Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 (18 page)

 
          
 
"But it is hard to put a finger on
it," she said. "It is just that he seems more—more animated—now, and
there is an alert look, something about the way he moves his eyes, that was not
there before."

 
          
 
"I had better go see him right now,"
Alec said. "Thanks again."

 
          
 
He made his way to Dennis' quarters, knocked
and reached to open the door.

 
          
 
"Yes?" said a voice from within.

           
 
“It's me— Alee," he said. "May I
come in?"

 
          
 
"Come in," said the voice, without
inflection.

 
          
 
Dennis was seated by the window, sketchpad
open on his lap. He looked up and smiled as Alec entered.

 
          
 
Alec approached, glanced down at the pad It
was filled with sketches of nearby buildings.

 
          
 
"Very good," he said. "I am
glad to see that you are moving on to other subject matter."

 
          
 
Dennis smiled again.

 
          
 
"You seem to be in good spirits today. I
am glad about that, too. Any special reason?"

 
          
 
Dennis shrugged.

 
          
 
"Say," Alec said, almost casually.
"I didn't mean to trouble you the other day with that business about your
name."

 
          
 
"No—trouble," Dennis said.

 
          
 
"Do you recall it, though?"

 
          
 
"Say—it—again."

 
          
 
"Dennis. Dennis Guise."

 
          
 
"Yes. Dennis Guise. Yes."

 
          
 
"Care for a little exercise?"

 
          
 
"Exer—cise?"

 
          
 
"Would you like to go for your walk
now?"

 
          
 
"Oh. Yes. Yes. A walk. Exercise ..."

 
          
 
Dennis closed the pad. He rose and crossed the
room. He opened the door, held it for Alec.

 
          
 
Alec led him along their usual route toward
the fountain.

 
          
 
"Anything special you would like to talk
about?" he asked.

 
          
 
"Yes," Dennis immediately replied.
"Talk about talk."

 
          
 
"I—I don't quite understand."

 
          
 
M Talk—ing. Parts."

 
          
 
"Words?"

 
          
 
"Yes. Words."

 
          
 
"Oh. You want to review your vocabulary.
All right. Sure."

 
          
 
Alec began naming everything they passed.
Suppressing excitement, he reviewed the parts of the body, pronouns, basic
verbs. Dennis' speech blossomed as they strolled.

 
          
 
Later, standing beside the fountain, Dennis
asked, "How does it work, the fountain?"

 
          
 
"Oh, just a simple pump," Alex said.

 
          
 
"What sort of pump? I would like to see
it."

 
          
 
"I am not certain exactly what kind of
pump it is. I can speak with someone in maintenance later and probably get you a
look at it. Maybe tomorrow."

 
          
 
"All right. Sure. Alec?"

 
          
 
"What?"

 
          
 
"I—Where are we?"

 
          
 
"This is the Luna Medical Facility
II."

 
          
 
"Luna!"

 
          
 
"Yes, the moon. You are only just
beginning to realize... ?"

 
          
 
Dennis had sagged back against the side of the
fountain. Suddenly, he looked up.

 
          
 
"No overhead views from this
section," Alec said. "If you would like, I can take you to an
observation deck."

 
          
 
Dennis nodded vigorously.

 
          
 
"Please."

 
          
 
Alec took his arm.

 
          
 
"I guess that it would come as a shock—if
you had not realized it, had not thought about it, all along. I should
apologize. I am taking too many things for granted, because of the way you
suddenly began communicating since you—since you..."

 
          
 
"... became less mad?" Dennis
finished, recovering his composure and smiling.

 
          
 
"No, no. That is the wrong word. Listen,
do you have any understanding, of what has been happening to you, of what
things have been like for you until today?"

 
          
 
Dennis shook his head.

 
          
 
"Not really," he said. "I wish
that I did."

 
          
 
Alec tried a quick mental probe, but as on two
earlier occasions during their walk that day, he could not get beyond the
surface thoughts, forcused as they were on present circumstances with such
force of concentration as to preclude access to anything beyond them.

 
          
 
"I see no reason not to tell you
something about it," Alec said. "You have been ill much of your life
with a condition brought on by your telepathic faculty. You were exposed to
adult thoughts too soon—from birth—and they interfered with your own thinking,
until now. Bringing you to the moon got you away from much of the interference.
This has finally allowed you to achieve some stability, to sort things out, to
begin to think for yourself, to become aware of who you are. Do you understand?
You are just now beginning to come into your own as a rational being."

 
          
 
"I—think I see. The past is so cloudy
..."

 
          
 
"Of course. The elevator is this
way."

 
          
 
"What is a telepathic faculty?"

 
          
 
"Well ... An ability to tell directly
what other people are thinking."

 
          
 
"Oh."

 
          
 
"It was too much for a child to cope
with."

 
          
 
"Yes."

 
          
 
"Do you have any idea what brought you
out of it? Do you recall when your thoughts first came to include a measure of
self-awareness?"

 
          
 
Dennis grinned.

 
          
 
"No. It is sort of like waking up,"
he said. "You are never certain when it begins, but there comes a time
when it has occurred. I think it is still going on."

 
          
 
"Good."

 
          
 
Alec thumbed open a door, led Dennis within,
pressed a button on the wall.

 
          
 
"I am—quite—ignorant," Dennis said.
"Do not take it as a—relapse—if I ask about the obvious—or lack certain
words."

 
          
 
"Lord, no! You are making progress right
before my eyes. In fact, I find it difficult to believe this is really
happening."

 
          
 
The elevator hummed about them. Dennis touched
the wall and chuckled.

 
          
 
"So do I, so do
I.
Tell me, do you possess this—telepathic
faculty—yourself?"

 
          
 
"Yes."

 
          
 
"Do many people?"

 
          
 
"No, we are a distinct minority."

 
          
 
"I see. Are you using yours on me?"

 
          
 
"No. I feel we are better off talking
this way. The practice is good for you. Do you want to try the other?"

 
          
 
"Not just now. No."

 
          
 
"Good. I was coming to that. It may be
better if you do not attempt it for a time. No sense running the risk of
reopening old channels of vulnerability until you have toughened your psyche a
bit more."

 
          
 
"That sounds reasonable."

 
          
 
The door opened. Alec led him out into the
observation lounge—a long, curved room, chairs and benches spotted about it,
lit only by the stars and the great globe of the Earth beyond the transparent
bubble that roofed it

 
          
 
Dennis gasped and flattened himself against
the wall.

 
          
 
"It's all right," Alec said.
"Safe. There is nothing to fear."

 
          
 
"Give me a chance," Dennis said.
"Wait and let me look. Do not talk. God! It is lovely! Up there. The world
... I have to paint it. How will I get the colors ... here?"

 
          
 
"Ms. Brant will give you paints,"
Alec said.

 
          
 
"But the light..."

 
          
 
"There are alcoves farther along which
can be illuminated—" He gestured. "You never realized ... that all
this was here? That this was where you were—the moon?"

 
          
 
"No. I—I want to sit in one of the
chairs."

 
          
 
"Of course. Come on."

 
          
 
Alec led him to a pair of chairs, reclined
them, saw Dennis into one, took the other himself. For perhaps an hour they
regarded the sky. Alec tried probing Dennis twice during that time, but on both
occasions was met with that fierce concentration which blocked further reading.

 
          
 
Finally, Dennis rose.

 
          
 
"It is almost too much," he said.
"Let us go back now."

 
          
 
Alec nodded.