The Mile Long Spaceship (15 page)

"That's all, Mrs. Staley. Just do like the radio said and stay in the house. If your husband is an accountant, he's probably helping them out in the city, just like we out here are doing. So don't worry about him."

Thunder sounded from the south and lingered reverberatingly in the still air, and one of the men whined, "Come on. Let's get back. I don't want to be out in any more rain as long as I live." They talked in low tones for a second and as the first drops of rain fell, they all ran for the car. They would quit for the night now.

Warren waited until the car had disappeared around the curve of the road and only the spattering of the raindrops was to be heard before be moved from his prone position on the roof. Cautiously he eased his way down to the edge of the slight incline and then let himself drop to the ground. Remembering the tell-tale rectangle of light from the front door, he let himself in the back way with his key. He was shaking the rain from his coat when Amy came into the kitchen, a gun leveled at his stomach.

"Warren!" She let the gun fall with a clatter and ran to him sobbing in her relief. For an instant she clung to him shaking, unable to speak. Then she took in his wet clothing and she paled more. "Warren! You've been in the rain! Take them off!" She began pulling at his coat frantically, abruptly stopped and ordered him, "Take them off right now. I'll get some others for you. But you have to shower first."

Warren pulled her back into the room. "Amy, Amy, you too?" He sighed wearily. "The rain isn't dangerously radioactive." The words came out flat from too much reiteration, "You could stand in it a year and it wouldn't hurt you. Over and over we're saying it, have said it, and will continue to say it, but still no one will believe us. Honey, it's all right." At the look of continuing doubt in her eyes, he shrugged hopelessly and started to take off the coat. "Okay, honey. But only because it isn't comfortable being wet."

Amy brought his robe to the bathroom while he showered. She had insisted and he hadn't the strength to resist. The shower was cool and hard against his skin, and for the first time for a week, he realized how tired he really was. He closed his eyes and let the stinging water beat the tiredness out of his bones, out of his mind.

Only a week since the world had been sane, and orderly in its own fashion of disorderliness. Reluctantly he turned off the water and rubbed himself briskly with the oversized towel. He followed the scent of coffee toward the kitchen tying his robe about him as he went. He paused for a long minute at the doorway of the boys' room. Timmy was hanging half way out of his bed as always, and Larry was in that impossible position of knees and chest that two-year-olds find so comfortable. He resisted the impulse to awaken them for a goodnight kiss, and settled for the long look.

"How is it in town?" Amy was cool and efficient, only her eyes displaying the terrible anxiety the week had brought her. She was a worrier way down where it didn't show. The outside she presented to the world was always very much in possession of her methodical mind. Only tonight she had shown the strain twice and now her face was drawn and unreal looking, and her voice, naturally low and throaty, was consciously restrained.

"Pretty bad. All hell has broken loose, and God only knows where it will end." Warren refused to let his mind dwell on the riots in town and asked instead, "Was that the first time anyone has come here?"

"Yes. After you called Tuesday, I stayed here. No one has been by at all. But I keep hearing shots and there were fires down in the village. I could see the glare." She brought his eggs and ham then and sat opposite him as he started to eat. "Warren, I don't understand what is happening."

"No one else does either, honey. The whole world has gone crazy all at once. London, Paris, Moscow, Bombay, Bonn. Everywhere the reports were of rioting and panic, and then silence. No more radio or television. The ham sets bring in some news, of course, but it's all just like our own. The people are taking over, scientists and their works being destroyed as fast as the people can get to them." He was eating and talking automatically, without emotion.

It had come as a shock to realize that all over the world the masses of people had rebelled at the same time with apparently the same reason and the same means of carrying out their purpose. Numbers, force of numbers. The incredible force of numbers rising in revolt against science. He pushed it aside and said urgently, "But we'll talk about that later. I only have a few hours, and I have to clean out my safe here and be ready to get the helicopter again. Tomorrow a helicopter will pick up you and the boys and take you to the mountains. There is a lodge. Some of the other women will be there by the time you get there. You'll be safe there until I can join you."

"Warren, I just can't go off like that! What about the house? And you? They think you are an accountant, not a scientist." She gasped incredulously then as the implication of what he had said reached her. "Do you mean the government can't control this? It might go on and on?"

Warren had experienced her surprise when he first faced the appalling fact that the government right now was only a voice that commanded without the means to enforce orders. And no one listened to that voice. Tuesday he had been so sure that it was a momentary thing. They would go home and sleep it off, and that would be that. They set a few fires, and broke a few windows, but that would be the end of the worst riot New York had ever witnessed. Wednesday it had been worse, and Thursday the whole country was doing it.

He said, "Amy, you have to trust me. This is more than just a few malcontents blowing steam. It's the majority of the people. For nearly twenty years they have lived under the shadow of the bombs and the fear of radioactivity and Monday's telecast of that crackpot doctor was the fuse that blew the lid." He didn't know how to tell her, couldn't find the right words to say that the world had come apart at the seams. Monday night had been the deciding factor, and one no one had foreseen. Dr. Moray had adlibbed that remark about radioactivity and the world had become galvanized with fear. The telecast had been world wide. A panel discussion of results compiled into a world report on the great findings of the geophysical year. A non-political discussion that even the Russians had accepted as harmless for their people to see and hear, especially since they were being represented by one of their leading scientists.

The doctor had said in reply to a question about longevity, "Purely academic, at the rate we're poisoning the atmosphere with radioactivity, three out of four persons now living will die from cancer anyway." The censors had cut the program before he could continue that—barring accidents, and barring another war,
cancer was the only major killer left, regardless of additional radioactivity in the atmosphere.

The following day the devil stalked the earth and fired the people. It had been said at various times in numerous ways that the fallout was endangering the race, but that one remark heard simultaneously throughout the world had been the deciding factor. Twenty years of cold wars, of fears, of drafts and high taxes, all in the non-touchable realm of government, but science and its high priests could be got at, chopped down, exorcised and obliterated. In six days man created the laboratory and in the seventh he destroyed it.

Tuesday had been normal when he had left home. He had parked the car at the train station as always and sat chatting with his nearest neighbor all the way to the city. He made it a point not to talk about his work ever. They all thought he was an accountant, and he managed to give the impression that he was a disgruntled one at that, preferring not to remind himself of the revolting job he had.

The conversation with his neighbor had started out innocently enough. He had made some inane comment about the weather. They always discussed weather, taxes, the current sport, and cars. In that order. He had opened with the suggestion that they could use some rain.

"Hope it doesn't start until I get home. I sure don't want to get out in the rain anymore. Shame, isn't it? When I was a kid, there wasn't anything I liked better than walking in the rain. But guess that's all over now like so many of the things." He shifted noisily and glanced down the aisle way toward a small quiet looking man who rode the suburban train each morning. "Say, do you know that fellow?" He inclined his head, but admonished, "Don't make a point of looking, but turn and see."

"Why?" Warren grinned. "Think he's wanted or something?" He glanced back and asked, "He rides all the time, doesn't he? Looks like a clerk or something."

"Think so? I think he looks like a scientist. You know, sly and deep looking like he's thinking of something new to invent to kill people with." There was malice and fear in the tone, and the man's soft looking face had grown hard and cold with hate as he turned once more to look at the little man. He was silent for a moment then as he worked his full lips.

Warren realized that he was memorizing the little man's appearance. That was the first he noticed out of the ordinary that day.

Abruptly his traveling companion had said, "What do you think about what the doctor said last night?"

Inwardly Warren had prepared himself for the question, summarizing what he, in his role of accountant, could be expected to know about radioactivity. He didnt get the opportunity to express himself however. The other continued in a hurried tone.

"We were down in the lodge hall last night when he was on. My wife picked me up later and came in for awhile. She and the other women heard him. We don't like it. Those scientists make me sick. Pretending to be trying to make life better with new medicines and inventions. All they care about is finding out the best way to get rid of the most people fastest. I read all about how the earth is supposed to get more and more crowded each year until there won't be enough food to go around, so now the scientists are taking care of that problem by poisoning everyone with radioactivity." The words came out in a rush, pent up words that had sought release for years. The subconscious thoughts of the man had dwelt on the fear of the bomb for so long that he couldn't control his emotions once the words started out. He was pale now where he had been florid, tense where he had been sublimely at ease.

Warren felt mildly shocked that he hadn't realized the extent of the fear that everyone knew was present. They had known for some years, hence the need for the cover-up jobs for the people in the Institute. Jobs such as lawyers, accountants, ad men, anything was more acceptable than scientist. Now he was glad that Amy had finally convinced him to set himself up in the eyes of their new neighbors as an accountant. He had scoffed, had begrudged the time the new location required for the daily trips into town, had missed the closer association with his colleagues, had hated the almost daily chores he found himself doing instead of hiring someone else to do. He found himself suddenly wordless before the accusations of the man beside him. This was no new-formed idea that had come to the man. He had obviously thought about it considerably and at great length, that all his fears were to be laid directly at the feet of the scientists.

Warren looked cautiously about then, and everywhere in the car saw little huddles of men speaking quietly, intently, seriously. He was glad when his stop finally came and he alighted.

In town it was so much worse. Workers with their lunch pails stood in groups, not making any noise. Just talking. A bunch of women stood before the branch office of the telephone company. Just talking. Taxi drivers, four of them, oblivious of his presence until he touched one of them on the shoulder. Just talking.

"Science Institute? Sorry, mister. Better take the subway. Two cars got turned over going in there a while back." They stared curiously at him as he walked away, until he disappeared around the corner toward the subway.

He changed his mind before he got to the subway, though. He had an inkling of what it would be like. Just talking. For now. What would come of it? With a frown of annoyance he realized that he was frightened. Not for himself, not of personal danger, but for the Institute, for science itself. It could be damaging in so many ways. Appropriations indirectly from the people through their congressmen. School curriculums indirectly through their backers. He had felt anger mostly that Tuesday. Obviously his office would bear the brunt of the blame. Public relations always did when a howl arose. They must have failed to convince anyone, if one inadvertent remark on television could set off so many people. The chief would be hopping this morning, and Warren sighed to himself, he would be the one to get hopped on.

He walked to the Institute and everywhere it was the same. Clusters, groups, pairs. They talked. The night workers forgot about going home to bed, and the day workers forgot about opening hours and time clocks. They were quiet, disorganized, content to air their grievances with one another right now. Later they would make up a delegation. And as each group would think it the only one with enough sense to do so, there would be quite a gathering of delegations, and together they would march on the government offices. Perhaps on the Institute itself for demonstrations. It could get rough.

They tried radio and television. They sent trucks through the streets blaring their answer to the charges being hurled at them from every corner. Three of their trucks were mobbed and returned with a new annoyance, a spokesman repeating over and over that they should vacate the building and let the people destroy it as it deserved.

Warren brought himself back to the present with a start and knew he had been asleep. His head was on his arm on the table and the whole arm tingled as the circulation slowly returned. He grinned at Amy and shrugged, "Sorry, honey. How long have I been out?"

"Just half an hour, darling. You're so tired, try to rest before you have to leave again." She was being cool now, acting as though he were leaving on one of his numerous trips. She indicated a small overnight case. "I got together some of the things you'll need. Not much. I thought you might not be able to take much."