"
Zen felt his lower jaw sag. This was a thought that had not crossed his mind. He knew only too well that the Asiatic had spies in as many places as he could get them. Cuso's survival depended in a large degree on knowing how many troops were moving against him, how they were armed and over what passes they were coming.
"I see by your face that you had never thought of that," Cal said. "Then what is she doing up here?"
"I don't know. I realized she was ahead of me about a mile back. As to what she is doing, maybe she got tired of all that down there too, and decided to come up here and live in the mountains?"
"A woman in this wilderness?"
"Some women have delusions that they can return to the primitive and make a go of it."
"And maybe she had some other idea," Cal said.
Zen shrugged.
"Knowing this may be important to us," Cal said.
"Then we had better go ask her," Zen said. He was still shocked at the thought that Nedra might be a spy. Up until now, he had thought he was shockproof.
"You want to ask her?" Cal said.
"Sure."
"Okay, you do the asking. I'll listen. And don't get any funny ideas." His finger curled around the trigger of the gun. "Remember, that if a patrol should come looking for a deserter, they would only be going to shoot him. I would be doing them a favor if I shot him in advance."
"I covered my tracks," Zen said. "Nobody will be looking for me."
"How did you do it?"
"I traded dog tags with a hunk of meat that had once been a GI. There wasn't enough left of him to tell for sure what he was. The burial detail will clip my tags from his body and another colonel will be listed as killed in action. The GI will be listed as missing."
"That was smart," Cal said, approvingly. For the first time, Zen thought he detected a note of admiration in the voice tones of the ragged man.
Nedra was leaning against what had once been a work-bench in the garage. Her helmet was off, her hair was ruffled, and her tunic had been almost torn from her body. A look of pure gratitude appeared on her face when Zen stepped through the doorway. A little cry of gladness on her lips, she started toward him. Her eyes said she had never been as happy to see anybody in her life as she was to see this tall, lean colonel.
With her was the little bow-legged man. He didn't look happy as Zen entered. "Stand still," he snarled at the girl. "Who the hell are you?"
At his words, Nedra let her body sag back against the bench.
"Ed, this is Kurt," Cal said. "He's joining us."
The look in Ed's eyes was pure venom. "He may join us but he won't last long. This woman is mine. I saw her first."
Zen wished fervently that he had the carbine back in his possession. Some vermin did not deserve to live. But Jake had that weapon. While he could probably take the carbine away from Jake, the gun in Cal's hands was very steady.
"She's not mine, you know," he said to Ed. "So far as I am concerned, you are welcome to her."
"Oh, that's different," Ed said, relieved.
If Zen's words relieved Ed, they had the opposite effect on Nedra. She opened her mouth to speak to him, then closed it in an apparent effort to bite off words that no lady should use.
Cal laughed. "Ed is mighty touchy about his women. But don't let that stop you. Ask her what she is doing up here?"
"None of your damned business, either of you," Nedra answered.
Zen shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture which said that he hoped Cal would see how it was. Cal nodded. "We'll find out later." His manner indicated there was no question in his mind that he would find out what he wanted to know. "Right now it's time for chow. Jake, get on the job."
Jake turned and walked across the street to another house. Cal bringing up the rear, the others followed Jake. Ed took hold of Nedra's arm and escorted her across the street. Seeing this, Kurt Zen again wished that he had a gun.
The meal was beef stew, which Jake prepared in a big pot on an old wood-burning range. They all ate around the kitchen table.
"There are lots of wild cattle up here," Cal explained. "This used to be good range country, you know. The remnants of the old beef herds are still in existence, the ones that have learned how to dodge or whip the lions, that is."
Zen was busy watching Nedra and Ed. The little bantam was following every move she made and was keeping as close to her as possible. He insisted on sitting next to her at the table and he kept trying to touch her at every opportunity.
Zen kept silent. Inwardly, he was greatly perturbed. Night was already throwing shadows over the mountains. What would happen after darkness fell? Trying to keep such thoughts out of his mind, he found himself wondering if it would be possible for him to break the bantam's neck with his bare hands. He decided he could do this, and that he would like to do it, but that he would also like to stay alive afterward.
"Girls who go walking in the mountains have to take what happens to them," he said.
Nedra ignored him. Ed glowered at him. Cal chuckled but continued eating without speaking. Jake ate as if he did not know what he was doing or where he was. Occasionally he looked toward the northwest and shook his fist in that direction. Zen knew that deep in his sick mind Jake was dreaming of what he would do to the Asians. Remembering Marcia, Zen did not blame him.
Ed tried to urge the nurse toward the dilapidated sofa in the room but she eluded him and sat on an empty powder can, to the obvious disgust of the bantam. Two people could not sit on the same powder can. Jake rattled dishes in the kitchen, and fought imaginary Asians. Cal found a seat in the corner, a position from which he could watch everyone in the room. Off in the night an owl hooted.
Ed jumped at the sound, grabbed Nedra's hand, and tried to drag her toward a ladder that led to some kind of an attic. Cal rose to his feet and moved toward the door.
"Stop it!" Nedra said, to Ed.
"But, honey, you've got to get out of here," Ed urged. The bantam was at the edge of panic.
"Why?"
"Because that owl hoot was a signal. The guys who are coming will take you away from me," Ed explained.
"Fine," Nedra said, her face brightening. "There is justice in the world after all. The good Lord does look after the poor working girl." Her voice indicated that she had begun to doubt this.
"But you don't know who these guys are," Ed protested.
"I don't care who they are. Satan himself would be welcome to me right now." The words were addressed to Ed but she was looking at Kurt Zen as she spoke. Zen did not attempt to answer her implied accusation.
"Damn it, I ain't going to let them take you away from me!" Ed shouted. Again he reached for the nurse's hand, to drag her toward the ladder. She slugged him in the mouth.
In a fury, his fists clenched, the bantam started toward her. She dodged behind Zen.
"Lay off her, Ed," Cal ordered.
"But she belongs to me!" Ed shouted. "You know I saw her first. You said so yourself!" The little man was beside himself with frustration and fury.
"If the lieutenant decides he wants her, you'll probably be the first one dead," the ragged man commented. Then he shrugged. "However, it's your funeral, not mine. Only you probably won't get a funeral."
Again the owl hoot sounded, just outside the house this time. Cal opened the door. A lieutenant and four soldiers entered. Zen took one look at the dirty uniforms and the slant eyes in dirty yellow faces and knew that these were Cuso's men. Coming into the room, the lieutenant took command.
"Who is this?" he demanded, nodding curtly toward Zen. He had not as yet noticed Nedra, who was still behind Kurt.
"A colonel who has seen the light of reason and has come over to our side," the ragged man promptly answered.
"Good. Cuso will be very glad to talk to him." The grin on the lieutenant's face left no doubt as to the meaning that lay back of his words. Cuso's methods of extracting information from any person careless enough to fall into his hands were well known.
"It will be a privilege to talk to the great leader of the Asian forces," Zen said. He felt sweat begin to appear under both arms. As soon as the lieutenant had appeared, he had known that Cal was a spy supplying information to Cuso.
"I'm sure Cuso will find it so," the lieutenant said. The grin vanished from his face as he caught a glimpse of Nedra behind the colonel. The rifle in his hands came up. "Who is that?" he demanded.
"A nurse who has also joined us," Cal hastily explained.
"What's she doing behind him?"
"Ed was urging her to go upstairs with him and she hid behind this man," Cal explained. A tic had appeared in the right cheek of the ragged man.
"Oh," the lieutenant said. His grin reappeared. "Come out, plizz."
As Nedra stepped to Zen's side, the lieutenant's grin widened. He sucked in his breath. "Yess. Oh but yess. Cuso will want to talk to her. Of that I am very sure."
Ed, his face as black as tar, started to protest. He took another look at the rifle in the Asian's hand and quickly changed his mind. The chattering of his teeth was audible all over the room.
"Why do you make that noise?" the lieutenant said, looking at him.
"It—it's cold in here," Ed stuttered.
As the bantam spoke, Zen noticed that the temperature in the big room seemed to have dropped far more than seemed reasonable. Even the opening of the door, and the admission of the cool night air, was not enough to account for the sudden chill in the room.
This cold was different from anything Zen had ever experienced before. It seemed to start at the center of the bones and work its way outward, reaching the skin surface last of all, where it produced a prickling sensation.
"I wish to eat," the lieutenant said.
"Of course," Cal instantly agreed. "Jake! Food for the gentleman."
Jake, his eyes murky, was standing in the door leading to the kitchen. The expression on his face indicated that he was about to launch himself at the Asians.
"Get into that kitchen!" Cal shouted.
"Oh, all right," Jake answered, moving out of sight. The banging of the pots and pans that followed his departure seemed to have a sullen sound.
"That one is not right in the head," the Asian officer said.
"He's just dumb," Cal said, defensively.
The lieutenant pursed his lips. "I forgot to mention that I left some of my men outside."
"Bring them in," Cal said promptly. "They're probably hungry, too. And cold."
"I think I shall leave them where they are," the lieutenant said, decisively. "I left them on guard. They have set up a mounted machine gun at the edge of the street."
"I see," Cal said.
"The gun covers this house," the officer continued.
"Oh," Cal said. A sudden shiver passed through his body. He knew perfectly well what the lieutenant had just told him.
It seemed to Kurt Zen that the temperature of the room had dropped another ten degrees. He was shivering, too, from the effect of that strange cold that seemed to start at the marrow of the bones and spread itself outward.
Of all those in the room, Nedra was the only one who did not seem to be suffering from the effect of the chill. Her eyes were bright and her face had a warm glow. Zen watched her out of the corners of his eyes. Didn't she know that she had escaped from Ed only to fall into the tender mercies of Cuso's men?
"What has happened to you?" he whispered to her.
Turned toward him, her eyes had a glow that seemed to come from some light that was suddenly burning inside them. The glow went from purple to violet, then to ultra-violet. After that, Zen could no longer see the glow, but he suspected it had gone into higher ranges still. What was more surprising was the fact that she was no longer frightened. Confidence had suddenly come to her, seemingly out of nowhere.
"What do you think has happened to me?" Her voice had changed too. All tension had gone from it. The ragged edges of conflict had disappeared. She seemed to be mistress of the situation, and to know it.
Jake came from the kitchen. "I pick up vibrations," he announced, his voice shrill.
"Get into the kitchen," Cal ordered, as the lieutenant raised his gun.
"But I'm only trying to tell you something."
"I'm telling you something, get back into that kitchen!" Cal ordered.
Jake's gaze went murkily around the room but it was obvious that he was giving more attention to some internal sight or sound than to the people present.
"Git," Cal shouted.
Jake backed from the doorway.
The lieutenant lowered the muzzle of the gun. He barked an order to the men with him, who arranged themselves with their backs to the wall. The officer moved toward the fire, where he settled himself in a chair.
"You," he said. "Take off my boots!"
He was speaking to Zen. Kurt measured the distance to the lieutenant's jaw. Out of the corners of his eyes, he noted the positions of the Asian soldiers.
"Odds are too great," he thought. "Stay alive now. Maybe your turn will come."
As he started to kneel, he bumped into Nedra, who was already on the floor unbuckling the officer's boots.
"If you would rather do it, I would rather have you do it," the lieutenant said, smirking.
"It is a privilege, sir," the girl said. She pulled off the heavy boot and began to peel off the thick sock.
The probability that she had saved Kurt Zen's life was very great. He felt a surge of anger at his own helplessness.
The feeling of cold at the marrow of his bones was appearing again. It was stronger now. He noticed that Cal's hands were trembling. The teeth of one of the soldiers standing against the wall were chattering audibly. A second soldier looked as if he were about to go to sleep.
Zen discovered as he yawned that he was getting sleepy too. Along with the cold creeping outward from his bones was a sensation of mental fogginess that was very close to sleep. The lieutenant, sitting directly in front of him, was nodding.
Everybody was getting sleepy! Why? Had some subtle, odorless gas been introduced into the room? What gas? Who had introduced it?
Crash!
The rifle in the hands of the nodding soldier slid out of his grasp and struck the floor, exploding as it hit. The slug ripped a hole through the wall, passing within a foot of the lieutenant's head.
The Asian officer was instantly on his feet. He spun to face the sound.
The soldier who had dropped the rifle slid forward on the floor and lay there, snoring.
As he saw what had happened, the face of the lieutenant settled into a grim mask. He pressed the trigger of the automatic weapon he carried. The gun burped violently. The sleeping soldier jerked as the heavy slugs crashed into his body. A little trickle of blood ran from his nose and collected in a small pool on the floor. The man died where he lay.
"Yen thotem ke vos!" the lieutenant snarled. Two of the soldiers left their position against the wall and lifted the body of their dead comrade. The third remained motionless against the wall while they carried the dead man out.
"If you go to sleep on me!" the lieutenant said, to the third soldier. His meaning was clear. The soldier shook his head. He understood what his officer meant. Terror was in him. But something else was in him too.
Zen watched the soldier fight this something else. Slowly, he let the butt of his rifle slide to the floor. He had enough intelligence and enough strength left not to drop the weapon. He set it against the wall. Then he sat down beside it.
He was making every possible effort to resist sleep, but in spite of everything he could do, he was losing this fight. Slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, his head slid forward. Finally it dropped on his arms that were folded across his knees. He began snoring.
The face of the lieutenant was that of a frightened tiger from the depths of the Assam jungles. The muzzle of the gun swung to cover the sleeping soldier. A split second passed during which this Asian was on the verge of joining his ancestors.
Realizing finally that this man could not be held accountable for his inability to stay awake, the lieutenant held his fire. He jerked up his head to stare around the room. His face was that of a tiger who suspects it has been caught in a trap but is not yet certain of the nature of the device it has been snared in. His eyes came to focus on Cal.
"I—I swear—" The ragged man's voice was a thick mutter that did not convey much meaning. Cal was sleepy too!
"What have you done here?"
"I—nothing. I have done nothing—and I know nothing—I am as surprised as you."
"You're a liar!"
"No. Telling truth—" Cal's head had sagged downward toward his chest and his voice was getting thicker and more groggy. With an effort of will, he snapped his head up. "I—don't know. Something.... Yes! Never heard of anything like it before.... Hell, lieutenant, it's getting me too!"
Cal's head sagged forward on his chest. "So sleepy ... so tired ... gotta take a nap...." His knees sagging, Cal lay down on the floor. He cuddled his head on one arm.
The lieutenant spoke, but the grunt that came from his lips was not a growl. Soon, he, too, was fast asleep.
Kurt and Nedra were the only two people who were able to remain awake. The nurse was making desperate efforts to resist this strange sleepiness. Swaying on her feet, she turned toward Zen. He caught her in his arms.
"What's happening?" She sounded like a tired little girl.
"I don't know," Zen answered.
"Why is everybody going to sleep? Is it bedtime?"
"It must be."
"Are you sleepy, too?" Her voice was a tired whisper.
"I never was so sleepy before in my life," Kurt answered.
"Then why don't we—just take a little nap?" Nedra murmured. The way she spoke, this was the most reasonable suggestion that had ever been offered. Sagging into his arms, she would have fallen if he had not caught her. Gently, he eased her to the floor. Her chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm.
If there was one thing Kurt wanted to do it was to lie down on the floor and go to sleep, too. Every organ in his body, every cell, every molecule seemed to cry out that sleep was needed. He felt his knees begin to sag, his head to droop. It seemed to him that all strength was going out of his body, that his muscles could no longer hold him erect.
"Stay awake!" someone snarled at him. He was startled to realize it was his own voice that had spoken the words. He was even more startled by the fury in the tones.
His knees continued to sag. In spite of everything he could do to prevent it, his body continued on its way to the floor. The muscles in his long legs seemed to have turned into rubber. He went down to his knees but caught himself on his hands.
The impulse to continue the rest of the way to the floor was like a tidal wave. Every thought in his mind was on the desirability of sleep. How wonderful it would be to take a nap, to rest, to dream, to wake no more.
With a strength that was born of desperation, he fought this impulse. A battle began inside his body, a conflict that seemed to involve every brain cell and every nerve ending, and finally every muscle group. Pain came up as muscle fought muscle, as nerve cell fought nerve cell, as one part of the brain fought another part. He tried to force his body to rise to its feet again.
All he could do was grunt.
"Stand up!" he snarled at himself.
His body quivered and twisted but did not move. He repeated the command to himself. The effect was to increase the conflict. And the pain. He had never known such agony. It rolled through him like a series of tidal waves.
Click!
What happened took place so suddenly that it seemed to occur outside of time.
Instantly, as the click sounded, he was outside his body, looking down at it. The pain was gone. The conflicting muscle pulls were gone. Or he was no longer aware of them. He understood that the latter was the true explanation.
"Stand up," he said, to his body.
His body obeyed this order. It rose from its hands and knees and stood upon its feet.
This fact did not surprise Kurt Zen. He had known it would happen. This was the way things were. The essence of him, the consciousness that was above the body, was never surprised.
"Stop trembling," he said, silently, to his body.
Instantly the tremors vanished. The body knew its master.
Kurt Zen also knew that he now had a choice. He could go back into that body. Or he could go—elsewhere. But he knew where he was needed most.
Click!
The way he went back into his body was like turning a switch. One instant, he was inside, looking through his eyes, hearing through his ears.
He moved quickly, snatching the gun from the lieutenant's grasp. Another instant and he had the weapons of the soldiers. He flung these into the corner. Then he grabbed Cal's gun from the floor where the ragged man had dropped it.
At this point, he saw that Nedra was sitting up and was watching him. The expression on her face was that of a sleepy small girl awakening in the morning. Only this small girl did not quite succeed in looking as if she had been asleep. Her eyes were too wide open and she looked much too alert.
"Hello," Zen said. "So you decided to call off the sham." The thought popped into his mind and the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"Did you know?" she gasped.
"Of course I did," Zen stoutly insisted. "When you went to sleep, I knew it was a trick designed to lure me by suggestion into the belief that I was sleepy, too."
"Then why did you let me do it?"
"I wanted to see how far you would go," he answered. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
"What about them? Are they shamming too?" She pointed to the bodies on the floor.
"They're up there, watching," he said, gesturing toward the ceiling. He laughed.
Owlishly, she stared at him. "I do believe you are out of your mind, colonel."
"It helps," he said. "Come on. Let's make tracks."
"That's a splendid idea, colonel. Except for one thing."
"What's that?"
She pointed to the sleeping lieutenant. "He said he had left some men with a machine gun."
"Damn! I had forgotten that. However, that is a problem that can be solved."
"How?"
"This way." He moved to the heavy machine gun mounted at the window so that its muzzle covered the street. He had his finger on the trigger and was searching the street when he realized that she was pulling at his arm and speaking to him. "What?" he said.
"No," she answered. Her voice was very firm.
"Are you out of your mind?" he demanded.
"We don't have to shoot them," she replied.
"Why not?"
"Because they are already taken care of."
"Eh? How do you know?"
"I know."
"Then you also know how these men here were put to sleep?" His voice had the sound of steel on stone.
She faced him without fear. "Yes."
"You did it?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
"Come and I will show you."
"Hunh!" Zen grunted. He made up his mind without hesitation. Starting toward the back door, he discovered that she was going out the front. "But that door is probably covered," he protested.
She opened it without answering his protest. Going through it, Zen thought the night outside was far colder than it had any right to be. Nedra moved without hesitation. Fifty yards away from the house a machine gun mounted on a tripod was set up in the street. Two men were lying on the ground beside it. In the quiet night, Zen could hear them snoring.
"All right," he said. "I have to admit you knew what you were talking about. But if you didn't do this, who did?"
"Just a minute and you will have an answer to your question," she replied.
A block beyond the machine gun, a tall figure lounged in the doorway of a ruined building.
"Hi, kids," he said.
At the first sound of the deep bass voice Zen knew that this was West. The craggy man nodded to him. West did not seem in the least surprised to see Zen.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Zen said.
"I had business here," West said, in a tone of voice that made Zen feel like an errant schoolboy being reproved by a kind, but firm, teacher.
"Did you make those people go to sleep?" Zen continued.
"Has somebody been sleeping?" West answered. "Hmm."
"Yes," Zen said.
"Did you run into some difficulty?" West asked Nedra. He ignored Zen.
"Sort of," the girl answered. "The fact is, I almost got raped. I was afraid I wasn't going to reach you."
"I was busy and didn't pick you up at first," the craggy man said. His voice was a rumble of sound in the darkness. He did not seem surprised when she mentioned what had almost happened. "The colonel followed you, eh?"
"Yes. I told you he would."
"How did you know I would follow you?" Zen demanded. With the lieutenant's gun in his hands, he felt very secure.
"Any woman would know that," Nedra answered. Her laugh tinkled in the darkness. Finding Zen's arm, she squeezed it. "He is one of the new people," she said, to West.
Zen wished he could have sunk into the ground. The craggy man did not seem surprised. "Hmm," he said again. "That is nice." Reserve seemed to have appeared in the bass tones.
"Let's get inside," Nedra suggested. "It's been a hard day and I'm so tired I feel as if I'm walking on my leg bones instead of my feet."
"Sorry," West said, without moving.
"What's wrong?" Nedra asked. Alarm suddenly appeared in her voice. "Don't you believe he is actually one of us? I told you he was."
"I did not say I disbelieved you. But what if you are mistaken?"
"I can't be mistaken. He followed me, didn't he? That proves I'm right."
"Men have been following women since Bhumi started turning," West replied. "What if you are wrong?"
"Oh," the nurse said, a falling inflection in her voice.
"In that case, who would shoot him?" West continued.
"Oh," the nurse said. Her voice fell lower still.
"You know the rules. We cannot have anyone except true mutants."
"Yes."
"In case someone brings in a person who is not a true mutant, it is the duty of the person who introduced the interloper to dispose of him."
"I know," Nedra said.
"In this case, it would be up to you to shoot the colonel," West continued. "Could you do it?"
"Well, I wouldn't want to—" The reluctance in her voice was very strong. "But I would do it."
"I hope I don't have to hold you to your promise," West said. "But in that case, come on, both of you. That is, if the colonel wishes."
"You can't kid me," Zen said. "Neither of you are capable of shooting anybody." He spoke fearlessly but he felt a trace of doubt. Not one of the new people had ever betrayed their group. This indicated something. "Lead on. I'm following."
Nedra found Zen's arm.
"Would you cry, after you had shot me?" Zen asked.
"Y—yes."
"But that wouldn't keep you from shooting me?"
"No."
"Well, that would be nice, anyhow, though I do not see what good it would do me."
"You sound as if you wouldn't care," the girl said.
"There are times when I am sure death would be a blessed relief." Zen meant every word he said. "That life down there," he jerked his thumb to indicate the lower ranges and the plains so far below, "gets tiresome. That's an understatement, if I ever made one."
The nurse was silent. "Yes, I understand," she said at last. "It was that way with me, once."
"How much farther before we get to—Hell, where are we going anyhow?" Zen blurted out.
"To the center here," Nedra answered.
"Um," Zen said. He wanted to say something else but he decided he'd better be careful.
West led them into an old tunnel which bored straight into the side of the mountain.
"Is the center in here?" Zen asked.
"Of course," Nedra answered.
"But why haven't Cal and his buddies found it?"
"They don't even know we exist," Nedra explained. "And if they did, for some reason they wouldn't like to come into the tunnels."
"In effect, the tunnel is wired," West said.
"Do you mean they would get a jolt of high voltage electricity if they ventured in here?"
"Nothing as crude as that," the craggy man replied. "However, at two places, high frequency generators are built into the walls and hidden in such a manner that a person entering the tunnel is saturated with their radiations, which trigger the adrenals in his body. The result of this is that he suddenly feels very much afraid."
"Eh?" Zen said, startled. "A fear generator?"
"In effect, it is that."
"But that would be a very powerful weapon."
"Yes, it would," the craggy man said, his voice dry.
"If you could generate such radiations in sufficient intensity and cover a large enough area with them, you could panic a division, perhaps even an army." Excitement was in Zen's voice. He knew that the scientists were desperately searching for a new weapon that might possibly end the war. Perhaps here was such a weapon.
"It might work that way," West admitted.
"Does the government know about this?"
"I believe not."
"Who invented it?"
"I believe Jal Jonner is generally credited with being the inventor," West said.
"Oh," Zen answered, and was silent. Jonner's name had become a legend of the days when there were giants in the Earth, mighty men whose thinking had gone beyond the concept of nations to envision one race, beyond the creeds of churches to see one faith, and beyond the dogma of economics to state that as long as one hungry man existed on the face of the earth, no man with a full dinner in front of him was free to eat his meal in peace and safety. Jonner's thinking had also gone beyond one planet to see one solar system—and beyond that, one universe.
"Here is the first generator," West said. He flicked the beam of his flashlight against the walls. "Of course, there isn't anything to see. But you may feel something."
As the intelligence agent moved forward, a sudden surge of fear came boiling up from his middle. It was a wild emotion and it carried with it a blasting sense of great peril, of death. Instantly, thoughts flashed through his mind of the first time he had ever been under shell fire, the scream of artillery shells, the blasts of the explosions, the shaking of the earth.
As the surge of fear shot upward from his middle, he felt his body jerk and start to tremble. "Run!" a voice screamed inside him. "Get away from here! Run for your life!"
He caught the impulse to flee, held it in check. It was like trying to hold back a tidal wave. "This is an interesting effect," he said. "Does the generator have the same effect on all people?"
West grunted and walked ahead without answering the question. Zen thought the grunt held an approving tone. Nedra squeezed his arm but said nothing.
The craggy man did not point out the second generator, but Zen felt the radiations hit him, stronger than before. He was mentally prepared this time, but his body wasn't. He felt his muscles tie themselves into knots. The impulse to run was a screaming ululation of mad wolf intensity pouring into his consciousness.
Zen kept on walking. As abruptly as he had entered it, he was out of the radiation zone. Up ahead of him, West did not grunt or change his pace. Except for Nedra's fingers digging into his arm, Zen had no indication that either felt the radiation. What kind of people were they, to be able to walk through hell and be uninfluenced by it? Zen wondered as he wiped sweat off his forehead.
Ahead, West grunted and played his light on the side wall. The craggy man grunted again. On the right, the side wall began to swing back as a door opened there. From the tunnel the wall looked like solid stone, but as the door opened, the back was seen to be made of metal. A lighted tunnel leading to a large gallery lay beyond.
"Enter," West said.
"Who did all of this?" Zen inquired.
"Jal Jonner took over the title to this old mine. He and his men sealed off the deeper tunnels, enlarged them, provided an air supply, built laboratories and living quarters, and made a comfortable hidden world here."
Zen felt he should have known better than to ask. According to these people, Jal Jonner had done everything, except lay the foundations of the world. "I see," the colonel said. "He did all of this before he died." None of the reports he had read had mentioned this activity, or had even hinted at it, but he did not see fit to mention this.
"No," West denied.
"But you just said—"
"He did it after he died," the craggy man explained.
"Huh?" Zen said. "Pardon me, but I did not seem to hear you clearly. I thought you said he did this after he died."
"That's what I said. That's what he did." The craggy man's voice was calm.
"I—uh—" Zen hastily changed his mind about the words he was going to use. Secretly he was wondering if West was hopelessly insane. How could a dead man build anything? "You understand that I am not too familiar with what actually happened. Sorry and all that but I simply haven't had to learn."
"I understand," West said. "You don't need to apologize. You will learn here."
"Good," Zen said. He doubted if he felt better because his explanation had been accepted. West's last words had an ominous ring to them.
"Your lack of familiarity with Jonner's history is very obvious," West continued.
"But if he was dead—"
"He didn't die," West patiently explained. "He was buried. A handsome monument was erected over his grave. But he wasn't in the grave."
"Son-of-a-gun!" Zen said. "Why all the fol-de-rol?"
"To deceive curious intelligence agents," West said, with no humor in his voice.
Zen ignored the ironic threat. He was inside, this was what mattered. Also the idea of one of the world's foremost scientists—and Jonner had been exactly that—hiding himself away here where he could work undisturbed with others who shared his dream, intrigued him. Or had that dream been a grim prognostication of the way things were to be on the surface of the third planet out from the sun? Had the work here been an effort to escape that future? Was this underground cavern really a modern Ark, dug into the heart of a mountain so that at least a few humans might escape the deluge by fire?
Had a modern Noah appeared and not been recognized?
The thought shocked Kurt Zen. Somewhere he had read a prediction that Earth would be destroyed by fire. Here was evidence that possibly at least one human being had taken that prediction seriously enough to build a bomb-and-radiation-proof shelter!
"You seem to be thinking seriously," West observed.
"Perhaps for the first time in my life, I am doing exactly that. My brain seems to be trying to spin."
"Ah? Are you surprised at what you find here?"
"No. That is, not much. Mostly, I'm pleased."
"Good." West seemed satisfied. "Here comes John to greet us."
The craggy man's face lit up as a tall youth emerged from an adjoining tunnel and came forward to meet them. His greeting to West had respect in it, he merely glanced at Zen, but it was the nurse who commanded and held his interest.
"Nedra! You're back!"
"Of course I'm back, John." As if this were the most natural thing to do, Nedra allowed herself to be taken in John's arms. West smiled benevolently at the two. Zen carefully looked in the other direction.
"This is Colonel Kurt Zen, John," West said, when the two had finished kissing.
The tall youth extended his hand and said he was glad to meet Kurt. His face was brown, his cheeks were lean and slightly hollow, but his eyes were clear and his grip was firm without being bone-crushing.
"I imagine Kurt is rather tired," West said. "If you would find quarters for him, John—"
"Glad to do it," the tall youth said. "Come with me, Kurt."
Zen nodded goodnight to Nedra and to West and followed John away. He was tired down to the bottom of his thick-soled boots. Fatigue lay in layers through his muscles and along his nerve trunks. He knew he was keeping himself from collapsing only by an effort of will.
"I'll give you my room," John said.
"I couldn't think of depriving you of your quarters, old fellow," Zen protested.
"It's no deprivation. Besides, I'll be with Nedra."
"Um," Zen said. The jealousy he felt almost made him forget how tired he was.
The room was as bare as the cell of a monk. The bed was a double decker with the top deck covered with books. It was hand-made, of rough pine posts, and the springs were cords. There was no mattress. And no pillow. A reading lamp was at the head.
"Hope you're comfortable here," the tall youth said. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
"Nothing. But you might show me the little boy's room."
"Are you still on that level?" The tall youth seemed genuinely surprised.
"Yes," Zen said. Then, as the implications back of the question caught him, "Aren't you on the same level? I mean, don't you go?"
"Well, yes," John answered. Embarrassment reddened his face. "But you're older than I am, and I thought perhaps you—" His voice trailed off into silence as his embarrassment grew.
"You thought what?" Zen continued.
"Well, that—" The youth became flustered, then seemed to become irritated with himself for being flustered, then for being irritated. Zen watched the emotional reaction build higher and higher. He could see no possible importance in the emotional response of the tall kid except that the kid had intimated that he might be spending the night with Nedra. Would people who didn't use toilets spend nights together? If they did, what would they do? Talk about the beauties of flowers and read poetry to each other? Zen sniffed silently to himself, to show his contempt for such antics.
"I'll show you where to go," John said, suddenly.
Zen followed the tall youth out of the room and into a short tunnel which led to a large gallery. Here the old-time miners had found a sizeable body of ore. The gallery had been cleared of refuse and a number of small rooms had been dug into the walls, the whole place being illumined by a fluorescent paint that covered the walls. The color of the light was a misty blue and the whole big gallery seemed to float in this light, creating an effect that was breath-takingly beautiful.
In the first room they passed a naked young woman who was going through gymnastic exercises in time to slow music. At the sight of her lithe, brown body bending and swaying in time to slow music, Zen whistled appreciatively through his teeth. She was almost enough to make him forget Nedra.
In another room a fat youth was reading a book. He was lying flat on the floor. In a third, a skinny young man with skin the color of old ivory was sitting cross-legged before a shrine. His features were as immobile as a statue of Buddha. The same faint smile seemed painted on his face.
In another room a beautiful young woman was undressing preparatory to retiring. She hadn't bothered to close the door.
"What the hell is this, a glorified whorehouse?" Zen blurted out.
"Awhore house? What's that?" John asked.
His manner made Zen feel like apologizing for having used such words in his presence. "Never mind. I withdraw the question. Who keeps tab on where the boys and the girls spend the night?"
"No one," John answered, astonished. "Is somebody supposed to?" He was startled at the idea. "Oh, you are concerned about sex. You are also new here. Sex is no problem here, as you will learn."
"No problem? Don't you engage in it?"
"We have other, and more important things, to do," John answered. His words were lofty but his tone was kind.
Zen heard the words but he filed mental reservations about accepting their meaning. Silently he wondered if these kids had all their marbles. Apparently they had not even learned about the birds and the bees.
"Anything else I can tell you?" John asked.
"You've already told me too much," Zen answered. "I'm afraid to ask you any more questions."
The toilet had no flush plumbing.After use, press the button, a sign above it said. Zen did just that. No sound of running water followed but the colonel had the dim impression that intensely bright light had flared for a moment. He did not have the courage to look and see what had happened.
In some ways, this toilet which disposed of its contents in a flash of light was more significant and possibly more productive of concern than Cuso's blooper or Cuso's lieutenant had been. If the new people found it convenient to disintegrate their sewage, rather than dispose of it by the conventional method, what else could they do?
Zen shook his head to indicate to himself how amazed he was. John thought he wanted more information and started to ask a question, which the colonel hastily interrupted. "Don't tell me any more. There are limits to what my liver and lights will stand."
"What have your liver and lights to do with this?"
"Nothing at all. That was only a figure of speech."
As they returned through the gallery, he saw that the bronze girl was still going through her rhythmic dance in time to the slow music. The sight of that perfectly formed nude body slowly swaying in the small room sent such a surge of excitement through Kurt Zen that he hastily turned his eyes away. If he was going to live in this place very long, they would have to make some new rules. How could any human being stay in bed alone when that beautiful bronze creature was going through her swaying dance?
"What is she doing, learning to be a strip-tease dancer?" he asked.
"Perfect muscular control. This is one of the exercises we all learn," John answered. "What's a strip-tease dancer?"
"Nothing you ever heard of," Zen answered. "But while she is developing her muscular control, what is she doing to the endocrinal system of every male in the place?"
"Not a thing," John said, astonished again.
Zen had grave doubts that the tall youth knew what he was talking about.
John selected a single book from the top of the double-decker bed, and anxiously inquired if there was anything more he could do to make the colonel comfortable for the night. Upon being told there was not, he departed with the book. Zen thought of the book benignly. If the tall youth was going to spend the night with Nedra, at least there would be a book between them.
He slid off his heavy pack and set the lieutenant's sub-machine gun where he could reach it readily. His counter told him there was no radioactivity present.
Books were in a niche in the stone wall behind the bed. The author of one caught his eye: Jal Jonner.
The name was enough to hold his attention. Jonner was known to have written books, but few had survived. Even the Library of Congress did not have them, but there was no Library of Congress in any sense of the word any more. When Washington had left the planet, the Library had gone with it.
Glancing at the introduction, Zen forgot all about his fatigue and where he was. One glance at the words and he knew he was in contact with the living waters of life itself.
INTRODUCTIONIn the beginning, I am going to make an inaccurate statement. I am going to say that the reading of this book may open a new life for you. Now let me explain why this statement is inaccurate.In the first place, it is inaccurate because this is not the start of your life. That took place millions of years ago—more millions of years than I care to mention here.So your life did not start with the reading of these words.—Now as to the use of the word "new." This, also is inaccurate. To you, the ideas expressed here may seem novel and new. But they are not new in the sense that they have just been created, or even that I have created them. They were implicit in the formation of the first molecule of protoplasm that came into existence on this planet. They are, therefore, as old as life.The pattern which you may, or may not follow, was laid down in the first molecule of protoplasm which appeared on this planet, as the Law of Growth.However, there is no law which requires that one species on this planet, or even all combined species, the total life spectrum here, shall survive to grow to full stature. The possibility of growth is implicit in every form of life; it is latent, and capable of development, in every species. However, the species that fails to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered, if it fails to develop its potential, must inevitably give earth room to the species which is developing. In their day, the dinosaurs ruled the planet. They had their chance, but they failed to develop.Where, now, are the dinosaurs?The Law is—Grow or Die. THIS LAW ALSO APPLIES TO MAN.This book may be regarded as a primer, a starting point of your adventure into the coming development of man. It is the first text book that you will receive. It is the beginning of the way.How much progress you make upon the way, how well you master the law of growth, is, in large measure, up to you. You will receive assistance, sometimes without your knowledge, but it will not be the kind of assistance that will retard or weaken your development. The new people will not be helped—too much! Strength is required of them and strength is only achieved by overcoming obstacles.The next upward step that the race takes—if it survives its own self-destructive impulses—will be of such a nature as to require the utmost in strength and courage from those who participate in it.This step, it is fair to state, is in the direction of a higher development of consciousness.Good luck—and God go with you.Jal JonnerThe Big SurJuly 1971
INTRODUCTION
In the beginning, I am going to make an inaccurate statement. I am going to say that the reading of this book may open a new life for you. Now let me explain why this statement is inaccurate.
In the first place, it is inaccurate because this is not the start of your life. That took place millions of years ago—more millions of years than I care to mention here.
So your life did not start with the reading of these words.—Now as to the use of the word "new." This, also is inaccurate. To you, the ideas expressed here may seem novel and new. But they are not new in the sense that they have just been created, or even that I have created them. They were implicit in the formation of the first molecule of protoplasm that came into existence on this planet. They are, therefore, as old as life.
The pattern which you may, or may not follow, was laid down in the first molecule of protoplasm which appeared on this planet, as the Law of Growth.
However, there is no law which requires that one species on this planet, or even all combined species, the total life spectrum here, shall survive to grow to full stature. The possibility of growth is implicit in every form of life; it is latent, and capable of development, in every species. However, the species that fails to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered, if it fails to develop its potential, must inevitably give earth room to the species which is developing. In their day, the dinosaurs ruled the planet. They had their chance, but they failed to develop.
Where, now, are the dinosaurs?
The Law is—Grow or Die. THIS LAW ALSO APPLIES TO MAN.
This book may be regarded as a primer, a starting point of your adventure into the coming development of man. It is the first text book that you will receive. It is the beginning of the way.
How much progress you make upon the way, how well you master the law of growth, is, in large measure, up to you. You will receive assistance, sometimes without your knowledge, but it will not be the kind of assistance that will retard or weaken your development. The new people will not be helped—too much! Strength is required of them and strength is only achieved by overcoming obstacles.
The next upward step that the race takes—if it survives its own self-destructive impulses—will be of such a nature as to require the utmost in strength and courage from those who participate in it.
This step, it is fair to state, is in the direction of a higher development of consciousness.
Good luck—and God go with you.
Jal JonnerThe Big SurJuly 1971
Written in 1971, the book was now 49 years old, Zen decided after a rapid calculation. The war had started in 2009. The time was now 2020.
Eagerly, he turned to the first chapter. It seemed to him that his life was just beginning, that everything that had ever happened to him and all that he had ever done was in preparation for this moment, when life would begin.
After reading two pages, he reached the conclusion that, if this was a primer, the text that was to follow must be difficult indeed. The book started with mathematics that was twice as difficult as calculus. Trying to concentrate, he found the symbols blurring before his eyes. Then, as fatigue finally overwhelmed him, the whole page blurred and was gone. He was asleep.
But he wasn't really asleep. The body slept. But he was not the body. He was the consciousness that animated the body. This never slept.
He awakened at the touch of a hand on his shoulder.