Contdown to Midnight vers 2, page 24
As special permits were needed to get into the range, we had to return to Sector Seven, from where I telephoned the commanding general for permission, which was granted a|; once. We donned protective garb and entered the range. Hers I we soon found Barton’s trail again, which showed that he had‘ headed for the biological zone. Background radiation increased in volume at every step. Soon, at about two hundred yards in, it damped the trail entirely. We had to go back and ask the guard commander for a sleuth hound. He was dead set against it. “It means murdering the poor dog,” he said. We had again to call the general, who at once gave the respective order. The guard commander cradled the receiver with livid face, but, nevertheless, immediately summoned handler and dog. The man quickly put on the protective suit and was about to set out, when the dog-loving guard commander demanded that he bring in the respective paraphernalia for the animal too. This was absurd, as the hound would never pick up the scent unless its head were left unguarded.
The dog picked up the trail confidently, but when we reached the Bingo Bess test area, it gave a long drawn-out whine and refused to budge. Indeed, further on the grass was burnt, to a frazzle except for a few tufts of sage. Squatting back on its haunches, with nose pointed at the sky, the whining dog looked so human, that I felt my flesh creep. As the dog was doomed and was of no further use, we put it out of its misery with a well-aimed shot behind the ear. Why on earth had the guard commander kept us waiting for the dog to be garbed? No doubt he’s president of some SPCA local.
I scanned the field through my binoculars and at once deduced where Barton had gone. There was nothing but rotting plain right up to the horizon and on it a lonely A-tank stood silhouetted like a sore thumb. That was the only place he could have gone.
Background irradiation was up the full pitch and remained steady. Inside the tank frontal irradiation jumped sharply due to the intensively contaminated mass of metal.
Barton, as one of the members of the Bingo Bess project team, knew where the sheep would be during the test. His subconscious mind had directed his steps this way during last night’s sleep-walking. It was quite likely that he had received his first dose during a similar nocturnal trance—about which he had not the foggiest notion upon awaking next morning. A thorough inspection disclosed the imprint of ungloved fingers on every lubricated spot both inside and outside the tank. As nobody else had received any radiological dose in the post-test period, except Barton, it was only logical to assume that these were his fingermarks. Hence, there was no need for dactyloscopic analysis. And as far as I, in my capacity as forensic and army physician, could judge, the fingermarks had been made quite recently, not more than a few days ago. Accordingly, I had enough ground to go upon to believe that Barton had got his first dose in precisely this manner.
I now considered my assignment discharged. There was no earthly reason for me to stay any longer inside the tank, all the more since the remains of the dead sheep presented a most gruesome sight. The rotted fleece, teeth and bones floated in a repulsive plasma. For a moment I imagined a town, its buildings and other structures completely untouched, but with all its people overtaken by this invisible and intangible neutron bombardment while they had been attending to their customary daily affairs.
God forbid that this ever take place. We climbed out of the tank and retraced our steps. For a few moments we stood in silent homage by the body of the dead dog. The poor creature had had not the slightest notion that its life would end in this squalid fashion. Barton had signed its death sentence. Ah, those physicists! They themselves don’t realize what they’re doing! First the A-bomb, next the H-bomb, and now Bingo Bess.
No doubt they have quite a burden on their consciences. For otherwise, why these nocturnal rambles? And where did he get the strength? After all he’s dying. I’m no physicist and have had no part in the invention of all these horrors, but 1 bet I’ll have nightmares for long after everything seen inside that tank.
It’s a good thing, though, that I’m no physicist and no soldier either. My mission is to relieve human suffering.
AUG. 8. Hospital Staff Room
The MO strode in with his customary loping gait. He removed his slicker and shook it free of the raindrops. The smell of fresh rain at once filled the room.
“Most odd,” he said, nodding a hello to Tawolski. “How come the weather’s gone rotten so suddenly? Never expected it! Well, what’s cooking?”
“I’ve cancelled the transplantation.”
“Correct. He’s absolutely hopeless. You can put him on drugs from tomorrow. What’s he like now?”
“In a delirium. Keeps on calling for a girl who, he says, lives in Medan.”
“How’s his temperature?”
“Still at 99.8. The blood pressure’s likewise the same. As for the blood, we’ll have to wait, I suppose.”
“Yes, but it’s bad, in fact, couldn’t be worse. Indeed, che sara, sara. Who’d ever thought of it? Poor chap. Abe, I was a bit overwrought this morning. So don’t take it all so much to heart. And … the general’s asked us to keep the entire case under wraps.”
Tawolski nodded.
“Good! As for Nurse, I’ll handle her. So, we don’t mention any second irradiation, okay? How much is it now?”
“Four hundred.”
The MO shook his head. “The end’s in sight,” he said. “What about Cowan?”
“Not in the picture so far.”
“That’s good. Find some excuse to send him away. No, I’ll better do that myself.”
“Cowan expects the skin to shed and all hair to fall out. We’ve got to do something to sustain the water in the tissues. And one more thing. I’d like to make a complete transfusion.”
The MO shrugged and moved off to the window.
It seemed to Tawolski as if he could read the MO’s mind like an open book.
“What for?” he seemed to intimate. “He’s doomed and you’ll only be prolonging his agony. Why did God have to ordain such an end? Let him at least the in peace.”
“Well, if you insist,” the MO said succinctly, emphasizing the last word. “I won’t object.”
“Well, then,” Tawolski said dully, “we’ll do the transfusion and also try hypothermia.”
The MO did not reply. Then, with an abrupt gesture, he removed hi» eyeglasses.
“Do anything you think necessary, Abe,” he said. “But keep these two things in mind. First,” and he bent a Anger, “don’t make your compassion harrow either yourself or him. Second,” and he bent one more finger, “I’m sanctioning drugs, in short am acting in contravention of regulations. However, he deserves a more or less peaceable end. Please understand! It’s not of you or me that we’re thinking about, but only him. Only! Or perhaps you think there’s a thousand-to-one chance, a shred of hope? If you do, tell me, and I promise I’ll do all that’s humanly possible. Well?”
“I don’t think there’s any hope at all. Several hours ago, perhaps… . But not now. Nothing’ll help… . But… but there’s something … well, I don’t quite know how to put it You see, over these past few days I’ve come to understand him. He’s a genius. If we could give him one more hour, even should nobody ever hear his thoughts, it’ll be better for all of us. Do you understand?”
“I can’t say I do. But I’m giving you a free hand. It’s all up to you, and to you alone. I can’t give you orders.”
“Thanks!” Tawolski rose slowly, instinctively trying to smooth the creased back of his tunic with one hand, and holding a loose button in his other.
The MO tried to tear his eyes away from Tawoiski’s hunched back as the latter went out. With all the force his will could command he kept his head turned towards the window. However, at the very last moment, he swivelled round again to catch sight of the narrowing crack of closing door.
An idea flashed through his mind, and for some reason he thought he was seeing Tawolski for the last time. But then the usual plethora of routine cares eased the constriction he felt in his chest.
AUG. 8. 19**. 10 A.M. Temp. 100.6. Pulse: 96. BP: 150/110
“Miss R. was greatly surprised when she saw her brother seated at her bedside. *How come’, she thought, ‘when he lives across the ocean?’ She tried to speak, but could not get m sound out. When, at last, she regained self-possession, and said something, he rose, went towards the electric fireplace, and melted into the air like a ghostly wraith. Next morning Miss R. told her family about what she had seen when she. had so suddenly woken up in the midst of the previous night.. She seemed to be in deep confusion, reiterating again and again that she was greatly concerned for her brother’s health. The family did their best to console the girl, assuring her that she had no doubt dreamed it all.
“However that evening a cable came, saying that Miss R.‘s brother had given up the ghost that very minute she had seen him at her bedside.”
The book dropped out of Barton’s limp fingers, but he was of no mind to bother Nurse about it.
How trite it seemed. Items of that nature, appearing in books, newspapers and scholarly communications dealing with para-psychology, had been legion. Miss R. was probably as dumb as they make them, a typical Pollyanna who was liable to swoon at the slightest provocation. Back in the 1930’s what they’d called necrobiotic rays had made a sensation. But then everything had died down. The enigma remained, though. Kindred souls did seem to be in empathic rapport, despite distance. There seemed to be no reason to doubt that. But what about the millions of good citizens lacking this gift? Or, perhaps, curse? What am I to do if I can’t feel Denise? And what is Denise to do, when she doesn’t even suspect that I’m dying? It is certainly tempting and easy to blithely dismiss it all. Pure bunkum, nothing more. But supposing it isn’t? Supposing I do have a very real chance of communicating a last farewell to her?
What a cannily insinuating thing hope is! It steals up by hook or by crook, under any guise. Begone self-solace, begone sweet opium. It’s senseless, and only drains me of my last meagre resources of time and strength.
But if? Well, let’s presume it does exist. But let’s forget about it, or rather about how to turn it to use. I am about to die. Let’s better see, on this day of the 8th of August how we can study the possible physical methods that may exist for the propagation of the “psi” effect. That is the most essential thing.
Let us start with paradoxes. Neither distance nor the laws of cause and effect affect the signal, in a nutshell, there are a number of controversial cases when effect precedes cause. Can such a thing happen? In principle, yes. The neutrino, for instance, so feebly interacts with matter that, to all practical intents, it experiences no impedimenta even when passing through millions of suns. If telepathic information is carried by the neutrino or other similar particles, it will not tend to scatter within the earth’s biosphere. In short Paradox No. I ia easy enough to explain. The others are tougher. Only if we forego the accepted notions and conceptions of time and space, can we presume to find the answer.
What a life-saver mental gymnastics is! Cogito, ergo sum! No! I exist because I think! The idea has gone on the instant, like the shutter dropping in a camera. You fly far away from the earth. Not you really, but something, or rather, nothing. All else remains. Only you go, never to return, only you crumble to dust and lose the accumulated memories. Death is amnesia complete. The body may live on, but if memory is lost, everything is lost. Death is when you are not aware that you are dead. At first, your voice is forgotten, and then … My voice, did I say?
“Nurse, do me a favour and bring me a dictaphone. I can’t write, you see.”
If we take the results of telepathic experiments for granted, we find ourselves obliged to note three paradoxes.
Item: telepathic communication is not affected by distance, with communication over two thousand miles proving as successful as over twenty yards.
Item: such communication is not effected by any of the senses or through the propagation of mental electromagnetic waves. Indeed, electromagnetism generally cannot carry such . information—which seems to have been amply demonstrated by experiments conducted within metal cabins that were impervious to radiowaves.
Item: some recorded cases of spontaneous telepathy and clairvoyance conflict with the laws of causality.
I shall neither uphold or debunk the truth of these paradoxes as I have neither the necessary empirical data nor dicta that need to be defended from natural encroachment. What is far more important and interesting is to see how well the cited paradoxes accord or conflict with the basic laws of the modern natural sciences.
To begin with, paradox No. 1. It is possible, should: a) the material carrier be a type of energy that will not tend to scatter in space, and, b) all humans be linked by a special ”telepathic“ field. In the first case, the neutrino may serve as such a carrier, as matter practically fails to absorb it. At any rate, in the earth’s biosphere such absorption is negligible and cm be discounted. In the second case, we may presume that not only inductor and percipient, but also an unknown number of other people are involved, in which case the signal may be amplified, as within m photo-multiplier, for instance.
Naturally, the first explanation is simplest. Even for the ordinary reason that it does not introduce my more unknowns into the physical environment and describes the given phenomenon by means of tangibly existing objects.
Paradox No. 2. In effect, it is removed from the agenda by the explanation we have provided for the preceding paradox. Accordingly, we may even suggest an experiment to verify the explanation provided. If the neutrino is indeed the material carrier, then the value of the neutrino background may influence the telepathic intensity. In short, experiments analogous to those conducted within the metal cabin may be staged in the vicinity of an atomic reactor, where large quantities of neutrinos are emitted in the process of beta-decay.
However, the neutrino hypothesis has several obstacles that need to be overcome. In the first place, it is not always clear as to which of the four neutrino types carries telepathic communications. True, in principle, this is of no particular significance. Except for its putting added complications in the way of the experiment.
Finally, before we end with paradoxes Nos. I and 2, we may postulate a combined hypothesis to presume that all humans are linked by a neutrino field. True, though there is apparently no need for this hypothesis, we must set it out if we do not wish to transgress upon the laws of logic.
Paradox No. 3. This is the trickiest and the most vulnerable to opponents of telepathy. To explain it we must either discard established, basic conceptions cf time and space, or at least enlist the most original and daring ideas and theories that physicists are putting forward nowadays. The first alternative leads us onto the dubious path of nebulous hypotheses as to the existence of more than three dimensions and the like.
Meanwhile, as for the original theories now being suggested, they are, for the most part, unconvincing. Still we shall have to equip ourselves with them too.
One is the theory cf what is called closed time cycle, which turns such notions as past and future into relative concepts, even outside the context cf the special theory of relativity. If we espouse this idea, it will be logical to assume that the human brain will be able to chart the future with the aid of the neutrino. However, we can dispense even with this theory.‘ Some postulate, of course, absolutely out of any connection with telepathy, that the specific aspects of the neutrino’s behaviour stem from its moving from the future into the past,. not vice versa, as is the case with all the objects we are accustomed to. Incidentally, this has been brilliantly confirmed mathematically. For us it is of interest, insofar as it provides an adequate explanation for paradox No. 3.
We may also take the more formal approach, based on the law of the conservation of combined sequence, from which it follows that all interactions are invariant relative to the time inversion. Which implies that the description of an interaction will not change if we replace ‘future’ by ‘past’.
“Nurse, please switch the thing off, I have no further need for it.”
The sensation is most odd. I’ve never had so much spare time as now. I’m in a position to bring any idea to its logical conclusion. I can trace the entire route from the obscure, winding sources to the thundering waterfall, when it, realized and anaemic, splashes down into memory’s depths or fades into the purring of the recording tape.
Then comes a moment when a flash breaks away from this flow to notch its way into the heart. By itself it is nothing, but it is able to evoke associations.
Man charts the future. No frog-eyed clairvoyant, mind you, no croaking Cassandra, no mescaline-doped medium. Just a nice young Ph.D. in an up-to-the-minute lab, at Princeton, say. He turns a knob, and sees himself projected several years into the future in the reflected neutrino ray. No hallucination this, but a doubly and trebly checked experimental result, one that arouses not the slightest doubt. Hence, if he sees his own reflection, he will be prepared to run risks for the sake of science. Since he exists in the future, he cannot the at this moment. So he pulls out a pistol, cocks it and brings it up to point at his forehead. Then he squeezes his eyes, and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He pulls the trigger again, and again nothing happens.
If I were a writer, that’s the kind of stories I would write.
Denise! Do you remember that green patch of light and the splashing of the tide and the invisible black shore, and the swaying fish? Like a spellbound fish he rides with the waves, up and down. Do you remember that night on the pier, Denise? That last ray of light, that last smell of freshness and then the plunge into the cold of darkness. Do visit me in my dreams, Denise! At least for one last time to say goodbye. It seems as if it was only yesterday, that starry night and the frothing tide.
