The demolished man

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Authors: Alfred Bester
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction
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gun! Christ! The tricked gun!
    A hand touched his arm. Reich jerked in alarm. Tate whispered: "I've been
    standing by. It took you exactly---"
    "You son of a bitch!" Reich burst out. "There was a daughter. Why didn't you---"
     
    "Be quiet," Tate snapped. "Let me peep it." After fifteen seconds of burning
    silence, he began to tremble. In a terrified voice he whined: "My God. Oh, my
    God..."
    His terror was the catalyst. Reich's control returned. He began thinking again.
    "Shut up," he growled. "It isn't Demolition yet."
    "You'll have to kill her too, Reich. You'll---"
    "Shut up. Find her, first. Cover the house. You got her pattern from me. Locate
    her. I'll be waiting at the fountain. Jet!"
    He flung Tate from him and staggered to the fountain. At the jasper rim he bent
    and bathed his burning face. It was burgundy. Reich wiped his face and ignored
    the muffled sounds that came from the other side of the basin. Evidently some
    other person or persons unknown were bathing in wine.
    He considered swiftly. The girl must be located and killed. If she still had the
    gun when Tate found her, the gun would be used. If she didn't? What? Strangle
    her? No... The fountain. She was naked under that silk gown. It could be
    stripped off. She could be found drowned in the fountain... just another guest
    who had bathed in the wine too long. But it had to be soon... soon... soon...
    Before this damned Sardine game was ended. Where was Tate? Where was the girl?
    Tate came blundering up through the darkness, his breath wheezing.

"Well?"
    "She's gone."
    "You weren't gone long enough to find a louse. If this is a double-cross---"
    "Who could I cross? I'm on the same road you are. I tell you her pattern's
    nowhere in the house. She's gone."
    "Anyone notice her leave?"
    "No."
    "Christ! Out of the house!"
    "We'd better leave too."
    "Yes, but we can't run. Once we get out of here, we'll have the rest of the
    night to find her, but we've got to leave as though nothing's happened. Where's
    The Guilt Corpse?"
    "In the projection room."
    "Watching a show?"
    "No. Still playing Sardine. They're packed in there like fish in a can. We're
    almost the last out here in the house."
    "Wandering alone in the dark, eh? Come on."
    He gripped Tate's shaking elbow and marched him toward the projection room. As
    he walked he called plaintively: "Hey... Where is everybody? Maria! Ma-ri-aaa!
    Where's everybody?"
    Tate emitted a hysterical sob. Reich shook him roughly. "Play up! We'll be out
    of here in five minutes. Then you can start worrying."..
    "But if we're trapped in here, we won't be able to get the girl.We'll--- "..
    "We won't be trapped. ABC, Gus. Audacious, brave, and confident." Reich pushed
    open the door of the projection room. There was darkness in here, too, but the
    heat of many bodies. "Hey," he called. "Where is everybody? I'm all alone."
    No answer.
    "Maria. I'm all alone in the dark."
    A muffled sputter, then a burst of laughter.
    "Darling, darling, darling!" Maria called. "You've missed all the fun, poor
    dear." '
    "Where are you, Maria? I've come to say good night."
    "Oh, you can't be leaving..."
    "Sorry, dear. It's late. I've got to swindle a friend tomorrow. Where are you
    Maria?"
    "Come up on the stage, darling."
    Reich walked down the aisle, felt for the steps and mounted the stage. He felt
    the cool perimeter of the projection globe behind him. A voice called: "All
    right. Now we've got him. Lights!"
    White light flooded the globe and blinded Reich. The guests seated in the chairs
    around the stage started to whoop with laughter, then howled in disappointment.
    "Oh Ben, you cheat," Maria screeched. "You're still dressed. That isn't fair.
    We've been catching everybody divinely flagrante."
    "Some other time, Maria dear." Reich extended his hand before him and began the
    graceful bow of farewell. "Respectfully, Madame. I give you my thanks for---" He
    broke off in amazement. On the gloaming white lace of his cuff an angry red

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