Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

VIP免费

2024-12-14 0 0 325.55KB 115 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

Alfred Bester. The Demolished Man

Alfred Bester

The Demolished Man

1951

-------------------

Explosion! Concussion! The vault doors burst open. And deep inside,

the money is racked ready for pillage, rapine, loot. Who's that? Who's

inside the vault? Oh God! The Man With No Face! Looking. Looming. Silent.

Horrible. Run... Run...

Run, or I'll miss the Paris Pneumatique and that exquisite girl with

her flower face and figure of passion. There's time if I run. But that

isn't the Guard before the gate. Oh Christ! The Man With No Face. Looking.

Looming. Silent. Don't scream. Stop screaming...

But I'm not screaming. I'm singing on a stage of sparkling marble

while the music soars and the lights burn. But there's no one out there in

the amphitheater. A great shadowed pit... empty except for one spectator.

Silent. Staring. Looming. The Man With No Face.

And this time his scream had sound.

Ben Reich awoke.

He lay quietly in the hydropatlhic bed while his heart shuddered and

his eyes focused at random on in the room, simulating a calm he could not

feel. The walls of green jade, the nightlight in the porcelain mandarin

whose head nodded interminably if you touched him, the multi-clock that

radiated the time of three planets and six satellites, the bed itself, a

crystal pool flowing with carbonated glycerine at ninety-nine point nine

Fahrenheit.

The door opened softly and Jonas appeared in the gloom, a shadow in

puce sleeping suit, a shade with the face of a horse and the bearing of an

undertaker.

"Again?" Reich asked.

"Yes, Mr. Reich."

"Loud?"

"Very loud, sir. And terrified."

"God damn your jackass cars," Reich growled. "I'm never afraid."

"No, sir."

"Get out."

"Yes, sir. Good night, sir." Jonas stepped back and closed the door.

Reich shouted: "Jonas!"

The valet reappeared.

"Sorry, Jonas."

"Quite all right, sir."

"It isn't all right," Reich charmed him with a smile. "I'm treating

you like a relative. I don't pay enough for the privilege."

"Oh no, sir."

"Next time I yell at you, yell right back. Why should I have all the

fun?"

"Oh, Mr. Reich..."

"Do that and you get a raise." The smile again.

"That's all, Jonas. Thank you."

"Thank you, sir." The valet withdrew.

Reich arose from the bed and toweled himself before the cheval mirror,

practicing the smile. "Make your enemies by choice," he muttered, "not by

accident." He stared at the reflection: the heavy shoulders, narrow flanks,

long corded legs... the sleek head with wide eyes, chiseled nose, small

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (1 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:01 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

sensitive mouth scarred by implacability.

"Why?" he asked. "I wouldn't change looks with the devil. I wouldn't

change places with God. Why the screaming?"

He put on a gown and glanced at the clock, unaware that he was noting

the time panorama of the solar system with an unconscious skill that would

have baffled his ancestors. The dials read:

A.D. 2301

VENUS EARTH MARS

Mean Solar Day 22 February 15 Duodecember 35

Noon + 09 0205 Greenwich 2220 Central Syrtis

MOON IO GANYMEDE CALLISTO TITAN TRITON

2D3H 1D1H 6D8H 13D12H 15D3H 4D9H

(eclipsed) (transit)

Night, noon, summer, winter... without bothering to think, Reich could

have rattled off the time and season for any meridian on any body in the

solar system. Here in New York it was a bitter morning after a bitter night

of dreaming. He would give himself a few minutes of analysis with the Esper

psychiatrist he retained. The screaming had to stop.

"E for Esper," he muttered. "Esper for Extra Sensory Perception... For

Telepaths, Mind Readers, Brain Peepers. You'd think a mind-reading doctor

could stop the screaming. You'd think an Esper M.D. would earn his money

and peep inside your head and stop the screaming. Those damned mindreaders

are supposed to be the greatest advance since Homo sapiens evolved. E for

Evolution. Bastards! E for Exploitation!"

He yanked open the door, shaking with fury.

"But I'm not afraid!" he shouted. "I'm never afraid."

He stepped down the corridor, clacking his sandals sharply on the

silver floor, ke-tat-ke-tat-ke-tat-ke-tat, indifferent to the slumber of

his house staff, unaware that this early morning skeletal clack awakened

twelve hearts to hatred and dread. He thrust open the door of his analyst's

suite, entered and at once lay down on the couch.

Carson Breen, Esper Medical Doctor 2, was already awake and ready for

him. As Reich's staff analyst he slept the "nurse's sleep" in which he

remained en rapport with his patient and could only be awakened by his

needs. That one scream had been enough for Breen. Now he was seated

alongside the couch, elegant in embroidered gown (his job paid twenty

thousand credits a year) and sharply alert (his employer was generous but

demanding).

"Go ahead, Mr. Reich."

"The Man With No Face again," Reich growled.

"Nightmares?"

"You lousy blood-sucker, peep me and find out. No. Sorry. Childish of

me. Yes, nightmares again. I was trying to rob a bank. Then I was trying to

catch a train. Then someone was singing. Me, I think. I'm trying to give

you the pictures best I can. I don't think I'm leaving anything out..."

There was a long pause. Finally Reich blurted: "Well? You peep anything?"

"You persist that you cannot identify The Man With No Face, Mr.

Reich?"

"How can I? I never see it. All I know is..."

"I think you can. You simply will not."

"Listen," Reich burst out in guilty rage. "I pay you twenty thousand.

If the best you can do is make idiotic statements..."

"Do you mean that, Mr. Reich, or is it simply a part of the general

anxiety syndrome?"

"There is no anxiety," Reich shouted. "I'm not afraid. I'm never..."

He stopped himself, realizing the inutility of ranting while the deft mind

of the peeper searched underneath his overturning words. "You're wrong

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (2 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

anyway," he said sulkily. "I don't know who it is. It's a Man With No Face.

That's all."

"You've been rejecting the essential points, Mr. Reich. You must be

made to see them. We'll try a little free association. Without words,

please. Just think. Robbery...

"Jewels - watches - diamonds - stocks - bonds - sovereigns -

counterfeiting - cash - bullion - dort..."

"What was that last again?"

"Slip of the mind. Meant to think bort... uncut, gem stones."

"It was not a slip. It was a significant correction or, rather,

alteration. Let's continue. Pneumatique..."

"Long - car - compartments - air - conditioned... That doesn't make

sense."

"It does, Mr. Reich. A phallic pun. Read `Heir' for `air' and you'll

see it. Continue, please."

"You peepers are too damned smart. Let's see. Pneumatique... train -

underground - compressed air - ultra sonic speed---`We transport You Into

transports,' slogan of the---What the devil is the name of that company?

Can't remember. Where'd the notion come from anyway?"

"From the pre-conscious, Mr. Reich. One more trial and you'll begin to

understand. Amphitheater...

"Seats - pits - balcony - boxes - stalls - horse stalls - Martian

horses - Martian Pampas..."

"And there you have it, Mr. Reich. Mars. In the past six months,

you've had ninety-seven nightmares about The Man With No Face. He's been

your constant enemy, frustrator, and inspirer of terror in dreams that

contain three common denominators... Finance, Transportation, and Mars.

Over and over again... The Man With No Face, and Finance, Transportation,

and Mars."

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"It must mean something, Mr. Reich. You must be able to identify this

terrifying figure. Why else would you attempt to escape by rejecting his

face?"

"I'm not rejecting anything."

"I offer as further clues the altered word `Dort' and the forgotten

name of the company that coined the slogan `We Transport You Into---' "

"I tell you I don't know who it is." Reich arose abruptly from the

couch. "Your clues don't help. I can't make any identification."

"The Man With No Face does not fill you with fear because he's

faceless. You know who he is. You hate him and fear him, but you know who

he is."

"You're the peeper. You tell me. "

"There's a limit to my ability, Mr. Reich. I can read your mind no

deeper without help."

"What do you mean, help? You're the best E.M.D. I could hire. If..."

"You're neither thinking nor meaning that, Mr. Reich. You deliberately

hired a 2nd Class Esper in order to protect yourself in such an emergency.

Now you're paying the price of your caution. If you want the screaming to

stop, you'll have to consult one of the 1st Class men... Say, Augustus Tate

or Gart or Samuel @kins..."

"I'll think about it," Reich muttered and turned to go. As he opened

the door, Breen called: "By the way... `We Transport You Into Transports'

is the slogan of the D'Courtney Cartel. How does that tie in with the

alteration of `bort' to `dort'? Think it over."

"The Man With No Face!"

Without staggering, Reich slammed the door across the path from his

mind to Breen and then lurched down the corridor toward his own suite. A

wave of savage hatred burst over him. "He's right. It's D'Courtney who's

giving me the screams. Not because I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of myself.

Known all along. Known it deep down inside. Known that once I faced it I'd

have to kill that D'Courtney bastard. It's no face because it's the face of

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (3 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

murder."

Fully dressed and in his wrong mind, Reich stormed out of his

apartment and descended to the street where a Monarch Jumper picked him up

and carried him in one graceful hop to the giant tower that housed the

hundreds of floors and thousands of employees of Monarch's New York Office.

Monarch Tower was the central nervous system of an incredibly vast

corporation, a pyramid of transportation, communication, heavy industry,

manufacture, sales distribution, research, exploration, importation.

Monarch Utilities & Resources, Inc. bought and sold, traded and gave, made

and destroyed. Its pattern of subsidiaries and holding companies was so

complex that it demanded the full-time services of a 2nd Class Esper

Accountant to trace the labyrinthine flow of its finances.

Reich entered his office, followed by his chief (Esper 3) secretary

and her staff, bearing the litter of the morning's work.

"Dump it and jet," he growled.

They deposited the papers and recording crystals on his desk and

departed hastily but without rancor. They were accustomed to his rages.

Reich seated himself behind his desk, trembling with a fury that was

already goring D'Courtney. Finally he muttered: "I'll give the bastard one

more chance."

He unlocked his desk, opened the drawer-safe and withdrew the

Executive's Code Book, restricted to the executive heads of the firms

listed quadruple A-1-* by Lloyds. He found most of the material he required

in the middle pages of the book:

QQBA ........ PARTNERSHIP

RRCB ........ BOTH OUR

SSDC ........ BOTH YOUR

TTED ........ MERGER

UUFE ........ INTERESTS

VVGF ........ INFORMATION

WWHG ........ ACCEPT OFFER

XXJH ........ GENERALLY KNOWN

YYJI ........ SUGGEST

ZZXJ ........ CONFIDENTIAL

AALK ........ EQUAL

BBML ........ CONTRACT

Marking his place in the code book, Reich flipped the v-phone on and

said to the image of the interoffice operator: "Get me Code."

The screen dazzled and cut to a smokey room cluttered with books and

coils of tape. A bleached man in a faded shirt glanced at the screen, then

leaped to attention.

"Yes, Mr. Reich?"

"Morning, Hassop. You look like you need a vacation." Make your

enemies by choice. "Take a week at Spaceland. Monarch expense."

"Thank you, Mr. Reich. Thank you very much."

"This one's confidential. To Craye D'Courtney. Send..." Reich

consulted the Code Book. "Send YYJI TTED RRCB UUFE AALK QQBA. Get the

answer to me like rockets. Right?"

"Right, Mr. Reich. I'll jet."

Reich cut off the phone. He jabbed his hand once into the pile of

papers and crystals on his desk, picked up a crystal and dropped it into

the play-back. His chief secretary's voice said: "Monarch Gross off two

points one one three four per cent. D'Courtney Gross up two point one one

three oh per cent..."

"God damn him!" Reich growled. "Out of my pocket into his." He snapped

off the play-back and arose in an agony of impatience. It would take hours

for the reply to come. His whole life hung on D'Courtney's reply. He left

his office and began to roam through the floors and departments of Monarch

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (4 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

Tower, pretending the remorseless personal supervision he usually

exercised. His Esper secretary unobtrusively accompanied him like a trained

dog.

"Trained bitch!" Reich thought. Then aloud: "I'm sorry. Did you peep

that?"

"Quite all right, Mr. Reich. I understand."

"Do you? I don't. Damn D'Courtney!"

In Personnel they were testing, checking, and screening the usual mass

of job applicants... clerks, craftsmen, specialists, middle bracket

executives, top echelon experts. All of the preliminary elimination was

done with standardized tests and interviews, and never to the satisfaction

of Monarch's Esper Personnel Chief who was stalking through the floor in an

icy rage when Reich entered. The fact that Reich's secretary had sent an

advance telepathic announcement of the visit made no difference to him.

"I have allotted ten minutes per applicant for my final screening

interview," the Chief was snapping to an assistant. "Six per hour,

forty-eight per day. Unless my percentage of final rejections drops below

thirty-five, I am wasting my time; which means you are wasting Monarch's

time. I am not employed by Monarch to screen out the obviously unsuitable.

That is your work. See to it." He turned to Reich and nodded pedantically.

"Good morning, Mr. Reich."

"Morning. Trouble?"

"Nothing that cannot be handled once this staff understands that Extra

Sensory Perception is not a miracle but a skill subject to wage-hour

limitations. And what is your decision on Blonn, Mr. Reich?"

Secretary: "He hasn't read your memo yet."

"May I point out, young woman, that unless I am used with maximum

efficiency I am wasted. The Blonn memo has been on Mr. Reich's desk for

three days."

"Who the hell is Blonn?" Reich asked.

"First, the background, Mr. Reich: There are approximately one hundred

thousand (100,000) 3rd Class Espers in the Esper Guild. An Esper 3 can peep

the conscious level of a mind---can discover what a subject is thinking at

the moment of thought. A 3rd is the lowest class of telepath. Most of

Monarch's security positions are held by 3rds. We employ over five

hundred..."

"He knows all this. Everybody does. Get to the point, long-wind!"

"Permit me, if I may, to arrive at the point in my own way. Next,

there are approximately ten thousand 2nd Class Espers in the Guild," the

Personnel Chief continued frostily. "They are experts like myself who can

penetrate beneath the conscious level of the mind to the preconscious. Most

2nds are in the professional class... physicians, lawyers, engineers,

educators, economists, architects and so on."

"And you all cost a fortune," Reich growled.

"Why not? We have unique service to sell. Monarch appreciates the

fact. Monarch employs over one hundred 2nds at present."

"Will you get to the point?"

"Finally there are less than a thousand 1st Class Espers in the Guild.

The 1sts are capable of deep peeping, through the conscious and

preconscious layers down to the unconscious... the lowest levels of the

mind. Primordial basic desires and so forth. These, of course, hold premium

positions. Education, specialized medical service... analysts like Tate,

Gart, @kins, Moselle... criminologists like Lincoln Powell of the Psychotic

Division... Political Analysts, State Negotiators, Special Cabinet

Advisors, and so on. Thus far Monarch Utilities has never had occasion to

hire a 1st."

"And?" Reich muttered.

"The occasion has arisen, Mr. Reich, and I believe Blonn may be

available. Briefly..."

"It says here."

"Briefly, Mr. Reich, Monarch is hiring so many Espers that I have

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (5 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

suggested we set up a special Esper Personnel Department, headed by a 1st

like Blonn, to devote itself exclusively to interviewing telepaths."

"He's wondering why you can't handle it."

"I have given you the background to explain why I cannot handle the

job, Mr. Reich. I am a 2nd Class Esper. I can telepath normal applicants

rapidly and efficiently, but I cannot handle other Espers with the same

speed and economy. All Espers are accustomed to using mind-blocks of

varying effectiveness depending on their rating. It would take me one hour

per 3rd for an efficient screening interview. It would take me three hours

per 2nd. I could not possibly peep through the mind-block of a 1st. We must

hire a 1st like Blonn for this work. The cost will be enormous, of course,

but the necessity is urgent."

"What's so urgent?" Reich said.

"For heaven's sake! Don't give him that picture! That isn't diversion.

It's waving a red flag. He's sore enough now."

"I have my job to do, Madam." To Reich, the Chief said: "The fact is,

sir, we are not hiring the best Espers. The D'Courtney Cartel has been

taking the cream of the Espers away from us. Over and over again, through

lack of proper facilities, we have been mouse-trapped by D'Courtney into

bidding for inferior people while D'Courtney has quietly appropriated the

best."

"Damn you!" Reich shouted. "Damn D'Courtney. All right. Set it up. And

tell this Blonn to start mouse-trapping D'Courtney. You'd better start,

too."

Reich tore out of Personnel and over to Sales-city. The same

unpleasant information was waiting for him. Monarch Utilities & Resources

was losing the gut-fight with the D'Courtney Cartel. It was losing the

fight in every sector-city---Advertising, Engineering, Research, Public

Relations. There was no escaping the certainty of defeat. Reich knew his

back was to the wall.

He returned to his own office and paced in a fury for five minutes.

"It's no use," he muttered. "I know I'll have to kill him. He won't accept

merger. Why should he? He's licked me and he knows it. I'll have to kill

him and I'll need help. Peeper help."

He flipped on the v-phone and told the operator; "Recreation."

A sparkling lounge appeared on the screen, decorated in chrome and

enamel, equipped with game tables and a bar dispenser. It appeared to be

and was used as a recreation center. It was, in fact, headquarters of

Monarch's powerful espionage division. The Recreation Director, a bearded

scholar named West, looked up from a chess problem, then rose to attention.

"Good morning, Mr. Reich."

Warned by the formal `Mister,' Reich said: "Good morning, Mr. West.

Just a routine check. Paternalism, you know. How's amusement these days?"

"Modulated, Mr. Reich. However, I must complain, sir. I think there's

entirely too much gambling going on." West stalled in a fussy voice until

two bona fide Monarch clerks innocently finished their drinks and departed.

Then he relaxed and slumped into his chair. "All clear, Ben. Shoot."

"Has Hassop broken the confidential code yet, Ellery?"

The peeper shook his head.

"Trying?"

West smiled and nodded.

"Where's D'Courtney?"

"En route to Terra, aboard the `Astra'."

"Know his plans? Where he'll be staying?"

"No. Want a check?"

"I don't know. It depends..."

"Depends on what?" West glanced at him curiously. "I wish the

Telepathic Pattern could be transmitted by phone, Ben. I'd like to know

what you're thinking at."

Reich smiled grimly. "Thank God for the phone. At least we've got that

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (6 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

protection from mind readers. What's your attitude on crime, Ellery?"

"Typical."

"Of anybody?"

"Of the Guild. The Guild doesn't like it, Ben."

"So what's so hot about the Esper Guild? You know the value of money,

success... Why don't you clever-up? Why do you let the Guild do your

thinking?"

"You don't understand. We're born in the Guild. We live with the

Guild. We die in the Guild. We have the right to elect Guild officers, and

that's all. The Guild runs our professional lives. It trains us, grades us,

sets ethical standards, and sees that we stick to them. It protects us by

protecting the layman, the same as medical associations. We have the

equivalent of the Hippocratic Oath. It's called the Esper Pledge. God help

any of us if we break it... as I judge you're suggesting I should."

"Maybe I am," Reich said intently. "Maybe I'm hinting it could be

worth your while to break the peeper pledge. Maybe I'm thinking in terms of

money ... more than you or any 2nd Class peeper ever sees in a lifetime."

"Forget it, Ben. Not interested."

"So you bust your pledge. What happens?"

"We're ostracized."

"That's all? Is that so awful? With a fortune in your pocket? Smart

peepers have broken with the Guild before. They've been ostracized. So

what? Clever-up, Ellery."

West smiled wryly: "You wouldn't understand, Ben."

"Make me understand."

"Those ousted peepers you mention... like Jerry Church. They weren't

so smart. It's like this..." West considered. "Before surgery really got

started, there used to be a handicapped group called deaf-mutes."

"No-hear no-talk?"

"That's it. They communicated by a manual sign language. That meant

they couldn't communicate with anybody but deaf-mutes. Understand? They had

to live in their own community or they couldn't live at all. A man goes

crazy if he can't talk to friends."

"So?"

"Some of them started a racket. They'd tax the more successful

deaf-mutes for weekly hand-outs. If the victim refused to pay, they'd

ostracize him. The victim always paid. It was a choice of paying or living

in solitary until he went mad."

"You mean you peepers are like deaf-mutes?"

"No, Ben. You normals are the deaf-mutes. If we had to live with you

alone, we'd go mad. So leave me alone. If you're nursing something dirty, I

don't want to know."

West cut off the phone in Reich's face. With a roar of rage, Reich

snatched up a gold paper-weight and hurled it into the crystal screen.

Before the shattered fragments finished flying, he was in the corridor and

on his way out of the building.

His peeper secretary knew where he was going. His peeper chauffeur

knew where he wanted to go. Reich arrived in his apartment and was met by

his peeper house-supervisor who at once announced early luncheon and dialed

the meal to Reich's unspoken demands. Feeling slightly less violent, Reich

stalked into bis study and turned to bis safe, a shimmer of light in the

corner.

It was simply a honey-comb paper rack turned out of temporal phrase

with a single-cycle beat. Each second when the safe phase and the temporal

phase coincided, the rack pulsed with a brilliant glow. The safe could only

be opened by the pore-pattern of Reich's left index finger which was

irreproducible.

Reich placed the tip of his finger in the center of the glow. It faded

and the honey-comb rack appeared. Holding his finger in place, he reached

up and took down a small black notebook and a large red envelope. He

removed his index finger and the safe pulsed out of phase again.

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (7 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

Reich flipped through the pages of the notebook... ABDUCTION...

ANARCHISTS... ARSONISTS... BRIBERY (PROVEN)... BRIBERY (POTENTIAL)... Under

(POTENTIAL) he found the names of fifty-seven prominent people. One of them

was Augustus Tate, Esper Medical Doctor 1. He nodded with satisfaction.

He tore open the red envelope and examined its contents. It contained

five sheets of closely written pages in a handwriting that was centuries

old. It was a message from the founder of Monarch Utilities and the Reich

clan. Four of the pages were lettered: PLAN A, PLAN B, PLAN C, PLAN D. The

fifth was headed INTRODUCTION. Reich read the ancient spidery cursive

slowly:

To those who come after me: The test of intellect is the

refusal to belabor the obvious. If you have opened this letter we

understand one another. I have prepared four general murder plans

which may help you. I bequeath them to you as part of your Reich

inheritance. They are outlines. The details must be filled in by

yourself as your time, your environment, and necessity require.

Caution: The essence of murder never changes. In every era

it remains the conflict of the killer against society with the

victim as the prize. And the ABC of conflict with society remains

constant. Be audacious, be brave, be confident and you will not

fail. Against these assets society can have no defense.

Geoffry Reich

Reich leafed through the plans slowly, filled with admiration for the

first of his line who had had the fore-thought to prepare for every

possible emergency. The plans were out-dated but they kindled imagination;

and ideas began forming and crystallizing to be considered, discarded, and

instantly replaced. One phrase caught his attention:

If you believe yourself a natural killer, avoid planning too

carefully. Leave most to your instinct. Intellect may fail you, but the

killer instinct is invincible.

"The killer instinct," Reich breathed. "By God, I've got that."

The phone chimed once and then the automatic switched on. There was a

quick chatter and tape began to stutter out of the recorder. Reich strode

to the desk and examined it. The message was short and deadly:

CODE TO REICH: REPLY WWHG.

"WWHG. `Offer refused.' Refused! REFUSED! I knew it!" Reich shouted.

"All right, D'Courtney. If you won't let it be merger, then I'll make it

murder."

--------------------------------------

Augustus Tate, E.M.D. 1, received Cr. 1,000 per hour of analysis...

not a high fee considering that a patient rarely required more than an hour

of the doctor's devastating time; but it placed his income at Cr. 8,000 a

day or well over Cr. 2 million a year. Few people knew what proportion of

that income was paid into the Esper Guild for the education of other

Telepaths and the furthering of the Guild's Eugenic plan to bring Extra

Sensory Perception to everyone in the world.

Augustus Tate knew, and the 95% he paid was a sore point with him.

Consequently, he belonged to "The League of Esper Patriots," an extreme

right-wing political group within the Guild, dedicated to the preservation

of the autocracy and incomes of the upper grade Espers. It was this

membership that placed him in Ben Reich's BRIBERY (POTENTIAL) category.

Reich marched into Tate's exquisite consultation room, glanced once at

Tate's tiny frame---a figure slightly out of proportion but carefully

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (8 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

realigned by tailors. Reich sat down and grunted: "Peep me quick."

He glared in concentration at Tate while the elegant little peeper

examined him with a glittering eye and spoke in quick bursts: "You're Ben

Reich of Monarch. Ten billion credit firm. Think I should know you. I do.

You're involved in a death struggle with the D'Courtney Cartel. Right?

You're savagely hostile toward D'Courtney. Right? Offered merger this

morning. Coded message: YYJI TTED RRCB UUFE AALK QQBA. Offer refused.

Right? In desperation you have resolved to---" Tate broke off abruptly.

"Go ahead," Reich said.

"To murder Craye D'Courtney as the first step in taking over his

cartel. You want my help... Mr. Reich, this is ridiculous! If you keep on

thinking like this, I'll have to commit you. You know the law."

"Clever-up, Tate. You're going to help me break the law."

"No, Mr. Reich. I'm not in a position to help you."

"You say that? A 1st Class Esper? And I'm supposed to believe it? I'm

supposed to believe you're incapable of outwitting any man, any group, the

whole world?"

Tate smiled. "Sugar for the fly," he said. "A characteristic device

of---"

"Peep me," Reich interrupted. "It'll save time. Read what's in my

mind. Your gift. My resources. An unbeatable combination. My God! It's

lucky for the world I'm willing to stop at one murder. Together we could

rape the universe."

"No," Tate said with decision. "This won't do. I'll have to commit

you, Mr. Reich."

"Wait. Want to find out what I'm offering you? Read me deeper. How

much am I willing to pay? What's my top limit?"

Tate closed his eyes. His mannequin face tightened painfully. Then his

eyes opened in surprise. "You can't be serious," he exclaimed.

"I am," Reich grunted. "And what's more, you know it's an offer in

good faith, don't you?"

Tate nodded slowly.

"And you're aware that Monarch plus D'Courtney can make the offer

good."

"I almost believe you."

"You can believe me. I've been financing your League of Esper Patriots

for five years. If you've peeped me deep enough yon know why. I hate the

damned Esper Guild as much as you do. Guild ethics are bad for business...

lousy for making money. Your League is the organization that can break the

Esper Guild some day..."

"I've got all that," Tate said sharply.

"With Monarch and D'Courtney in my pocket I can do better than help

your faction break the Guild. I can make you President of a new Esper Guild

for life. That's an unconditional guarantee. You can't do it alone, but you

can do it with me."

Tate closed his eyes and murmured: "There hasn't been a successful

premeditated murder in 79 years. Espers make it impossible to conceal

intent before murder. Or, if Espers have been evaded before the murder,

they make it impossible to conceal the guilt afterwards."

"Esper evidence isn't admitted in court."

"True, but once an Esper discovers guilt he can always uncover

objective evidence to support his peeping. Lincoln Powell, the Prefect of

the Police Psychotic Division, is deadly." Tate opened his eyes. "D'you

want to forget this conversation?"

"No," Reich growled. "Look it over with me first. Why have murders

failed? Because mind-readers patrol the world. What can stop a mind-reader?

Another one. But no killer ever had the sense to hire a good peeper to run

interference for him; or if he had the sense, he couldn't make the deal.

I've made the deal."

"Have you?"

"I'm going to fight a war," Reich continued. "I'm going to fight one

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (9 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt

sharp skirmish with society. Let's look at it as a problem in strategy and

tactics. My problem's simply the problem of any army. Audacity, bravery,

and confidence aren't enough. An army needs Intelligence. A war is won with

Intelligence. I need you for my G-2."

"Agreed."

"I'll do the fighting. You'll provide the Intelligence. I'll have to

know where D'Courtney will be, where I can strike, when I can strike. I'll

take care of the killing myself, but you'll have to tell me when and where

the opportunity will be."

"Understood."

"I'll have to invade first... cut through the defensive network

surrounding D'Courtney. That means reconnaissance from you. You'll have to

check the normals, spot the peepers, warn me and block their mind-reading

if I can't avoid them. I'll have to retreat after the killing through

another network of normals and peepers. You'll have to help me fight a

rear-guard action. You'll have to remain on the scene after the murder.

You'll find out whom the police suspect and why. If I know suspicion is

directed against myself, I can divert it. If I know it's directed against

someone else, I can clinch it. I can fight this war and win this war with

your Intelligence. Is that the truth? Peep me."

After a long pause, Tate said: "It's the truth. We can do it."

"Will you do it?"

Tate hesitated, then nodded with finality. "Yes. I'll do it."

Reich took a deep breath. "Right. Now here's the course I'm plotting.

I think I can set up the killing with an old game called `Sardine.' It will

give me the opportunity to get at D'Courtney, and I've figured out a trick

to kill him; I know how to fire an antique explosive gun without bullets."

"Wait," Tate interrupted sharply. "How are you going to keep all this

intent concealed from stray peepers? I can only screen you when I'm with

you. I won't be with you all the time."

"I can work up a temporary mind-block. There's a song-writer down on

Melody Lane I can swindle into helping me."

"It may work," Tate said after a moment's peeping. "But one thing

occurs to me. Suppose D'Courtney is protected? Do you expect to shoot it

out with bis body-guards?"

"No. I'm hoping it won't be necessary. A physiologist named Jordan has

just developed visual knock-out drops for Monarch. We intended using it for

strike riots. I'll use it on D'Courtney's guards."

"I see."

"You'll be working with me all along... doing reconnaissance and

intelligence, but I need one piece of information first. When D'Courtney

comes to town he's usually the guest of Maria Beaumont."

"The Gilt Corpse?"

"The same. I want you to find out if D'Courtney intends staying with

her this trip. Everything depends on that."

"Easy enough. I can locate D'Courtney's destination and plans for you.

There's to be a social gathering tonight at Lincoln Powell's house,

D'Courtney's physician will probably be there. He's on Terra for a week's

visit. I'll start the reconnaissance through him."

"And you're not afraid of Powell?"

Tate smiled contemptuously. "If I were, Mr. Reich, would I trust

myself in this bargain with you? Make no mistake. I'm no Jerry Church."

"Church!"

"Yes. Don't act surprised. Church, the 2nd. He was kicked out of the

Guild ten years ago for that little junket of his with you."

"Damn you. Got that from my mind, eh?"

"Your mind and history."

"Well, it won't repeat itself this time. You're tougher and smarter

than Church. Need anything special for Powell's party? Women? Clothes?

Jewels? Money? Just call on Monarch."

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%20The.txt (10 of 115) [1/19/03 3:58:02 PM]

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

file:///F|/rah/Alfred%20Bester/Rester,%20Alfred%20-%20Demolished%20Man,%\20The.txtAlfredBester.TheDemolishedManAlfredBesterTheDemolishedMan1951-------------------1Explosion!Concussion!Thevaultdoorsburstopen.Anddeepinside,\themoneyisrackedreadyforpillage,rapine,loot.Who'sthat?Who'sinsidethevault?OhGo...

展开>> 收起<<

Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man.pdf

共115页,预览23页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: