Read Online Slave Ship by Frederik Pohl - Free Book Online
Authors: Frederik Pohl
Tags: Science-Fiction
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Caodai territory."
"I know it is," I said patiently. "My wife is interned there."
She looked at me as though I were a pacifist or something, but she kept on filling out the forms. I gave her all the information she asked for, and she said:
"You're lucky. They say that all ESP communication will be pre-empted for military use the first of the month. Now, would you like this guaranteed or not?"
"Non-guaranteed," I said. The difference in the rate was considerable, and besides I'd had half a dozen previous rapports with Elsie. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that I'd get through, that is if she was still—
Never mind that , I told myself quickly, and listened to the WAVE. She was mumbling figures from a rate book and making marks on a pad.
"Eleven dollars and ninety-five cents, including tax," she said at last. "That's for three minutes." She spoke into an intercom, and nodded to me. "Mr. Giordano will see you now," she said.
Giordano was a beady-eyed little old man with curly white hair. "Six previous rapports," he said approvingly, studying my chart. "Well, ten cc ought to be enough for you. Will you roll up your sleeves, please?"
I looked away as the needle bit into my arm. It tingled; the hormone solution you take before an esper rapport seems to be distilled from wasp venom. "Thank you," he said, and I rolled down my sleeve as he sat down at his desk. He wasn't much like the last esper I'd gone to, back in Providence when Elsie was first interned; that particular one had worn a white tunic with a side-buttoned collar like a surgeon's, and he had been a phony from the word go. On, he put me in touch with Elsie all right, but there had been a gauzy shapelessness about the contact that had left me more unsatisfied when I left than when I came in.
This one had a fine businesslike air about him; he wore an ordinary Navy undress uniform with a Chief Warrant's pin in his collar. That's a more important factor in esping than most people realize. The Providence hookup had been the one real failure I had had with Elsie. "May I have the node, Lieutenant?" he asked.
The "node" was the photograph of Elsie from my wallet. He studied it approvingly. Why is it that the photograph one carries of a girl is always in a bathing suit? Is it that the more you can see of a subject, the more vividly the silver agglutinates bring her back? Or just that one carries a camera to the beach?
"Very nice," he said. "Now, how about your nodal experience?"
"Well," I said hesitantly, "how about this one? Just before the picture was taken, we had lunch on a terrace overlooking the beach. There was a band, and we danced."
"And you remember the tune the band was playing?" I nodded. "Good. One other thing, Lieutenant. Do you know what time it is in Zanzibar now?"
I snapped my fingers. "Oh, damn. She'll be asleep?"
He glanced at a chart and nodded. "It's around two in the morning there. Of course, you can get rapport even if she's asleep, you know, but she may not remember it in the morning or she may think it's a dream."
I said: "We'll try it." I could always try again the next day, I told myself; the money didn't matter.
"Lean back," he said gently, and the lights went out, all but a tiny, indirect one that softened the shadows but left nothing for the mind to fix on.
I felt the esper come into my mind. I know that some people find that an ordeal, like the dentist's pick prying into the bicuspid; for me it has always been a warming, protecting sort of coming-together. Perhaps it is because I've never esped anyone but Elsie, and it hasn't been a matter of exchanging data but of moods. Those who try to use espers for business calls, trying to pinpoint details in that cloudy contact, must find the whole process exasperating.
I heard, in the back of my mind, the slow whispers of the music, and I saw the beach-umbrellaed terrace where Elsie and I had danced. The esper was finding the range.
Elsie? I formed the name in my mind.
She was asleep,
"I know it is," I said patiently. "My wife is interned there."
She looked at me as though I were a pacifist or something, but she kept on filling out the forms. I gave her all the information she asked for, and she said:
"You're lucky. They say that all ESP communication will be pre-empted for military use the first of the month. Now, would you like this guaranteed or not?"
"Non-guaranteed," I said. The difference in the rate was considerable, and besides I'd had half a dozen previous rapports with Elsie. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that I'd get through, that is if she was still—
Never mind that , I told myself quickly, and listened to the WAVE. She was mumbling figures from a rate book and making marks on a pad.
"Eleven dollars and ninety-five cents, including tax," she said at last. "That's for three minutes." She spoke into an intercom, and nodded to me. "Mr. Giordano will see you now," she said.
Giordano was a beady-eyed little old man with curly white hair. "Six previous rapports," he said approvingly, studying my chart. "Well, ten cc ought to be enough for you. Will you roll up your sleeves, please?"
I looked away as the needle bit into my arm. It tingled; the hormone solution you take before an esper rapport seems to be distilled from wasp venom. "Thank you," he said, and I rolled down my sleeve as he sat down at his desk. He wasn't much like the last esper I'd gone to, back in Providence when Elsie was first interned; that particular one had worn a white tunic with a side-buttoned collar like a surgeon's, and he had been a phony from the word go. On, he put me in touch with Elsie all right, but there had been a gauzy shapelessness about the contact that had left me more unsatisfied when I left than when I came in.
This one had a fine businesslike air about him; he wore an ordinary Navy undress uniform with a Chief Warrant's pin in his collar. That's a more important factor in esping than most people realize. The Providence hookup had been the one real failure I had had with Elsie. "May I have the node, Lieutenant?" he asked.
The "node" was the photograph of Elsie from my wallet. He studied it approvingly. Why is it that the photograph one carries of a girl is always in a bathing suit? Is it that the more you can see of a subject, the more vividly the silver agglutinates bring her back? Or just that one carries a camera to the beach?
"Very nice," he said. "Now, how about your nodal experience?"
"Well," I said hesitantly, "how about this one? Just before the picture was taken, we had lunch on a terrace overlooking the beach. There was a band, and we danced."
"And you remember the tune the band was playing?" I nodded. "Good. One other thing, Lieutenant. Do you know what time it is in Zanzibar now?"
I snapped my fingers. "Oh, damn. She'll be asleep?"
He glanced at a chart and nodded. "It's around two in the morning there. Of course, you can get rapport even if she's asleep, you know, but she may not remember it in the morning or she may think it's a dream."
I said: "We'll try it." I could always try again the next day, I told myself; the money didn't matter.
"Lean back," he said gently, and the lights went out, all but a tiny, indirect one that softened the shadows but left nothing for the mind to fix on.
I felt the esper come into my mind. I know that some people find that an ordeal, like the dentist's pick prying into the bicuspid; for me it has always been a warming, protecting sort of coming-together. Perhaps it is because I've never esped anyone but Elsie, and it hasn't been a matter of exchanging data but of moods. Those who try to use espers for business calls, trying to pinpoint details in that cloudy contact, must find the whole process exasperating.
I heard, in the back of my mind, the slow whispers of the music, and I saw the beach-umbrellaed terrace where Elsie and I had danced. The esper was finding the range.
Elsie? I formed the name in my mind.
She was asleep,
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