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Authors: A. E. van Vogt
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thousand gods.
In one sense it was a mistake to think in terms of "soul," for such belief had a religious significance which automatically implied the belief was non-scientific, dependent on faith, incapable of being tested. Whereas, if there were phenomena, it would have manifested in innumerable ways, and would automatically be subject to laws. The fact that these laws might not be the same as those of the space-tune continuum, known as the material universe, would not prevent them from being correlated in a scientific fashion.
"If," thought Cargill, as he entered the floater behind Lela, "I'm an energy field in the real universe, every time that field manifests itself somebody says 'Aha!' and we've got another philosophy."
He had a very strong conviction that it was a riddle he would have to resolve.
The days went by. Each morning their floater would drift up as high as its light-driven motor could carry them. On very clear, bright days that was as high as three miles. A thick mist could bring them down to within half a mile of the ground. And on a muggy or rainy day they had difficulty in clearing the higher hills. At such times, two or three hundred yards seemed to be their top altitude.
It was a strange, almost timeless existence, with nothing to do except watch the ground or lie on a cot and sleep, or sit in the all-room of the ship and plan escape.
Lela was the obstacle. It seemed to Cargill that he had never seen a girl so tense and wary. She slept in the control room, with the door locked. And yet, if he stirred, her light went on and he could see her watching him through the transparent door. That happened not just once, but every time. Her alertness baffled all his schemes. The end of this phase of their relationship came one night—Cargill wasn't sure whether it was the tenth or eleventh day since their escape; he had lost track of time.
As the floater settled to the grass beside a stream, he opened the outer door, stepped down and walked rapidly off among the trees. A muffled yell sounded from behind him. The beam of a powerful searchlight pierced the gathering twilight and silhouetted him in its glare. A hundred feet ahead of him a tree fell, seared and smoldering.
Cargill, who hadn't expected her to be able to fire at him from inside the control room, stopped short. Slowly, angrily, he returned to the ship. He had planned a showdown if he failed, and the moment had come.
Lela met him at the door, tense and furious. "You were trying to run away," she accused.
Cargill stopped and glared at her. "You bet I was. What do you think I'm made of—stone?"
His tone must have conveyed part of his meaning, for some of the anger faded out of the girl. Oddly enough, to some extent, the implication was true. As a single man in the army, he had learned not to be too discriminating about his girls. After eleven days alone with Lela, he no longer felt as critical of her. She had a youthful prettiness, and there was more than enough passion in her to satisfy any man.
But his purpose was more than conquest of a woman. He intended to take full control of the floater. He stared at her now, where she stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from inside. She held a spitter in her fingers; and that was his problem.
Boldly, he stepped closer to her. "It's one or the other," he said. "The two of us either live together here sensibly, or you'll have to kill me."
"Don't you come no nearer," said Lela, but her voice lacked conviction. She added, falteringly, "I've got to have marrying."
Cargill said urgently, "You know I've got to stick with you. Where else would I go?"
He stepped closer, so close that when she put up the gun, the end of the tube touched his shirt. "I'm going to stay, but I won't be bossed, and I won't be put off."
Deliberately, he pushed against the gun. She started to back away. He reached out and caught her shoulders with his fingers. Ignoring the gun, he pulled her gently into his
In one sense it was a mistake to think in terms of "soul," for such belief had a religious significance which automatically implied the belief was non-scientific, dependent on faith, incapable of being tested. Whereas, if there were phenomena, it would have manifested in innumerable ways, and would automatically be subject to laws. The fact that these laws might not be the same as those of the space-tune continuum, known as the material universe, would not prevent them from being correlated in a scientific fashion.
"If," thought Cargill, as he entered the floater behind Lela, "I'm an energy field in the real universe, every time that field manifests itself somebody says 'Aha!' and we've got another philosophy."
He had a very strong conviction that it was a riddle he would have to resolve.
The days went by. Each morning their floater would drift up as high as its light-driven motor could carry them. On very clear, bright days that was as high as three miles. A thick mist could bring them down to within half a mile of the ground. And on a muggy or rainy day they had difficulty in clearing the higher hills. At such times, two or three hundred yards seemed to be their top altitude.
It was a strange, almost timeless existence, with nothing to do except watch the ground or lie on a cot and sleep, or sit in the all-room of the ship and plan escape.
Lela was the obstacle. It seemed to Cargill that he had never seen a girl so tense and wary. She slept in the control room, with the door locked. And yet, if he stirred, her light went on and he could see her watching him through the transparent door. That happened not just once, but every time. Her alertness baffled all his schemes. The end of this phase of their relationship came one night—Cargill wasn't sure whether it was the tenth or eleventh day since their escape; he had lost track of time.
As the floater settled to the grass beside a stream, he opened the outer door, stepped down and walked rapidly off among the trees. A muffled yell sounded from behind him. The beam of a powerful searchlight pierced the gathering twilight and silhouetted him in its glare. A hundred feet ahead of him a tree fell, seared and smoldering.
Cargill, who hadn't expected her to be able to fire at him from inside the control room, stopped short. Slowly, angrily, he returned to the ship. He had planned a showdown if he failed, and the moment had come.
Lela met him at the door, tense and furious. "You were trying to run away," she accused.
Cargill stopped and glared at her. "You bet I was. What do you think I'm made of—stone?"
His tone must have conveyed part of his meaning, for some of the anger faded out of the girl. Oddly enough, to some extent, the implication was true. As a single man in the army, he had learned not to be too discriminating about his girls. After eleven days alone with Lela, he no longer felt as critical of her. She had a youthful prettiness, and there was more than enough passion in her to satisfy any man.
But his purpose was more than conquest of a woman. He intended to take full control of the floater. He stared at her now, where she stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from inside. She held a spitter in her fingers; and that was his problem.
Boldly, he stepped closer to her. "It's one or the other," he said. "The two of us either live together here sensibly, or you'll have to kill me."
"Don't you come no nearer," said Lela, but her voice lacked conviction. She added, falteringly, "I've got to have marrying."
Cargill said urgently, "You know I've got to stick with you. Where else would I go?"
He stepped closer, so close that when she put up the gun, the end of the tube touched his shirt. "I'm going to stay, but I won't be bossed, and I won't be put off."
Deliberately, he pushed against the gun. She started to back away. He reached out and caught her shoulders with his fingers. Ignoring the gun, he pulled her gently into his
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