The Demolished Man - Alfred Bester, ebook, Temp
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Alfred Bester. The Demolished ManAlfred BesterThe Demolished Man1951-------------------1Explosion! Concussion! The vault doors burst open. And deep inside,the money is racked ready for pillage, rapine, loot. Who's that? Who'sinside 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 withher flower face and figure of passion. There's time if I run. But thatisn'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 marblewhile the music soars and the lights burn. But there's no one out there inthe 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 andhis eyes focused at random on in the room, simulating a calm he could notfeel. The walls of green jade, the nightlight in the porcelain mandarinwhose head nodded interminably if you touched him, the multi-clock thatradiated the time of three planets and six satellites, the bed itself, acrystal pool flowing with carbonated glycerine at ninety-nine point nineFahrenheit.The door opened softly and Jonas appeared in the gloom, a shadow inpuce sleeping suit, a shade with the face of a horse and the bearing of anundertaker."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 treatingyou 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 thefun?""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 byaccident." He stared at the reflection: the heavy shoulders, narrow flanks,long corded legs... the sleek head with wide eyes, chiseled nose, smallsensitive mouth scarred by implacability."Why?" he asked. "I wouldn't change looks with the devil. I wouldn'tchange places with God. Why the screaming?"He put on a gown and glanced at the clock, unaware that he was notingthe time panorama of the solar system with an unconscious skill that wouldhave baffled his ancestors. The dials read:A.D. 2301VENUS EARTH MARSMean Solar Day 22 February 15 Duodecember 35Noon + 09 0205 Greenwich 2220 Central SyrtisMOON IO GANYMEDE CALLISTO TITAN TRITON2D3H 1D1H 6D8H 13D12H 15D3H 4D9H(eclipsed) (transit)Night, noon, summer, winter... without bothering to think, Reich couldhave rattled off the time and season for any meridian on any body in thesolar system. Here in New York it was a bitter morning after a bitter nightof dreaming. He would give himself a few minutes of analysis with the Esperpsychiatrist he retained. The screaming had to stop."E for Esper," he muttered. "Esper for Extra Sensory Perception... ForTelepaths, Mind Readers, Brain Peepers. You'd think a mind-reading doctorcould stop the screaming. You'd think an Esper M.D. would earn his moneyand peep inside your head and stop the screaming. Those damned mindreadersare supposed to be the greatest advance since Homo sapiens evolved. E forEvolution. 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 thesilver floor, ke-tat-ke-tat-ke-tat-ke-tat, indifferent to the slumber ofhis house staff, unaware that this early morning skeletal clack awakenedtwelve hearts to hatred and dread. He thrust open the door of his analyst'ssuite, entered and at once lay down on the couch.Carson Breen, Esper Medical Doctor 2, was already awake and ready forhim. As Reich's staff analyst he slept the "nurse's sleep" in which heremained en rapport with his patient and could only be awakened by hisneeds. That one scream had been enough for Breen. Now he was seatedalongside the couch, elegant in embroidered gown (his job paid twentythousand credits a year) and sharply alert (his employer was generous butdemanding)."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 ofme. Yes, nightmares again. I was trying to rob a bank. Then I was trying tocatch a train. Then someone was singing. Me, I think. I'm trying to giveyou 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 generalanxiety 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 mindof the peeper searched underneath his overturning words. "You're wronganyway," 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 bemade 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 makesense.""It does, Mr. Reich. A phallic pun. Read `Heir' for `air' and you'llsee it. Continue, please.""You peepers are too damned smart. Let's see. Pneumatique... train -underground - compressed air - ultra sonic speed---`We transport You Intotransports,' 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 tounderstand. Amphitheater..."Seats - pits - balcony - boxes - stalls - horse stalls - Martianhorses - 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 beenyour constant enemy, frustrator, and inspirer of terror in dreams thatcontain 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 thisterrifying figure. Why else would you attempt to escape by rejecting hisface?""I'm not rejecting anything.""I offer as further clues the altered word `Dort' and the forgottenname 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 thecouch. "Your clues don't help. I can't make any identification.""The Man With No Face does not fill you with fear because he'sfaceless. You know who he is. You hate him and fear him, but you know whohe is.""You're the peeper. You tell me. ""There's a limit to my ability, Mr. Reich. I can read your mind nodeeper 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 deliberatelyhired 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 tostop, you'll have to consult one of the 1st Class men... Say, Augustus Tateor Gart or Samuel @kins...""I'll think about it," Reich muttered and turned to go. As he openedthe 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 thealteration of `bort' to `dort'? Think it over.""The Man With No Face!"Without staggering, Reich slammed the door across the path from hismind to Breen and then lurched down the corridor toward his own suite. Awave of savage hatred burst over him. "He's right. It's D'Courtney who'sgiving me the screams. Not because I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of myself.Known all along. Known it deep down in...
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