The Variable Man - 6
Total number of words is 1711
Total number of unique words is 693
55.1 of words are in the 2000 most common words
69.7 of words are in the 5000 most common words
77.6 of words are in the 8000 most common words
the ftl object back into this universe without collision. Without an
explosion. The variable man found what Hedge was after...."
The whole Council was on its feet. A growing murmur filled the
chamber, a rising pandemonium breaking out on all sides.
"I don't believe it!" Reinhart gasped. "It isn't possible. If Cole
solved Hedge's problem that would mean--" He broke off, staggered.
"Faster than light drive can now be used for space travel," Sherikov
continued, waving the noise down. "As Hedge intended. My men have
studied the photographs of the control turret. They don't know _how_
or _why_, yet. But we have complete records of the turret. We can
duplicate the wiring, as soon as the laboratories have been repaired."
Comprehension was gradually beginning to settle over the room. "Then
it'll be possible to build ftl ships," Margaret Duffe murmured, dazed.
"And if we can do that--"
"When I showed him the control turret, Cole understood its purpose.
Not _my_ purpose, but the original purpose Hedge had been working
toward. Cole realized Icarus was actually an incomplete spaceship, not
a bomb at all. He saw what Hedge had seen, an ftl space drive. He set
out to make Icarus work."
"We can go _beyond_ Centaurus," Dixon muttered. His lips twisted.
"Then the war was trivial. We can leave the Empire completely behind.
We can go beyond the galaxy."
"The whole universe is open to us," Sherikov agreed. "Instead of
taking over an antiquated Empire, we have the entire cosmos to map and
explore, God's total creation."
Margaret Duffe got to her feet and moved slowly toward the great
stellar maps that towered above them at the far end of the chamber.
She stood for a long time, gazing up at the myriad suns, the legions
of systems, awed by what she saw.
"Do you suppose he realized all this?" she asked suddenly. "What we
can see, here on these maps?"
"Thomas Cole is a strange person," Sherikov said, half to himself.
"Apparently he has a kind of intuition about machines, the way things
are supposed to work. An intuition more in his hands than in his head.
A kind of genius, such as a painter or a pianist has. Not a scientist.
He has no verbal knowledge about things, no semantic references. He
deals with the things themselves. Directly.
"I doubt very much if Thomas Cole understood what would come about. He
looked into the globe, the control turret. He saw unfinished wiring
and relays. He saw a job half done. An incomplete machine."
"Something to be fixed," Margaret Duffe put in.
"Something to be fixed. Like an artist, he saw his work ahead of him.
He was interested in only one thing: turning out the best job he
could, with the skill he possessed. For us, that skill has opened up a
whole universe, endless galaxies and systems to explore. Worlds
without end. Unlimited, _untouched_ worlds."
Reinhart got unsteadily to his feet. "We better get to work. Start
organizing construction teams. Exploration crews. We'll have to
reconvert from war production to ship designing. Begin the manufacture
of mining and scientific instruments for survey work."
"That's right," Margaret Duffe said. She looked reflectively up at
him. "But you're not going to have anything to do with it."
Reinhart saw the expression on her face. His hand flew to his gun and
he backed quickly toward the door. Dixon leaped up and joined him.
"Get back!" Reinhart shouted.
Margaret Duffe signalled and a phalanx of Government troops closed in
around the two men. Grim-faced, efficient soldiers with magnetic
grapples ready.
Reinhart's blaster wavered--toward the Council members sitting shocked
in their seats, and toward Margaret Duffe, straight at her blue eyes.
Reinhart's features were distorted with insane fear. "Get back! Don't
anybody come near me or she'll be the first to get it!"
Peter Sherikov slid from the table and with one great stride swept his
immense bulk in front of Reinhart. His huge black-furred fist rose in
a smashing arc. Reinhart sailed against the wall, struck with ringing
force and then slid slowly to the floor.
The Government troops threw their grapples quickly around him and
jerked him to his feet. His body was frozen rigid. Blood dripped from
his mouth. He spat bits of tooth, his eyes glazed over. Dixon stood
dazed, mouth open, uncomprehending, as the grapples closed around his
arms and legs.
Reinhart's gun skidded to the floor as he was yanked toward the door.
One of the elderly Council members picked the gun up and examined it
curiously. He laid it carefully on the table. "Fully loaded," he
murmured. "Ready to fire."
Reinhart's battered face was dark with hate. "I should have killed all
of you. _All_ of you!" An ugly sneer twisted across his shredded lips.
"If I could get my hands loose--"
"You won't," Margaret Duffe said. "You might as well not even bother
to think about it." She signalled to the troops and they pulled
Reinhart and Dixon roughly out of the room, two dazed figures,
snarling and resentful.
For a moment the room was silent. Then the Council members shuffled
nervously in their seats, beginning to breathe again.
Sherikov came over and put his big paw on Margaret Duffe's shoulder.
"Are you all right, Margaret?"
She smiled faintly. "I'm fine. Thanks...."
Sherikov touched her soft hair briefly. Then he broke away and began
to pack up his briefcase busily. "I have to go. I'll get in touch with
you later."
"Where are you going?" she asked hesitantly. "Can't you stay and--"
"I have to get back to the Urals." Sherikov grinned at her over his
bushy black beard as he headed out of the room. "Some very important
business to attend to."
* * * * *
Thomas Cole was sitting up in bed when Sherikov came to the door. Most
of his awkward, hunched-over body was sealed in a thin envelope of
transparent airproof plastic. Two robot attendants whirred ceaselessly
at his side, their leads contacting his pulse, blood-pressure,
respiration, body temperature.
Cole turned a little as the huge Pole tossed down his briefcase and
seated himself on the window ledge.
"How are you feeling?" Sherikov asked him.
"Better."
"You see we've quite advanced therapy. Your burns should be healed in
a few months."
"How is the war coming?"
"The war is over."
Cole's lips moved. "Icarus--"
"Icarus went as expected. As _you_ expected." Sherikov leaned toward
the bed. "Cole, I promised you something. I mean to keep my
promise--as soon as you're well enough."
"To return me to my own time?"
"That's right. It's a relatively simple matter, now that Reinhart has
been removed from power. You'll be back home again, back in your own
time, your own world. We can supply you with some discs of platinum or
something of the kind to finance your business. You'll need a new
Fixit truck. Tools. And clothes. A few thousand dollars ought to do
it."
Cole was silent.
"I've already contacted histo-research," Sherikov continued. "The time
bubble is ready as soon as you are. We're somewhat beholden to you, as
you probably realize. You've made it possible for us to actualize our
greatest dream. The whole planet is seething with excitement. We're
changing our economy over from war to--"
"They don't resent what happened? The dud must have made an awful lot
of people feel downright bad."
"At first. But they got over it--as soon as they understood what was
ahead. Too bad you won't be here to see it, Cole. A whole world
breaking loose. Bursting out into the universe. They want me to have
an ftl ship ready by the end of the week! Thousands of applications
are already on file, men and women wanting to get in on the initial
flight."
Cole smiled a little, "There won't be any band, there. No parade or
welcoming committee waiting for them."
"Maybe not. Maybe the first ship will wind up on some dead world,
nothing but sand and dried salt. But everybody wants to go. It's
almost like a holiday. People running around and shouting and throwing
things in the streets.
"Afraid I must get back to the labs. Lots of reconstruction work being
started." Sherikov dug into his bulging briefcase. "By the way.... One
little thing. While you're recovering here, you might like to look at
these." He tossed a handful of schematics on the bed.
Cole picked them up slowly. "What's this?"
"Just a little thing I designed." Sherikov arose and lumbered toward
the door. "We're realigning our political structure to eliminate any
recurrence of the Reinhart affair. This will block any more one-man
power grabs." He jabbed a thick finger at the schematics. "It'll turn
power over to all of us, not to just a limited number one person could
dominate--the way Reinhart dominated the Council.
"This gimmick makes it possible for citizens to raise and decide
issues directly. They won't have to wait for the Council to verbalize
a measure. Any citizen can transmit his will with one of these, make
his needs register on a central control that automatically responds.
When a large enough segment of the population wants a certain thing
done, these little gadgets set up an active field that touches all the
others. An issue won't have to go through a formal Council. The
citizens can express their will long before any bunch of gray-haired
old men could get around to it."
* * * * *
Sherikov broke off, frowning.
"Of course," he continued slowly, "there's one little detail...."
"What's that?"
"I haven't been able to get a model to function. A few bugs.... Such
intricate work never was in my line." He paused at the door. "Well, I
hope I'll see you again before you go. Maybe if you feel well enough
later on we could get together for one last talk. Maybe have dinner
together sometime. Eh?"
But Thomas Cole wasn't listening. He was bent over the schematics, an
intense frown on his weathered face. His long fingers moved restlessly
over the schematics, tracing wiring and terminals. His lips moved as
he calculated.
Sherikov waited a moment. Then he stepped out into the hall and softly
closed the door after him.
He whistled merrily as he strode off down the corridor.
explosion. The variable man found what Hedge was after...."
The whole Council was on its feet. A growing murmur filled the
chamber, a rising pandemonium breaking out on all sides.
"I don't believe it!" Reinhart gasped. "It isn't possible. If Cole
solved Hedge's problem that would mean--" He broke off, staggered.
"Faster than light drive can now be used for space travel," Sherikov
continued, waving the noise down. "As Hedge intended. My men have
studied the photographs of the control turret. They don't know _how_
or _why_, yet. But we have complete records of the turret. We can
duplicate the wiring, as soon as the laboratories have been repaired."
Comprehension was gradually beginning to settle over the room. "Then
it'll be possible to build ftl ships," Margaret Duffe murmured, dazed.
"And if we can do that--"
"When I showed him the control turret, Cole understood its purpose.
Not _my_ purpose, but the original purpose Hedge had been working
toward. Cole realized Icarus was actually an incomplete spaceship, not
a bomb at all. He saw what Hedge had seen, an ftl space drive. He set
out to make Icarus work."
"We can go _beyond_ Centaurus," Dixon muttered. His lips twisted.
"Then the war was trivial. We can leave the Empire completely behind.
We can go beyond the galaxy."
"The whole universe is open to us," Sherikov agreed. "Instead of
taking over an antiquated Empire, we have the entire cosmos to map and
explore, God's total creation."
Margaret Duffe got to her feet and moved slowly toward the great
stellar maps that towered above them at the far end of the chamber.
She stood for a long time, gazing up at the myriad suns, the legions
of systems, awed by what she saw.
"Do you suppose he realized all this?" she asked suddenly. "What we
can see, here on these maps?"
"Thomas Cole is a strange person," Sherikov said, half to himself.
"Apparently he has a kind of intuition about machines, the way things
are supposed to work. An intuition more in his hands than in his head.
A kind of genius, such as a painter or a pianist has. Not a scientist.
He has no verbal knowledge about things, no semantic references. He
deals with the things themselves. Directly.
"I doubt very much if Thomas Cole understood what would come about. He
looked into the globe, the control turret. He saw unfinished wiring
and relays. He saw a job half done. An incomplete machine."
"Something to be fixed," Margaret Duffe put in.
"Something to be fixed. Like an artist, he saw his work ahead of him.
He was interested in only one thing: turning out the best job he
could, with the skill he possessed. For us, that skill has opened up a
whole universe, endless galaxies and systems to explore. Worlds
without end. Unlimited, _untouched_ worlds."
Reinhart got unsteadily to his feet. "We better get to work. Start
organizing construction teams. Exploration crews. We'll have to
reconvert from war production to ship designing. Begin the manufacture
of mining and scientific instruments for survey work."
"That's right," Margaret Duffe said. She looked reflectively up at
him. "But you're not going to have anything to do with it."
Reinhart saw the expression on her face. His hand flew to his gun and
he backed quickly toward the door. Dixon leaped up and joined him.
"Get back!" Reinhart shouted.
Margaret Duffe signalled and a phalanx of Government troops closed in
around the two men. Grim-faced, efficient soldiers with magnetic
grapples ready.
Reinhart's blaster wavered--toward the Council members sitting shocked
in their seats, and toward Margaret Duffe, straight at her blue eyes.
Reinhart's features were distorted with insane fear. "Get back! Don't
anybody come near me or she'll be the first to get it!"
Peter Sherikov slid from the table and with one great stride swept his
immense bulk in front of Reinhart. His huge black-furred fist rose in
a smashing arc. Reinhart sailed against the wall, struck with ringing
force and then slid slowly to the floor.
The Government troops threw their grapples quickly around him and
jerked him to his feet. His body was frozen rigid. Blood dripped from
his mouth. He spat bits of tooth, his eyes glazed over. Dixon stood
dazed, mouth open, uncomprehending, as the grapples closed around his
arms and legs.
Reinhart's gun skidded to the floor as he was yanked toward the door.
One of the elderly Council members picked the gun up and examined it
curiously. He laid it carefully on the table. "Fully loaded," he
murmured. "Ready to fire."
Reinhart's battered face was dark with hate. "I should have killed all
of you. _All_ of you!" An ugly sneer twisted across his shredded lips.
"If I could get my hands loose--"
"You won't," Margaret Duffe said. "You might as well not even bother
to think about it." She signalled to the troops and they pulled
Reinhart and Dixon roughly out of the room, two dazed figures,
snarling and resentful.
For a moment the room was silent. Then the Council members shuffled
nervously in their seats, beginning to breathe again.
Sherikov came over and put his big paw on Margaret Duffe's shoulder.
"Are you all right, Margaret?"
She smiled faintly. "I'm fine. Thanks...."
Sherikov touched her soft hair briefly. Then he broke away and began
to pack up his briefcase busily. "I have to go. I'll get in touch with
you later."
"Where are you going?" she asked hesitantly. "Can't you stay and--"
"I have to get back to the Urals." Sherikov grinned at her over his
bushy black beard as he headed out of the room. "Some very important
business to attend to."
* * * * *
Thomas Cole was sitting up in bed when Sherikov came to the door. Most
of his awkward, hunched-over body was sealed in a thin envelope of
transparent airproof plastic. Two robot attendants whirred ceaselessly
at his side, their leads contacting his pulse, blood-pressure,
respiration, body temperature.
Cole turned a little as the huge Pole tossed down his briefcase and
seated himself on the window ledge.
"How are you feeling?" Sherikov asked him.
"Better."
"You see we've quite advanced therapy. Your burns should be healed in
a few months."
"How is the war coming?"
"The war is over."
Cole's lips moved. "Icarus--"
"Icarus went as expected. As _you_ expected." Sherikov leaned toward
the bed. "Cole, I promised you something. I mean to keep my
promise--as soon as you're well enough."
"To return me to my own time?"
"That's right. It's a relatively simple matter, now that Reinhart has
been removed from power. You'll be back home again, back in your own
time, your own world. We can supply you with some discs of platinum or
something of the kind to finance your business. You'll need a new
Fixit truck. Tools. And clothes. A few thousand dollars ought to do
it."
Cole was silent.
"I've already contacted histo-research," Sherikov continued. "The time
bubble is ready as soon as you are. We're somewhat beholden to you, as
you probably realize. You've made it possible for us to actualize our
greatest dream. The whole planet is seething with excitement. We're
changing our economy over from war to--"
"They don't resent what happened? The dud must have made an awful lot
of people feel downright bad."
"At first. But they got over it--as soon as they understood what was
ahead. Too bad you won't be here to see it, Cole. A whole world
breaking loose. Bursting out into the universe. They want me to have
an ftl ship ready by the end of the week! Thousands of applications
are already on file, men and women wanting to get in on the initial
flight."
Cole smiled a little, "There won't be any band, there. No parade or
welcoming committee waiting for them."
"Maybe not. Maybe the first ship will wind up on some dead world,
nothing but sand and dried salt. But everybody wants to go. It's
almost like a holiday. People running around and shouting and throwing
things in the streets.
"Afraid I must get back to the labs. Lots of reconstruction work being
started." Sherikov dug into his bulging briefcase. "By the way.... One
little thing. While you're recovering here, you might like to look at
these." He tossed a handful of schematics on the bed.
Cole picked them up slowly. "What's this?"
"Just a little thing I designed." Sherikov arose and lumbered toward
the door. "We're realigning our political structure to eliminate any
recurrence of the Reinhart affair. This will block any more one-man
power grabs." He jabbed a thick finger at the schematics. "It'll turn
power over to all of us, not to just a limited number one person could
dominate--the way Reinhart dominated the Council.
"This gimmick makes it possible for citizens to raise and decide
issues directly. They won't have to wait for the Council to verbalize
a measure. Any citizen can transmit his will with one of these, make
his needs register on a central control that automatically responds.
When a large enough segment of the population wants a certain thing
done, these little gadgets set up an active field that touches all the
others. An issue won't have to go through a formal Council. The
citizens can express their will long before any bunch of gray-haired
old men could get around to it."
* * * * *
Sherikov broke off, frowning.
"Of course," he continued slowly, "there's one little detail...."
"What's that?"
"I haven't been able to get a model to function. A few bugs.... Such
intricate work never was in my line." He paused at the door. "Well, I
hope I'll see you again before you go. Maybe if you feel well enough
later on we could get together for one last talk. Maybe have dinner
together sometime. Eh?"
But Thomas Cole wasn't listening. He was bent over the schematics, an
intense frown on his weathered face. His long fingers moved restlessly
over the schematics, tracing wiring and terminals. His lips moved as
he calculated.
Sherikov waited a moment. Then he stepped out into the hall and softly
closed the door after him.
He whistled merrily as he strode off down the corridor.
You have read 1 text from English literature.
- Parts
- The Variable Man - 1Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.Total number of words is 4567Total number of unique words is 137945.8 of words are in the 2000 most common words65.1 of words are in the 5000 most common words73.1 of words are in the 8000 most common words
- The Variable Man - 2Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.Total number of words is 4758Total number of unique words is 131848.6 of words are in the 2000 most common words67.0 of words are in the 5000 most common words75.2 of words are in the 8000 most common words
- The Variable Man - 3Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.Total number of words is 4738Total number of unique words is 133949.8 of words are in the 2000 most common words67.5 of words are in the 5000 most common words76.4 of words are in the 8000 most common words
- The Variable Man - 4Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.Total number of words is 4592Total number of unique words is 129747.4 of words are in the 2000 most common words64.6 of words are in the 5000 most common words72.8 of words are in the 8000 most common words
- The Variable Man - 5Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.Total number of words is 4639Total number of unique words is 137546.1 of words are in the 2000 most common words63.9 of words are in the 5000 most common words74.1 of words are in the 8000 most common words
- The Variable Man - 6Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.Total number of words is 1711Total number of unique words is 69355.1 of words are in the 2000 most common words69.7 of words are in the 5000 most common words77.6 of words are in the 8000 most common words