ears it was scarcely recognizable. “I vote formally that we employ all our resources in an effort to reconquer Gandhitown. We should make our stand there.” Right in the middle of the heaps of garbage, animal manure and rusting machinery, he said to himself, and winced.
After a pause Annette said, “I—second the motion.”
The vote was taken. Only Howard Straw voted against it. So the motion carried.
“Straw,” Annette said briskly, “you’re instructed to produce these miracle weapons you’ve been bragging about. Since you Manses are so militant we’ll let you lead the attack to retake Gandhitown.” To Gabriel Baines she said, “And you Pares can organize it.” She seemed quite calm, now that it had all been decided.
Softly, Ingred Hibbler said to Straw, “I might point out that if the war is fought near and in Gandhitown, damage will not occur to the other settlements. Had you thought of that?”
“Imagine fighting in Gandhitown,” Straw muttered. “Wading around waist-deep in—” He broke off. To Jacob Simion and Omar Diamond he said, “We’ll need all the Skitz and Heeb saints, visionaries, miracle-workers and just plain Psis we can get; will your settlements produce them and let us employ them?”
“I think so,” Diamond said. Simion nodded.
“Between the miracle weapons from Da Vinci Heights and the talents of the Heeb and Skitz saints,” Annette said, “we should be able to offer more than token resistance.”
Miss Hibbler said, “If we could get the full names of the invaders we could cast numerological charts of them, discover their weak points. Or if we had their exact birthdates—”
“I think,” Annette interrupted, “that the weapons of the Manses, plus the organizing powers of the Pares, in conjunction with the Heeb and Skitz unnaturals, will be somewhat more useful.”
“Thank you,” Jacob Simion said, “for not sacrificing Gandhitown.” He gazed in mute appreciation at Gabriel Baines.
For the first time in months, perhaps even years,Baines felt his defenses melt; he enjoyed—briefly—a sense of relaxation, of near-euphoria. Someone liked him. And even if it was only a Heeb it meant a lot.
It reminded him of his childhood. Before he had found the Pare solution.
SEVEN
Walking along the muddy, rubbish-heaped central street of Gandhitown, Dr. Mary Rittersdorf said, “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. Clinically it’s mad. These people must all be hebephrenics. Terribly, terribly deteriorated.” Inside her something cried at her to
get out
, to leave this place and never return. To get back to Terra and her profession as marriage counselor and forget she had ever seen this.
And the idea of attempting psychotherapy with these people—
She shuddered. Even drug-therapy and electroshock would be of little use, here. This was the tail-end of mental illness, the point of no return.
Beside her the young CIA agent, Dan Mageboom, said, “Your diagnosis, then, is hebephrenia? I can report that back officially?” Taking her by the arm he assisted her over the remains of some major animal carcass; in the mid-day sun the ribs stuck up like tines of a great curved fork.
Mary said, “Yes, it’s obvious. Did you see the pieces of dead rat lying strewn around the door of that shack? I’m sick; I’m actually sick to my stomach. No one lives that way now. Not even in India and China. It’s like going back four thousand years; that’s theway Sinanthropus and Neanderthal must have lived. Only without the rusted machinery.”
“At the ship,” Mageboom said, “we can have a drink.”
“No drink is going to help me,” Mary said. “You know what this awful place reminds me of? The horrible shoddy old conapt my husband moved into when we separated.”
Beside her Mageboom started, blinked.
“You knew I was married,” Mary said. “I told you.” She wondered why her remark had surprised him, so; on the trip she had freely discussed her marital
After a pause Annette said, “I—second the motion.”
The vote was taken. Only Howard Straw voted against it. So the motion carried.
“Straw,” Annette said briskly, “you’re instructed to produce these miracle weapons you’ve been bragging about. Since you Manses are so militant we’ll let you lead the attack to retake Gandhitown.” To Gabriel Baines she said, “And you Pares can organize it.” She seemed quite calm, now that it had all been decided.
Softly, Ingred Hibbler said to Straw, “I might point out that if the war is fought near and in Gandhitown, damage will not occur to the other settlements. Had you thought of that?”
“Imagine fighting in Gandhitown,” Straw muttered. “Wading around waist-deep in—” He broke off. To Jacob Simion and Omar Diamond he said, “We’ll need all the Skitz and Heeb saints, visionaries, miracle-workers and just plain Psis we can get; will your settlements produce them and let us employ them?”
“I think so,” Diamond said. Simion nodded.
“Between the miracle weapons from Da Vinci Heights and the talents of the Heeb and Skitz saints,” Annette said, “we should be able to offer more than token resistance.”
Miss Hibbler said, “If we could get the full names of the invaders we could cast numerological charts of them, discover their weak points. Or if we had their exact birthdates—”
“I think,” Annette interrupted, “that the weapons of the Manses, plus the organizing powers of the Pares, in conjunction with the Heeb and Skitz unnaturals, will be somewhat more useful.”
“Thank you,” Jacob Simion said, “for not sacrificing Gandhitown.” He gazed in mute appreciation at Gabriel Baines.
For the first time in months, perhaps even years,Baines felt his defenses melt; he enjoyed—briefly—a sense of relaxation, of near-euphoria. Someone liked him. And even if it was only a Heeb it meant a lot.
It reminded him of his childhood. Before he had found the Pare solution.
SEVEN
Walking along the muddy, rubbish-heaped central street of Gandhitown, Dr. Mary Rittersdorf said, “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. Clinically it’s mad. These people must all be hebephrenics. Terribly, terribly deteriorated.” Inside her something cried at her to
get out
, to leave this place and never return. To get back to Terra and her profession as marriage counselor and forget she had ever seen this.
And the idea of attempting psychotherapy with these people—
She shuddered. Even drug-therapy and electroshock would be of little use, here. This was the tail-end of mental illness, the point of no return.
Beside her the young CIA agent, Dan Mageboom, said, “Your diagnosis, then, is hebephrenia? I can report that back officially?” Taking her by the arm he assisted her over the remains of some major animal carcass; in the mid-day sun the ribs stuck up like tines of a great curved fork.
Mary said, “Yes, it’s obvious. Did you see the pieces of dead rat lying strewn around the door of that shack? I’m sick; I’m actually sick to my stomach. No one lives that way now. Not even in India and China. It’s like going back four thousand years; that’s theway Sinanthropus and Neanderthal must have lived. Only without the rusted machinery.”
“At the ship,” Mageboom said, “we can have a drink.”
“No drink is going to help me,” Mary said. “You know what this awful place reminds me of? The horrible shoddy old conapt my husband moved into when we separated.”
Beside her Mageboom started, blinked.
“You knew I was married,” Mary said. “I told you.” She wondered why her remark had surprised him, so; on the trip she had freely discussed her marital
Similar Books
