12
A second shock, powerfully magnified, hit him then. Because he waspersonally involved?
For what seemed an interminable time, Cal's mind ceased to functionrationally, and like an animal suddenly faced with the unknown he froze,shrank within himself, stood motionless. Yet far down within his mind,there was still detached observation, as if a part of him were removedfrom all this, still in the role of disinterested observer.
The crew behind him was likewise frozen in tableau. And the colonists infront of him. A balance in number, with himself in between, a stillpicture from a modernist ballet.
Or a charade. Guess what this is!
He felt laughter bubbling to his lips, recognized it for the beginningof hysteria, and the impulse was washed away.
With that portion of detached curiosity he watched his mind functioning,darting frantically here and there for rational explanation, andmomentarily taking refuge in irrationality. It was all being done withtrick photography! Such a sudden transition could take place in a motionpicture, a transition from reality into a dream sequence lying discardedon the cutting-room floor.
Reversion to the primitive, accounting for the phenomena by devising amind more powerful than his own. The childhood view of the omnipotentparent, reality's disillusionment, the parent substitute, the creationof a god in his parent's image without the weakness of his parent, sothat he might go on in perpetual irresponsibility since he could nowplace responsibility outside himself.
Or this was a fairy story in which he lived. This was the spell ofenchantment. This was magic. And at the first concept of magic, thefirst lesson of E sharpened into focus once more.
"Anything is magic if you don't understand how it happens, and scienceif you do."
In that odd, detached portion of his mind he deliberately used thestatement as a foundation. Upon it he reconstructed the science of E.The universe and all in it is logical, logical at least to man becausehe is part of that universe, of its essence. There can be nothing in theuniverse that is wrong, or out of place, except and only as the limitedinterpretation of man who sees a force in terms of a threat to theascendancy of himself-and-his at the center of things. This is the solebasis of morality, and prevents man's appreciation of total reality.
He had been trapped in the first concept, and was accepting thesephenomena as a statement of Eminent Authority. But what if this were notthe whole of reality, what then?
Once begun, his mind progressed rapidly through the seven stages of Escience, and in the seventh he found rationality. If there is only onenatural law, and we see it only in seemingly unrelated facets because ofour ignorance, because we cannot apperceive the whole, then this, too,is no more than another facet.
Perhaps it was this which broke the spell. Perhaps it was the movementof the colonists. They were moving, withdrawing, walking backward stepby step. Their faces were masks of despair, and in them Cal read theknowledge that what had just happened to him, his men, his ship, hadpreviously happened to them.
Slowly they backed away, backed out of the open space, sought theshelter of a great and spreading tree at the edge of the clearing. Therethey paused.
It was a return to ballet, a gravely executed change in the proportionsof the tableau. They stood, a drooped and huddled group, coweringbeneath the tree, in nude dejection, in the suggestion of a wary crouch,uncertain whether to flee precipitously, or freeze to make themselves assmall and inconspicuous as possible.
In the same grave choreography he turned to look at his crew. And at theturning, as if on signal, on musical cue, Tom and Frank began thepantomime of urging Louie to his feet. Louie looked at the two standingmen alternately. With bloodless lips he tried to grin wryly,apologetically, for what his nervous system was doing to his bodyagainst his will.
The old flash of an expression which seemed to say, "This is just thekind of dirty trick life always plays on me," came back into his eyesfor an instant, and he tried to grin. But the attempt was a grimace ofterror. He cowered back down at their feet, his courage swamped in funk.
"Let's get him under the tree," Cal said, and wondered why he had spokenin such a low voice, almost a whisper. That, too, was a part of theclassical pattern of fear, to make no noise. As was getting him underthe tree, an animal's instinct to hide from the eyes of the unknown.
As the four of them approached the tree, with Tom and Frankhalf-carrying, half-dragging Louie--and he still trying to make his legsbehave, support him--the colonists made a fluttering movement ofuncertainty, as if to bolt, to run in panic, farther and farther backinto sheltering protection of the deep forest.
But they stood their ground, in acceptance. The seven men came togetherunder the protecting branches of the tree. Protection? From what?
Louie sank down gratefully, and clutched the trunk of the tree, as if,on a high place, he feared falling.
"Sorry," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Just can't help it."
One of the colonists answered first, the tall, leather-faced,spare-framed one. Stamped on his face was his origin, the imperishableimpression of the West Texan, grown up in a harsh land that can be maderesponsive to man's needs only through strength, his will to surviveagainst all odds.
"It figgers," the man said in his quiet drawl. "We've all been like thatfor days, maybe a week or more. Lost count. You're doin' all right.Better than some."
Cal drew a deep breath, consciously squared his shoulders, fought offthe urge to like dejection.
"Then everybody's still alive?" he asked.
"Oh yeah, sure. Nobody's kill't. Just hidin' out in the woods, andmostly from each other. It's a turrible thing." He looked down athimself with a wry grimace. "Not outta shame," he added. "We've seennaked bodies before. Just plumb scared, I guess."
To talk, to hear himself talking, and that to strangers, to tellsomebody about it, seemed to restore some confidence in himself.Something of quiet dignity came back over him, a knowledge ofresponsibility for leadership. He straightened, as if silently remindinghimself that he was a man.
"I'm Jed Dawkins," he said. "Sort of the kingpin of the colony, I reckonyou might say. Mayor of Appletree, or what was Appletree. I don'trightly know if I'm mayor of anything now. This here is Ahmed Hussein,and this miserable hunk o' man is Dirk Van Tassel. Manner of speakin',"he amended. "He ain't no more miserable than the rest of us."
"I'm Calvin Gray," Cal answered. He indicated his crew. "This is TomLynwood, Frank Norton, Louie LeBeau. They're all good men. Just underthe weather right now."
"You should'a seen us when it first happened," Jed said with feeling. "Ireckon you're the E? Come to find out why we didn't communicate?" Hespread his open hands and waved them to indicate the area around him."Now you see why we didn't. Hollerin' loud as we could wouldn't do thejob, and that's all we got left."
Somehow the introductions relaxed them all a little, as if the familiarformality provided some kind of normalcy in an incredible situation.
"Don't seem right hospitable, just standin' here," Jed added with ashrug. "But there ain't no house, nor camp, nor fire to share with you."
"We're not suffering at the moment, except mentally," Cal reassured him.Involuntarily he glanced up at the spreading branches of the tree, as ifto reassure himself also; then grinned in self-consciousness at thepantomime of fear. "First thing is to find out what happened."
"Might as well hunker down right here on the ground," Jed said. "Oneplace is good as another right now."
The men all crouched or sat on the dead leaves which carpeted theground. Cal suddenly realized he was glad to take the strain from hislegs, as if he had been maintaining stance through sheer will.
"It is a poor greeting to visitors from home," Ahmed spoke up, thencleared his voice in surprise to hear himself speaking. "We cannot evenprovide a cup of coffee."
"Cain't have no fire," Dawkins explained. "See?"
He picked up two dead twigs laying on the ground near him. He beganrubbing them together, in the ancient way of creatin
g fire. The twosticks flew apart and out of his hands.
"Try it," he invited Cal.
Curious, even unbelieving, Cal picked up two broken branches. He startedto rub them together. He felt them twisted, wrenched, and pulled out ofhis hands. He saw them flying through the air with a force he had notprovided. He got up, picked them up again, sat back down, and held thesticks very tightly in his hands. He tried to bring them together.Suddenly, he simply lost interest.
"Oh to hell with it," he said unexpectedly, and dropped the sticks. Hisastonishment at himself was a shock.
There was a kind of chuckle from Van Tassel, one without mirth. "Kind ofgets you, doesn't it?" he said.
Cal looked at his hands, and at the sticks laying beside him.
"Now why would I do that?" he asked. "All at once it seemed unimportantto start a fire, or even try. What's happened here? What's been goingon?"
"Cain't explain it," Dawkins said. "Sort of hoped you bein' an E, andall ..."
"Maybe if you told me just what happened, started at the beginning wheneverything was normal...."
"Something else you should tell him, Jed," Ahmed spoke up. He looked atCal, and explained himself. "We don't think easily," he added. "Can'tkeep our minds on anything for more than a minute or so. In fact, I'm alittle surprised that we've been able to carry on the conversation thislong. From the way we've been behaving, I would have expected more thatwe'd have wandered away back into the woods before now--simply left youto your own devices without interest in you. Strange."
"Yeah," Jed confirmed, "I was thinkin' that, too. Funny thing. Right nowI feel like I could tell the whole yarn. I feel like ... Well, while I'min the mood I'd better git it said. Don't know how long I can keepinterested.
"Well, there we were, one day, seems like it ought to be about a weekago, give or take a couple of days. Anyway, I remember it was aroundnoon...."