Chapter 16

Consciousness came to Underwood as if he were responding to the persistent voice of some unseen speaker. It called him out of the depths of eternal existence into the realm of conflict and reality. Curiously, it sounded like Jandro.

He opened his eyes. Illia was there, her face white and strained. But as he looked at her, her blue eyes glistened and she bent down. “Del! Oh, Del--!”

Terry, Phyfe, Mason and Akers were standing near the bed, watching with anxious faces.

Pain was beginning to show itself in burning streamers, but he managed a quick smile to those about him. “Looks like we made it all right,” he said. “I wonder what I can do with these gadgets now. Think they’ll work, Illia?”

She raised up, brisk and businesslike once more. “You aren’t going to find out for a while. I intend to knock you out for a good, cold twenty-four hours. Give me your arm.”

She reached for a hypo needle on the table beside the bed.

It was like stumbling around in the dark at first, trying to run from an unseen pursuer. But all at once, Underwood knew he didn’t need to run at all. The hypo was blocking the sensory equipment in other parts of his body, but it couldn’t affect the abasic organs if he didn’t want it to. He stopped running and watched the ordinary faculties of his body give way while he stood aside in complete immunity. It was as if he could step outside and look at himself.

And, suddenly, that was what he was doing!

He could see the room, the watching scientists, and Illia carefully checking his heartbeat and respiration. He could see himself lying still with eyes closed. Curiously, he could not identify the point of view. He thought for a moment that he was up near the ceiling somewhere, looking down, but that wasn’t right, either, because he could see the ceiling just as well as the floor or the four walls. The scene was like a picture taken with a lens having a solid angle of perception of three hundred and sixty degrees.

He wondered if he could go beyond the limits of the room, tried it and found it quite easy to do. There was some clumsiness due to inexperience and conditioning that stopped him at the walls, where he had a moment’s claustrophobic fright of being trapped between the metal panels, but it was over in an instant and he was through. He went toward the control room and found it occupied only by Dreyer, who remained placidly smoking a cigar in the navigator’s chair.

Underwood wanted to communicate with the semanticist, only he wasn’t sure how to go about it. It was like trying to talk with a mouth full of dry crackers.

But Dreyer stared around with a sudden start. He removed the cigar from his mouth and looked agape for an unseen speaker.

“Dreyer, can you hear me?”

“Underwood! You succeeded!”

“After a fashion. So far it’s like walking around in deep mud, but I’m getting used to it gradually.”

“This is wonderful--wonderful!” Dreyer breathed. “I hadn’t dared hope that I would ever hear your voice again. Where are you?”

“That’s a tough question. Theoretically, I’m unconscious back in sick bay with a shot of neo-morph that will keep me out for twenty-four hours. Illia and the others are back there watching me. The abasic senses aren’t at all affected by the drug. I seem to be able to wander anywhere I wish about the ship. The funny part is that I can’t pin down a point of view. I don’t seem to be anywhere. Nevertheless, my senses perceive distant sounds and objects--including my own corpus.”

“Can you detect my thoughts when I don’t speak? Jandro didn’t seem able to do that.”

Underwood laughed. “I don’t know whether I can or not. I try, but all I get is a fuzzy static. I’m sure that these organs have dozens of functions that we haven’t even dreamed of yet. I hope that I can learn to use them all.”

“What do you plan now? Do you need a period of exercise and study?”

“Some, but not nearly as much as I would have needed if it hadn’t been Jandro’s mature organs that were grafted into me. There is something that we never thought of before, though.”