Virtual Unrealities, The Short Fiction of Alfred Bester (54 page)

“I really don’t think, Sergeant, that I can—”

“What room?”

“I’m trying to explain, sir. Mr. Wilkins particularly requested me not to—”

“I don’t want an argument. I want the room number.”

“Please!” Jinny broke in. “He may be … sick. Every moment counts. He—”

“I said I’d handle this,” Simmons growled. He turned his icy gaze on the clerk. “I’ll give you exactly one minute to produce—”

“Hold the phone,” Gardner said in a tight voice. He lifted his hand and pointed.

The creaking cage elevator was settling down to the main floor. Inside the cage stood Granville, his face white and set, his body stiff, his hands hanging rigidly at his sides. He looked like a badly trained orator.

As the elevator door clashed open, Jinny cried: “Charles!” and ran to him.

Granville stepped out, raised his arms and enfolded her as she ran into him. He said: “Jinny … Jinny dear …” in a small voice, and then smiled at the two men as they closed in. “Gardner … Simmons … Hello. Come to save me from a dishonorable death?”

Gardner inspected his face closely and said: “Morphine?”

“Right here,” Granville answered. Without dislodging the sobbing girl he reached into his pocket and handed the brown bottle to Gardner. “100 poisonous tablets.” He smiled. “Is that what you had on your mind?”

“Among other things,” Gardner said. “Change your mind up there?”

“About what?”

“About what! I could draw up a list that— But it can wait. Change your mind about the hoax?”

“What hoax?”

“The Coven hoax.”

“Coven? Fella that was DOA this morning? What about him?”

“What about—” Gardner was stupent. “And Arno?”

“Who’s Arno?”

“How should I know? You were doing all the talking about him.”

“Was I? Oh … I …” Granville looked ashamed. “It’s the damndest thing, Gardner. I’ve forgotten.”

“Forgotten how much?”

“Forgotten what I was so mad about today. I know I was in an awful tizzy about something … but it doesn’t make sense now.”

“Why’d you check into this hotel?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened upstairs?”

Granville considered earnestly. “I finally understood Poe.”

“Poe!”

“Edgar Allan Poe. He wrote a story about the devil who always wore dark glasses. Finally the devil took them off—and he didn’t have any eyes at all. I think Poe saw the devil without glasses. That’s what blighted him.”

“For God’s sake, Chuck …”

“No. I’m kidding. I don’t know why I checked in or what I wanted to do. Get away from myself maybe. I went up to the room. I was scared and angry and upset. I knew I’d been making a fool of myself … and then suddenly everything was all right. I’m not blighted, Gardner. Poe was only a poet. I’m a poetic scientist.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Sure I’m kidding, ape!”

“He’s kidding. He can make a funny again. Gardner’s infallible sanity test.” Gardner’s angry red face broke into a relieved smile. He pumped Granville’s hand energetically. “Glad to have you back with us, Chuck. Have you met your long-lost friends? Jinny … Dr. Granville. Sergeant Simmons … Dr. Granville.”

Simmons snorted: “It’s about time, Doc.”

“Overwork,” Gardner bubbled. “Just overwork, Simmons. Happens to interns all over the country. I can tell you things about four out of five interns that would astonish you.”

“I can imagine,” Simmons grunted. To Granville he said: “So all right, Doc? I can go get my supper? You ain’t mad at me no more on account of the way I laugh?”

“Laugh? Is that what I was mad about? N-no, Simmons. Not at all. I … I’m terribly sorry.”

“And you’re sure you’re all right, Charles?” Jinny turned her wet face up. “You haven’t changed?”

“I’m fine, honey. I feel reborn. About the only thing that’s changed is my ears. They feel as long as a jackass.” He laughed embarrassedly.

Gardner chuckled and turned away with Simmons. “Meet you out in the car,” he said.

But Jinny held on to Granville tightly. She gasped a little and said: “Charlie … You’re … well, you’re laughing so strangely. You never laughed like that before.”

“Like what, dear?”

“Like … The same way you said my brother and Dr. Berne laughed … and Coven. I’m beginning to hear it. You said—”

He kissed her and smiled. “Forget anything I said. I was mixed up today. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed … almost; but I’m back on the right side now.” He laughed again. It was a parrot laugh.

Jinny looked at him in fright. He put his arm around her waist and led her out to the street. In soothing tones he said: “After we’re married, sweetheart, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Tell me now.”

He shook his head. “It’s a secret,” he said, “I’m saving for your wedding present. You’ll be surprised, Jinny. You’ll really be surprised.”

There is sound that is music. There is space. There are voices. There is an identity named Starr, speaking in a muffled and distorted voice, calling to a girl sleeping feverishly after a cruelly exhausting day …

“Virginia, Virginia Gardner! Can you hear me?”

Steps in the mist.

“This way, Virginia. Come this way.”

In broken fragments, the voice painfully penetrates the dream chaos.

“Virginia, we have lost Charles Granville to Coven. We are trying to contact you before Granville can deaden your responses. You must listen, Virginia …”

Out of the depths of unknown space the identity named Starr cries: “Great Heaven! There must be some way to awaken the Human Race!”

THE STARS MY DESTINATION

by Alfred Bester

In this pulse-quickening novel, Alfred Bester imagines a future in which people “jaunte” a thousand miles with a single thought, where the rich barricade themselves in labyrinths and protect themselves with radioactive hit men—and where an inarticulate outcast is the most valuable and dangerous man alive.
The Stars My Destination
is a classic of technological prophecy and timeless narrative enchantment by an acknowledged master of science fiction.

Science Fiction/0-679-76780-0