of their recent healing. Baker allowed the speculation togo on without offering explanations. He let them tap and measure andapply electrical gadgets to their heart's content. It didn't bother thethinking he had to get done.
Fenwick and Ellerbee came back the next day to see him. The twoapproached the bed so warily that Baker burst out laughing. "Pull upchairs!" he exclaimed. "Just because you saw me looking a shade lessthan dead doesn't mean I'm a ghost now. Sit down. And where's Sam? Notthat I don't appreciate seeing your ugly faces, but Sam and I have gotsome things to talk about."
Ellerbee and Fenwick looked at each other as if each expected the otherto speak.
"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Baker. "Nothing's happened to Sam, Ihope!"
Fenwick spoke finally. "We don't know where Sam is. We don't think we'llbe seeing him again."
"Why not?" Baker demanded. But in the back of his mind was the growingsuspicion that he knew.
"After your--accident," said Fenwick, "I went back to the farm withEllerbee and Sam because I'd left my car there. I went back to bed totry to get some more shut-eye, but the storm had started up again andkept me awake. Just before dawn a terrific bolt of lightning seemed tostrike Sam's silo. Later, Jim went out to check on his cows and help hisman finish up the milking.
"By mid-morning we hadn't heard anything from Sam and decided to go overand talk to him about what we'd seen him do for you. I guess it waseleven by the time we got there."
... _Lightning doesn't strike up from inside a silo!That's something else_ ...]
Jim Ellerbee nodded agreement.
"When we got there," Fenwick went on, "we saw that the front door of thehouse was open as if the storm had blown it in. We called Sam, but hedidn't answer, so we went on in. Things were a mess. We thought it wasbecause of the storm, but then we saw that drawers and shelves seemed tohave been opened hastily and cleaned out. Some things had been droppedon the floor, but most of the stuff was just gone.
"It was that way all through the house. Sam's bed hadn't been disturbed.He had either not slept in it, or had gone to the trouble of making itup even though he left the rest of the house in a mess."
"Sounds like the place might have been broken into," said Baker. "Didn'tyou notify the sheriff?"
"Not after we'd seen what was outside, in back."
"What was that?"
"We wanted to see the silo after the lightning had struck it. Jim saidhe'd always been curious about that silo. It was one of the best in thecounty, but Sam never used it. He used a pit.
"When we went out, all the cows were bellowing. They hadn't been milked.Sam did all his own work. Jim called his own man to come and take careof Sam's cows. Then we had a close look at the silo. It had split like abanana peel opening up. It hardly seemed as if a bolt of lightning couldhave caused it. We climbed over the broken pieces to look inside. It wasstill warm in there. At least six hours after lightning--or whatever hadstruck it, the concrete was still warm. The bottom and several feet ofthe sides of the silo were covered with a glassy glaze."
"No lightning bolt did that."
"We know that now," said Fenwick. "But I had seen the flash of itmyself. Then I remembered that in my groggy condition that morningsomething had seemed wrong about that flash of lightning. Instead of ajagged tree of lightning that formed instantly, it had seemed like athin thread of light striking _upward_. I thought I must be gettingbleary-eyed and tried to forget it. In the silo, I remembered. I toldJim.
"We went back through the house once more. In Sam's bedroom, as ifaccidently dropped and kicked partway under the bed, I found this. Takea look!"
Fenwick held out a small book. It had covers and pages as did anyordinary book. But when Baker's fingers touched the book, somethingchilled his backbone.
The material had the feel and appearance of white leather--yet Baker hadthe insane impression that the cells of that leather still formed aliving substance. He opened the pages. Their substance was as foreign asthat of the cover. The message--printing, or whatever it might becalled--consisted of patterned rows of dots, pin-head size, in color. Itreminded him of computer tape cut to some character code. He had theimpression that an eye might scan those pages and react as swiftly as atape-fed computer.
Baker closed the book. "Nothing more?" he asked Fenwick.
"Nothing. We thought maybe you had found out something else when heworked to save your life."
* * * * *
Baker kept his eyes on the ceiling. "I found out a few things," he said."I could scarcely believe they were true. I have to believe afterhearing your story."
"What did you find?"
"Sam Atkins came from--somewhere else. He went back in the ship he hadhidden in the silo."
"Where did he come from? What was he doing here?"
"I don't know the name of the world he was from or where it is located.Somewhere in this galaxy, is about all I can deduce from my impressions.He was here on a scientific mission, a sociological study. He wasresponsible for the crystals. I suppose you know that by now?" Bakerglanced at Ellerbee.
Jim Ellerbee nodded. "I suspected for a long time that I was being led,but I couldn't understand it. I thought I was doing the research thatproduced the crystals, but Sam would drop a hint or a suggestion everyonce in a while, that would lead off on the right track and producesomething fantastic. He knew where we were going, ahead of time. He ledme to believe that we were exploring together. Do you know why he didthis?"
"Yes," said Baker. "It was part of his project. The project consisted ofa study of human reaction to scientific processes which our scientificculture considered impossible. He was interested in measuring ourflexibility and reaction to such introductions."
Baker smiled grimly. "We sure gave him his money's worth, didn't we! Wereally reacted when he brought out his little cubes. I'd like to readthe report he writes up!"
"Why did he leave so suddenly?" asked Fenwick. "Was he through?"
"No, that's the bad part of it. My reaction to the crystals was a shockthat sent me into a suicidal action--"
Fenwick stared at him, shocked. "You didn't--"
"But I did," said Baker calmly. "All very subconsciously, of course, butI did try to commit suicide. The crystals triggered it. I'll explain howin a minute, but since Sam Atkins was an ethical being he felt theresponsibility for what had happened to me. He had to reveal himself tothe extent of saving my life--and helping me to change so that thesuicidal drive would not appear again. He did this, but it revealed toomuch of himself and destroyed the chance of completing his program. Whenhe gets back home, he's really going to catch hell for lousing up theworks. It's too bad."
Jim Ellerbee let out a long breath. "Sam Atkins--somebody from anotherworld--it doesn't seem possible. What things he could have taught us ifhe'd stayed!"
Fenwick wondered why it had to have been Baker to receive thisknowledge. Baker, the High Priest of the Fixed Position, the ambassadorof Established Authority. Why couldn't Sam Atkins--or whatever his realname might be--have whispered just a few words of light to a man willingto listen and profit? His bowels felt sick with the impact ofopportunity forever lost.
* * * * *
"How did the crystals trigger a suicidal reaction?" asked Fenwickfinally, as if to make conversation more than anything else.
Baker's face seemed to glow. "That's the really important thing Ilearned from Sam. I learned that about me--about all of us. It's hard toexplain. I experienced it--but you can only hear about it."
"We're listening," said Fenwick dully.
"I saw a picture of a lathe in a magazine a few months ago," said Bakerslowly. "You can buy one of these lathes for $174,000, if you want one.It's a pretty fancy job. The lathe remembers what it does once, andafterwards can do it again without any instructions.
"The lathe has a magnetic tape memory. The operator cuts the first pieceon the lathe, and the tape records all the operations necessary for thatproduction. After that,
the operator needs only to insert the metalstock and press the start button.
"There could be a million memories in storage, and the lathe could drawon any one of them to repeat what it had done before at any time in itshistory."
"I don't see what this has got to do with Sam and you," said Fenwick.
Baker ignored him. "A long time ago a bit of life came into existence.It had no memory, because it was the first. But it faced the universeand made decisions. That's the difference between life and nonlife. Didyou know that,