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<v Speaker 1>Collie by Jack Egan above him, eighty feet of torpid

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<v Speaker 1>black water hung like a shroud of death. And still

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<v Speaker 1>he heard his ragged breathing and something else. Collie concentrated

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<v Speaker 1>on that sound, in the rhythmic pulsing of his heart.

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<v Speaker 1>Somehow he had to retain a hold on his sanity

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<v Speaker 1>or his soul. After an hour of careful breathing and

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<v Speaker 1>exploring of body sensations, Collie realized he could move. He

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<v Speaker 1>fluxed an arm, a mote of gold sand sifted upward

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<v Speaker 1>in the dark water. It had a pleasant color in

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<v Speaker 1>contrast with the ominous shades of the sea. In a

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<v Speaker 1>few moments, he had struggled to a sitting position, delighting

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<v Speaker 1>in the curtain of glittering metal grains whirling around him

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<v Speaker 1>as he moved. And the other sound a humming in

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<v Speaker 1>his mind, a distant burble of tiny voices of other minds,

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<v Speaker 1>words swirling in giddy patterns he couldn't understand. Shortly thereafter,

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<v Speaker 1>Culley discovered why he still lived. Breathed a suit, a

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<v Speaker 1>yellow plastic water tight suit with an orange on black

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<v Speaker 1>shield on the left breast pocket and a clear bubble helmet.

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<v Speaker 1>He felt weight on his back and examined it. Two

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<v Speaker 1>air tanks and the regulator, a radio and the box

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<v Speaker 1>suit tanks regulator, radio, black water box, sand sea stillness.

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<v Speaker 1>Culley considered his world. It was small, it was conceivable,

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<v Speaker 1>it was incomplete. Where is it? Where is what? He knew?

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<v Speaker 1>He had a voice, a means of communication between others

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<v Speaker 1>of his kind using low, frequent and see heat waves

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<v Speaker 1>caused by agitation of air molecules. Why couldn't he make

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<v Speaker 1>it work? Words? Thousands of them at his beck and call?

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<v Speaker 1>What were they? What did they mean? He shifted uncomfortably

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<v Speaker 1>in the tight yellow suit, searching the near horizon for

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<v Speaker 1>where is it? A vague calling came from beyond the

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<v Speaker 1>black sea curtain. Objectively, because he could do nothing to

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<v Speaker 1>stop them, he watched his feet pick up, move forward,

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<v Speaker 1>put down, pick up, move forward, put down. Funny. He

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<v Speaker 1>had the feeling the concept that this action held, meaning

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<v Speaker 1>it was supposed to cause some reaction, accomplish and act.

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<v Speaker 1>He wondered at the regular movement of his legs, one

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<v Speaker 1>of them. Hurt. A hurt is a sensation of pain

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<v Speaker 1>caused by overloading sensory units in the body. A hurt

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<v Speaker 1>is bad because it indicates something is wrong. Something certainly

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<v Speaker 1>was wrong. Something stirred in Cully's mind. He stopped and

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<v Speaker 1>sat down at the sandy sea bottom, gracefully like a

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<v Speaker 1>ballet dancer. He examined his foot. There was a tiny

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<v Speaker 1>hole in the yellow plastic fabric, and a thin string

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<v Speaker 1>of red black was oozing out blood. He knew he

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<v Speaker 1>was bleeding. He could do nothing about it. He got

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<v Speaker 1>up and resumed walking. Where is it? Cully lifted his

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<v Speaker 1>head an annoyance at the sharp thought. Go away, he said,

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<v Speaker 1>in a low, pleading voice. The sound made him feel better.

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<v Speaker 1>He began muttering to himself. Water, black sand, hurt, pain,

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<v Speaker 1>radio tanks. It didn't sound right. After a few minutes

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<v Speaker 1>he was quiet. The many thoughts were calling him. He

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<v Speaker 1>must go to the many thoughts. If his foot was bleeding,

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<v Speaker 1>then something had happened. If something had happened, then his

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<v Speaker 1>foot was bleeding. No. If something had happened, then maybe

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<v Speaker 1>other things had happened before that. But how could something

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<v Speaker 1>happen in a world of flat gold sand and flaccid sea.

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<v Speaker 1>Surely there was something wrong wrong, the state of being

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<v Speaker 1>not right. Something had happened that was not right. Cully

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<v Speaker 1>stared at the edges of the unmoving curtain before him.

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<v Speaker 1>Where is it? It was a driving, promise filled concept,

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<v Speaker 1>no words, just the sense that something wonderful lay just

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<v Speaker 1>beyond reach. But this voice was different from the many

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<v Speaker 1>thoughts it was directing his body. His mind was along

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<v Speaker 1>for the ride. The sameness of the sea and sand

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<v Speaker 1>became unbearable. It was too right. Somehow, Cully felt anger

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<v Speaker 1>and kicked up eddies of dust. It changed the sameness

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<v Speaker 1>a little. He kicked more up until it swirled around

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<v Speaker 1>him in a thick gold haze, blotting out the terrible

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<v Speaker 1>emptiness of the sea. He felt another weight at his side.

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<v Speaker 1>He found a holster and gun. He recognized neither again.

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<v Speaker 1>He watched objectively as his hand pulled the black object

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<v Speaker 1>out and handled it. His body was evidently familiar with it,

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<v Speaker 1>though it was strange to his eyes. His fingers slipped

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<v Speaker 1>automatically into the trigger sheaf. His legs were still working

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<v Speaker 1>under two drives. The many thoughts urging, and something else

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<v Speaker 1>buried in him, a longing up and down, back and forth.

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<v Speaker 1>Where is it? Anger? Frustration flared in him. His hand

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<v Speaker 1>shot out gun at ready. He turned round slowly through

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<v Speaker 1>the settling trail, of suspended sand. Nothing was visible again.

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<v Speaker 1>He was moving. Something made his legs move. He walked

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<v Speaker 1>on through the shrouds of death until he felt a

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<v Speaker 1>taut singing in his nerves, and irrational fear sprang out

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<v Speaker 1>in him, cascading down his spine, and Cully shuddered ahead.

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<v Speaker 1>There was something. Two motives. Get there because it, they calls.

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<v Speaker 1>Get here, Get there because you must. Where is it?

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<v Speaker 1>The mind voice was excited, demanding something was out there

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<v Speaker 1>besides the sameness. Collie walked on, trailing gold. The death

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<v Speaker 1>curtain parted, an undulating garden of blue and gold. Streamers

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<v Speaker 1>suddenly drifted toward him on an unfelt current. Cully was

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<v Speaker 1>held entranced. They flowed before him, their colors dazzling, hypnotic,

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<v Speaker 1>come closer, earthling. The many thoughts spoke inside his head soothingly,

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<v Speaker 1>Here it is, Cully's mind shouted. Cully's mind was held hypnotized,

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<v Speaker 1>but his body moved of its own volition. He moved again.

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<v Speaker 1>His mind and the many thoughts spoke fulfillment. Almost there

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<v Speaker 1>was one action left that must be completed. Cully's arms moved.

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<v Speaker 1>They detached the small black box from his pack. He

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<v Speaker 1>moved on into the midst of the weaving gold laced plants.

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<v Speaker 1>Little spicules licked out from their flexing stalks and jabbed

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<v Speaker 1>uncensed into Cully's body. To draw nourishishment. From the many

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<v Speaker 1>thoughts came the sense of complete fulfillment from Cully's mind.

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<v Speaker 1>Came further orders. Lie down. It was a collective concept.

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<v Speaker 1>Lie still, we are friends. He could not understand. They

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<v Speaker 1>were speaking words, words were beyond him. His head shook

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<v Speaker 1>in despair. The voices were implanting an emotion of horror

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<v Speaker 1>at what his hands were doing. But he had no

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<v Speaker 1>control over his body. It was as if it were

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<v Speaker 1>not his. The black box was now lying in the

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<v Speaker 1>sand among the streaming plants. Cully's fingers reached out and

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<v Speaker 1>caressed a small panel. A soundless click ran through the murkiness.

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<v Speaker 1>The strangely beautiful gold laced blue plants began a writhing dance.

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<v Speaker 1>Their spicules withdrew and jabbed, withdrew and jabbed. A rending,

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<v Speaker 1>silent scream tore the quiet waters. No, they cried. It

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<v Speaker 1>was a negative command mixed in with the terrible screaming.

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<v Speaker 1>Turn it off, stop it, stop it, Cully tried to say,

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<v Speaker 1>but there were no words. He tried to cover his

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<v Speaker 1>ears within the helmet, but the cries went on. Emotions

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<v Speaker 1>roiled the water, pain, hurt, reproach. Cully sobbed. Something was

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<v Speaker 1>wrong here, something was killing the plants, the beautiful blue things.

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<v Speaker 1>The plants were withering, dying. He looked up at them, stupefied,

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<v Speaker 1>not understanding, tears streaming down his face. What did they

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<v Speaker 1>want from him? What had he done? Where is it?

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<v Speaker 1>A different direction materialized, a new concept of desire. Cully's

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<v Speaker 1>body turned and crawled away from the wonderful, dying garden,

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<v Speaker 1>oblivious to the pleadings floating now weakly in the torpid water.

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<v Speaker 1>He scuffed up little motes of golden sand, leaving a

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<v Speaker 1>low lying scud along the bottom, Back to the little

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<v Speaker 1>black box in the garden. The plants, the box all

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<v Speaker 1>were forgotten by now. Cully crawled on, not knowing why.

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<v Speaker 1>A rise appeared. Surprise caught Cully unaware, a change in

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<v Speaker 1>the sameness. Where is it again? The voice was insistent.

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<v Speaker 1>His desire was close ahead. He did not look back

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<v Speaker 1>at the black churning on the sea bottom. His legs worked,

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<v Speaker 1>his chest heaved, Words swirled in his mind. He topped

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<v Speaker 1>the rise below him, In the center of a shallow

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<v Speaker 1>golden bowl, floated a long, shiny cylinder. Even from here

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<v Speaker 1>he knew it was huge. He knew other things about it,

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<v Speaker 1>how heavy it was, how it was that it carried

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<v Speaker 1>others of his kind. He had been in it before,

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<v Speaker 1>and they were waiting for him. He lurched, on, Captain,

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<v Speaker 1>here comes Cully, the midshipman shouted from the airlock. Look

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<v Speaker 1>what they've done to him. The old man's gray eyes

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<v Speaker 1>took in the spectacle without visible emotion. He watched the pathetic, bleeding,

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<v Speaker 1>yellow plastic sack crawl up to the ship and look up.

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<v Speaker 1>His hands reached down and lifted Cully up into the lock.

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<v Speaker 1>They took his suit off and stared with loathing at

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<v Speaker 1>what had once been a man. A white scar zigzagged

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<v Speaker 1>across his forehead. The captain bent close in range of

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<v Speaker 1>the dim blue eyes. It was a very brave thing

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<v Speaker 1>you did, Cully. The whole system will be grateful. Venus

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<v Speaker 1>could never be colonized as long as those cannibals were

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<v Speaker 1>there to eat men and drive men mad. Cully fingered

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<v Speaker 1>the scar on his forehead and looked unseeing into the

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<v Speaker 1>old man's compassionate eyes. I'm sorry, Cully. We all are.

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<v Speaker 1>But there was no other way, prefrontal lobotomy, destruction of

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<v Speaker 1>your speech center. It was the only way you could

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<v Speaker 1>get past the telepass and destroy them. I'm sorry, Cully.

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<v Speaker 1>The race of men shall long honor your name. Cully

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<v Speaker 1>smiled at the old man, the words churning in his brain,

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<v Speaker 1>but he did not understand where is it? The emptiness

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<v Speaker 1>was still there. End of Cully by Jack Egan