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violent rages; evidently, flown in for the emergency, Old Men employees were trying to keep them
under control.
The final door opened; the occifer stepped aside, said, Here, and strode off, back the way they
had come.
Willis Gram was not in his big, rumpled bed. He sat, instead, on a chair at the far end of the
room, evidently at peace; his face seemed composed and tranquil.
Charlotte Boyer, Nick said, is dead.
Who? Gram blinked, turned to focus his attention on Nick. Oh. Yeah. He lifted his hands,
palms up. They took away my telepathic ability. I m just an Old Man now.
An intercom on his desk said suddenly, Council Chairman, we have installed the second laser
system, this one on the roof of the Carriager Building, and twenty seconds from now it will have
focused its beam on the same spot as the Baltimore laser system.
Gram said loudly, Provoni s still standing there?
Yes. The Baltimore beam is directly on him. When we add the Kansas City beam, we will
virtually double the power at function-level.
Keep me informed, Gram said. Thanks. He turned to Nick. Today, Gram was fully dressed:
business pantaloons, silk blouse with frilly sleeves, pie-plate shoes. He was groomed, nattily dressed,
and calm. I m sorry about the girl, he said. I m sorry, but not really sorry not if you really get
down to the bottom of it as I might have been if I d known her better. He rubbed his face wearily, it
had been freshly powdered, and a white layer came off on his hands; he slapped them together
irritably. I m not wasting any tears for the New Men, he said, his lips twisting. It s their fault. You
know about a man, a New Man, called Amos Ild?
Of course, Nick said.
Absolutely no possibility, Gram said, That he s brought an alien back with him.
Neutrologics, which the rest of us, Old Men and Under Men and Unusuals, can t understand. Well,
there s nothing to understand, it doesn t work. Amos Ild was just an eccentric, fiddling with millions
of components for his Great Ear project. He was insane.
Where is he now? Nick said.
Off somewhere playing with paperweights, Gram said. Setting up intricate balance-systems
for them, using rulers as the support bars. He grinned. And he ll be doing it the rest of his life.
How far has the destruction of neurological tissue spread, geographically speaking? Nick
asked. Over the whole planet? To Luna and Mars?
I don t know. Most communications circuits aren t being manned; there s nobody, just plain
nobody, on the other end. Which is eerie.
You ve called Peking? Moscow? Sumatra One?
I ll tell you who I ve called, Gram said. The Extraordinary Committee for Public Safety.
Nick said, And they no longer exist.
Nodding, Gram said, He it killed them. Scooped out their skulls, left them empty. Except for
the diencephalon, for some reason. They left that.
The vegetative functions, Nick said.
Yeah, we could have kept them alive like vegetables. But it wasn t worth it; I told the different
doctors to let them die, once I knew the extent of brain damage. That applies only to the New Men,
however. There are two Unusuals on the Public Safety Committee, a precog and a telepath. Their
talents are gone, same as mine. But we re alive. For a while.
It won t do anything more to you, Nick said. Now that you re an Old Man, you re in no more
danger than I.
What did you want to see me about? Gram asked, turning to face him. To tell me about
Charlotte? To make me feel guilty? Christ, there re a million little bitches like her slinking around in
the world; you can get yourself another in half an hour.
Nick said, You sent three black pissers to kill me. They killed Denny Strong instead, and
because of his death we couldn t handle the Sea Cow; hence the crash. Hence her death. You set up the
train of circumstances; it all emanated from you.
I ll call off the black troopers, Gram said.
That s not enough, Nick said.
The intercom burbled into life. Council Chairman, both laser beams are now directed at the
target spot, Thors Provoni.
What results? Gram asked, standing rigidly, supporting his great bulk by holding onto the desk.
They re being passed to me now, the intercom said.
Gram, silently, waited.
No visible change. No, sir, no change.
Three laser systems, Gram said huskily. If we brought in the one from Detroit
Sir, we can t really operate what we have properly. The mental illness that s attacking the New
Men means we lack
Thanks, Gram said, and shut the intercom off. Mental illness, he said, in ferocious
mockery. If only that s what it was. Something you could cure in a sanitarium. What do they call
that? Psychogenic?
Nick said, I d like to see Amos Ild. Balancing paperweights on rulers. The greatest intellect
produced so far by the race of man, he thought. Neanderthal, homo sapiens, then New Men
evolution. And using the New Man neutrologics, he had struck out; he had batted 000. But maybe
Gram is right, he thought. Maybe Amos Ild was always insane . . . but we had no way of measuring a
unique brain like his, no standard by which to judge.
It s a good thing we re rid of Ild, he thought. It s a good thing we re rid of all of them, he
thought. Maybe all the New Men, in one sense or another, were insane. It s just a question of degree.
And their neutrologics the logic of the insane.
You look lousy, Gram said. You better get medical help; I can see that your arm s broken.
To your infirmary? Nick said. As you call it?
They re competent medically, Gram said. It s strange, he said, half to himself, I keep
listening for your thoughts and they never come. I have only your words to go on. He cocked his
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