Speaker 1: Cully by Jack Egan above him, eighty feet of torpid
Speaker 1: blackwater hung like a shroud of death. And still he
Speaker 1: heard his ragged breathing and something else. Colley concentrated on
Speaker 1: that sound and the rhythmic pulsing of his heart. Somehow
Speaker 1: he had to retain a hold on his sanity or
Speaker 1: his soul. After an hour of careful breathing and exploring
Speaker 1: of body sensations, Cully realized he could move. He flexed
Speaker 1: an arm a mode of gold sand sifted upward in
Speaker 1: dark water. It had a pleasant color in contrast with
Speaker 1: the ominous shades of the sea. In a few moments,
Speaker 1: he had struggled to a sitting position, delighting in the
Speaker 1: curtain of glittering metal grains swirling around him as he moved.
Speaker 1: And the other sound a humming in his mind, a
Speaker 1: distant burble of tiny voices of other minds, words swirling
Speaker 1: in giddy patterns he couldn't understand. Shortly thereafter, Cully discovered
Speaker 1: why he still lived. Breathed a suit, a yellow plastic
Speaker 1: watertight suit with an orange on black shield on the
Speaker 1: left breast pocket and a clear bubble helmet. He felt
Speaker 1: weight on his back and examined it. Two air tanks
Speaker 1: and their regulator, a radio and the box suit tanks regulator, radio,
Speaker 1: blackwater box, sand sea stillness. Colley considered his world. It
Speaker 1: was small, it was conceivable, it was incomplete. Where is it?
Speaker 1: Where's what? He knew? He had a voice, means of
Speaker 1: communication between others of his kind using low frequency heat
Speaker 1: waves caused by agitation of air molecules. Why couldn't he
Speaker 1: make it work? Words thousands of him at his beck
Speaker 1: and call? What were they? What did they mean? He shoff?
Speaker 1: He shifted uncomfortably in the tight yellow suit and searching
Speaker 1: the near horizon for where is it? A vague calling
Speaker 1: came from beyond the black sea curtain. Objectively, because he
Speaker 1: could do nothing to stop them. He watched his seat
Speaker 1: his feet pick up, move forward, put down, pick up,
Speaker 1: move forward, put down. Funny. He had the feeling the
Speaker 1: concept that this action held, meaning it was supposed to
Speaker 1: cause some reaction, accomplish an act. He wondered at the
Speaker 1: regular movement of his legs, one of them hurt. A
Speaker 1: heart is a sensation of pain caused by overloading sensory
Speaker 1: units in the body. A heart is bad because it
Speaker 1: indicates something is wrong. Something certainly was wrong. Something stirred
Speaker 1: in Cully's mind. He stopped and sat down on the
Speaker 1: sandy sea bottom, gracefully like a ballet dancer. He examined
Speaker 1: his foot. There's a tiny hole in the yellow plastic fabric,
Speaker 1: and a thin string of red black was oozing out blood.
Speaker 1: He knew he was bleeding. He could do nothing about it.
Speaker 1: He got up and resumed walking. Where is it? Colly
Speaker 1: lifted his head into annoyance at the sharp thought. Go away,
Speaker 1: he said, in a low, pleading voice. The sound made
Speaker 1: him feel better. He began muttering to himself, water, black, sand, heart, pain,
Speaker 1: radio tanks. It didn't sound right. After a few minutes
Speaker 1: he was quiet. The many thoughts were calling him. He
Speaker 1: must go to the many thoughts. If his foot was bleeding,
Speaker 1: then something had happened. If something had happened, then his
Speaker 1: foot was bleeding. No. If something had happened, then maybe
Speaker 1: other things had happened before that. But how could something
Speaker 1: happen in a world of flat gold sand and flaccid sea.
Speaker 1: Surely there was something wrong wrong, the state of being
Speaker 1: not right. Something had happened that was not right. Culli
Speaker 1: stared at the edges of the unmoving curtain before him.
Speaker 1: Where is it? It was a driving, promise filled concept,
Speaker 1: no words, just the sense that something wonderful lay just
Speaker 1: beyond reach. But this voice was different from the many
Speaker 1: thoughts it was directing his body. His mind was along
Speaker 1: for the ride. The sameness of the sea and sand
Speaker 1: became on bearable. It was too right. Somehow, Cully felt
Speaker 1: anger and kicked up eddies of dust. It changed the
Speaker 1: sameness a little. He kicked more up until it swirled
Speaker 1: around him, a thick gold haze blotting out the terrible
Speaker 1: emptiness of the sea. He felt another weight at his side.
Speaker 1: He found a holster and a gun. He recognized neither
Speaker 1: again he watched. He watched objectively as his hand pulled
Speaker 1: the black object out and handled it. His body was
Speaker 1: evidently familiar with it, though it was strange to his eyes.
Speaker 1: His fingers slipped automatically into the trigger sheath. His legs
Speaker 1: were still working under two drives. The many thoughts urging,
Speaker 1: and something else buried in him, a longing up and down,
Speaker 1: back and forth. Where is it? Anger? Frustration flared in him.
Speaker 1: His hand shot out gun it ready. He turned around
Speaker 1: slowly through the settling trail of suspended sand. Nothing was
Speaker 1: visible again. He was moving. Something made his legs move.
Speaker 1: He walked on through the shrouds of death until he
Speaker 1: felt a taut singing in his nerves. An irrational fear
Speaker 1: sprang out in him, cascading down his spine, and Cully
Speaker 1: shuddered ahead. There was some thing. Two motives. Get there
Speaker 1: because it, they calls, Get there, because you must. Where
Speaker 1: is it? The mind voice was excited, demanding something was
Speaker 1: out there besides the sameness. Cully walked on, trailing gold.
Speaker 1: The death curtain parted, an undulating garden of blue and gold.
Speaker 1: Streamers suddenly drifted toward him on an unfelt current. Cully
Speaker 1: was held entranced. They flowed before him, their colors dazzling, hypnotic,
Speaker 1: come closer, earthling. The many thoughts spoke inside his head, soothingly,
Speaker 1: Here it is Cully's mind, and shouted. Kully's mind was
Speaker 1: held hypnotized, but his body moved of its own volition.
Speaker 1: He moved again. His mind and the many thoughts spoke fulfillment.
Speaker 1: Almost there was one action left that must be completed.
Speaker 1: Kullay's arms moved. They detached the small black box from
Speaker 1: his belt. He moved on into the midst of the
Speaker 1: weaving gold laced plants. Little spicules licked out from their
Speaker 1: flexing stalks and jabbed uncensed into Kully's body. To draw
Speaker 1: nourishment from the many thoughts came the sense of complete
Speaker 1: fulfillment from Kelly's mind. Came further orders. Lie down. It
Speaker 1: was a collective concept. Lie still, we are friends. He
Speaker 1: could not understand. There were speaking words, words were beyond him.
Speaker 1: His head shook in despair. The voices were implanting in
Speaker 1: a motion of horror at what his hands were doing.
Speaker 1: But he had no control over his body. It was
Speaker 1: as if it were not his. The black box was
Speaker 1: now lying in the sand among the streaming plants. Cully's
Speaker 1: fingers reached out and caressed a small panel. A soundless
Speaker 1: click ran through the murkiness. The strangely beautiful gold laced
Speaker 1: blue plants began a writhing dance. Their spicules withdrew and jabbed,
Speaker 1: withdrew and jabbed. A rending, silent scream tore the quiet waters. No,
Speaker 1: they cried. It was a negative command mixed in with
Speaker 1: the terrible screaming. Turn it off, stop it, stop it.
Speaker 1: Kully tried to say, but there were no words. He
Speaker 1: tried to cover his ears within the helmet, but the
Speaker 1: cries went on. Emotions roiled the water, pain, hurt, reproach.
Speaker 1: Cully sobbed. Something was wrong here, something was killing the plants,
Speaker 1: the beautiful blue things. The plants were withering, dying. He
Speaker 1: looked up at them, stupefied, not understanding. Tea streaming down
Speaker 1: his face. And what did they want from him? What
Speaker 1: had he done? Where is it? A different direction materialized,
Speaker 1: a new concept of desire. Cully's body turned and crawled
Speaker 1: away from the wonderful, dying garden, oblivious to the pleadings
Speaker 1: floating now weakly in the torpid water. He scuffed, He
Speaker 1: scuffed up little motes of golden sand, leaving a low
Speaker 1: lying scud along the bottom, Back to the little black
Speaker 1: box in the garden. The plants, the box all were
Speaker 1: forgotten by now. Cully crawled on, not knowing why. A
Speaker 1: rise appeared. Surprise caught Kully unaware, a change in the sameness.
Speaker 1: Where is it again? The voice was insistent, His desire
Speaker 1: was close ahead. He did not look back at the
Speaker 1: black churning on the sea bottom. His legs worked, his chest,
Speaker 1: heaved words swirled in his mind. He topped the rise
Speaker 1: below him. In the center of a shallow golden bowl,
Speaker 1: floated a long, shiny cylinder. Even from here he knew
Speaker 1: what it was huge. He knew other things about it,
Speaker 1: how heavy it was, how it was that it carried
Speaker 1: others of his kind. He had been in it before,
Speaker 1: and they were waiting for him. He lurched, on, Captain,
Speaker 1: here comes Cully. The midshipman shouted from the airlock. Look
Speaker 1: what they've done to him. The old man's gray eyes
Speaker 1: took in the spectacle without visible emotion. He watched the pathetic, bleeding,
Speaker 1: yellow plastic sack crawl up to the ship and look up.
Speaker 1: His hands reached down and lifted Cully up into the lock.
Speaker 1: They took his suit off and stared with loathing at
Speaker 1: what had once been a man. A white scar zigzagged
Speaker 1: across his forehead. The captain bent close in range of
Speaker 1: the dim blue eyes. It was a brave thing you did, Cully.
Speaker 1: The whole system will be grateful. Venus could never be
Speaker 1: colonized as long as those cannibals were there to eat
Speaker 1: men and drive men mad. Cully fingered the scar on
Speaker 1: his forehead and looked unseen into the old man's compassionate eyes.
Speaker 1: I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Cully. We all are. But there
Speaker 1: was no other way, prefrontal lobotomy, destruction of your speech center.
Speaker 1: It was the only way you could get past the
Speaker 1: telepaths and destroy them. I'm sorry, Cully. The race of
Speaker 1: man shall long honor your name. Cully smiled at the
Speaker 1: old man, the words churning in his brain, but he
Speaker 1: did not understand. Where is it? The emptiness was still there,
Speaker 1: and of Cully by Jack Egan