Life had hard for Eileen Dukas and her son. While most people them all right—from some they kindness—there was, very often, a in that looked at them.
Les Payten, Eddie's friend said once, "I promise, Ed. No more talk about your uncle from me. Finished, see? You've had enough."
Eddie the anger which from to Mitchell Prell, for he Les Payten's good intentions.
At regular there were police visits at the house, and questioning. "It's for your protection, Mrs. Dukas," was one from the detectives. But Eddie that there was more to it than that. Subtly, the of law had since the blowup. It backward, as people to blame. Catastrophe had been too big for or fairness. And the himself was not around to be mobbed.
A freckle-faced from the Youth Center—her name, Barbara Day, had been out of a hat, for of she had no parents—offered advice: "You ought to go away, Eddie, where don't know you. It would be better."
Ed that this was good advice. Many people were saying and and that too much knowledge was a possession. And Ed's uncle still such a thing. More than once Ed had to fast, with some big him. Black he with great frequency, and delivered some, too. Still, he inside. It was as if Uncle Mitch were part of him.
The world to look normal and green again. But the of memory were still there. And Ed Dukas to answer with hate, though he didn't like to.
There was a of with to throw, in of the house one night. "This is the place," Eddie one of them say. "Both my are gone. And the that live here were in on the reason."
Ed had the boy around before: Ash Parker. Now the for a while, and Ed and his mother locked doors. There might have been a lynching, that Les Payten a neighbor with a tear-gas and some other neighbors with and courage.
It was the final straw, however. "Will we have to leave, Eddie?" his mother asked.
"It's best," he growled. "But I'll be back!"
Next day the house was being up. Packing the travel were prepared.
It was goodbye to Les Payten and Barbara Day, and the newly planet, Earth, with its of and its great shops that still to give the whole to and maybe a of the larger as well. The pattern of the set, and still didn't think that there was any to make a change. In fact, they that any was possible. Nobody would give up the of immortality, once it was gained. Nor would they other that and if they were not used to and tasks. So, the ones were in the of the times.
Ed Dukas was soon on a liner. Because she might need him, he close to his mother. Around them were other colonists—young from schools, and people who were physically young, too, though they were fresh from the vats. They were the aged, by another lifetime them.
The off. A week later it on an of size. The Dukases were to one of a group of that were not all alike. Under the great roof, which in the air, the new gardens and fruit trees were already growing. And in of clear plastic with water, green from which almost any of food be made.
To Eddie it was a satisfying into space that he had so much anticipated. Amid great of and plastic and house parts and to maintain a normal temperature so from the sun, life on. Eddie's mother in the office of a shop for machines. He too—when and where he could—when he was not at school.
There was a little more of peace, for a while anyway. There was the to possible of the which might in his mind. There were and an to swim in with his companions. However, Ed Dukas was of making friendships.
He was then a sullen, of thirteen, about he did—for he that the years ahead were earnest. Carefully he up with the reports in scientific journals: about the of the of the star ship on a minute with only a number and no name. Harwell was in charge. The would be pure energy—the best of them all; energy so that it would be and at the speed of light, which was not remarkable, since it would be light, more unit area than the of a star!
This was by no means the only major that had been and was reported. Technological progress was in all fields, across the board, making a solid front. Others of its also had a special to Ed Dukas. Biological science, in its interpretations, he to be the most of these. Now it was no longer just rejuvenation—restoring organs. It was a thing that start from a single cell, in warm, fluids, to something that had already been. And it had a development—bringing the same results but more and easily, and with different, more flesh. It was and fascinating. Knowing was like the of a or an angel.
Ed Dukas and his mother four years on their asteroid. Then one day a in her hand. And she not to know to look happy or terrified. She did not her son the letter.
"We've had of being here," she stated. "We're going home."
So they across the millions of miles. They up the house, on which had been in chalk. On two days Eddie was jumped by gangs. He free and escaped. But on the third he was cornered. This time Ash Parker was the ringleader. Ed like a bobcat, but eight were too many. He was on his back, and they were kicking him. His own blood was in his mouth. What might when he out was anybody's guess. Once, medical knowledge had to where it was, it would have been for sure.
Somebody intervened—a big guy in a who had come along the with an attention.
He didn't say anything at first. He just the toughs, two at a time in succession, and them away.
Eddie up and his benefactor, on him thanks. "Mister ... I ..."
"Hello, Eddie!" the man said, chuckling. "I see you out hardy. Seventeen you'd be now."
Young Ed Dukas the voice and looked at the face. He stiffened. Then he a in a that very and unemotional, which it was not: "Sir, you're my father."
The man nodded. "Just off the line, pal. The same guy—because you and your mother, and some other people, what I was like. There was no record of me or of my mind. So, okay, they one, fella. From the memories of me left in other minds. Thanks, Eddie."
"Thanks?" Ed Dukas said in a voice.
Bloody and dirty, he forward. Father and son to each other. It was a moment of great triumph.
Ed's mind pictured filaments, as at as pink but already a shape, in a of jelly—growing there, according to a record. Now the record be synthesized. It like from death at last.
Ash Parker had not fled. Now he spoke, awed, "Jeez, Mr. Dukas. I didn't it. Maybe my can come back, too."
"Your will come back," Jack Dukas affirmed. "I am the 'memory man' to be resurrected. Among those killed who had had their and minds recorded as was recommended, about a hundred thousand are alive again, as I think you know. Millions more are in process. One way or another, by record or by the memories of others, in of the old or the new, almost will return."
Ed his father's hand. As as he tell, it was of flesh. Yet it be something else; Ed nearly with as his wonder and of the him. He again of Mitchell Prell's of vitaplasm.
"Of which are you, Dad?" Ed asked anxiously.
His father him there in the of the day, while the ring of in the sky.
"The old kind, Eddie," he answered.
"I'm glad," Ed said, relieved, a which he was odd for one who loved the of miracles.
Jack Dukas as if he had a terrible fate. "So am I glad, pal," he said. "I I was by family connections." Here he paused, but his meant Uncle Mitch. "However," he continued, "the old takes so much longer. That's why in many cases it won't be used. There must be thousands of already among us, like else. Since personal are involved, are confidential. These people have organs the same as we have. And you can't them just by looking. Only they're thirty heavier, stronger, and they don't tire. There was a thought, once, that would make beings and replace them. Sorry, Eddie. Why be at a time like this? Let's you up and then your mother."
Young Ed Dukas was than he had been before. For a while he peace. Maybe that was true of most of now—for the past three or four years at least. There was no of an the of to come back.
Les Payten was still around. And Barbara Day to live at the Youth Center on the hill. Often the three would meet. Their was them. Barbara Day's had faded. Her dark had a glint. A promise of had to blossom. And her talk many thoughts.
"We all know each other, Eddie," she once said. "So don't be offended. I sometimes think that you wonder your father is the same person that he was—whether he be more than a duplicate."
Les Payten frowned. "You're speaking to me, too, Babs," he pointed out. "I also have a 'memory father.' He's good to me, and mostly I like him. But sometimes I scared, though I don't always know why."
Ed's skin tingled. "Could I be myself now and still be myself in another body, years later? Could there be two of me—truly—constructed the same? I don't such a thing. I don't know."
But Ed Dukas to wonder about his father. There were occasions when his was to people, in the street. For they him.
Ed was present on one of these occasions. "Sorry, friend," Jack Dukas to a burly, man. "I they to put a picture of you my head."
Les Payten's father was also different from his original—though in a different way. The was very in his face. He had once been a big, easy-going, soul, by his wife. Now his a hint of brutality. He walked with a swagger. He did not roar, but the of power was there.
Ed's mother the to his father: "Memory not always to match facts, Jack. Mrs. Payten herself into that Ronald Payten used to be a bully. So she Schaeffer's mind-machines. And lo! Ronald Payten is a now, as as she is concerned. No, don't worry about her too much, Jack. She may like being pushed around."
In the months that passed, from out on an came the step-by-step reports of the of the star ship. At home, one by one, old acquaintances—or was it just their facsimiles?—reappeared. Gradually most of the of the were to life—except for scientists who unforgiven.
But a new type of population was into the of society. Its humanness, in an old sense, be debated. Its was marked by an that into a shrug; it to be and dully, as most past had been before. Foresight into tomorrow, but its pictures not real. The of cool, clear thinking, which education to in an that needed it so much, again. No it should have been that the shift from to panic can often be swift.
Even Ed Dukas, though in his to New and Coming Things, sometimes of these of his interests. Without much help from art, Barbara Day out to be beautiful. She had a pair of automatically. Ed have had his lengthened. Les Payten have had his big ears trimmed. But men often on the of with one's appearance. Sometimes there is a in minor ugliness.
They all had their dates, their dancing, their rides—traditional pleasures, from past. And they had the age-old problems of adulthood. But now, for them and for their civilization, there was a new problem—vitaplasm, which be like flesh, though faster, with a shape, and memories. It was said that 30 of those who died in the of the Moon were in this firmer, medium. But its use did not stop here. For one thing, there were persons, alive and healthy, who the of their willfully.
One some might forget: there were other from years before, but and still loved—parents, grandparents. Besides, there were characters—Washington, Lincoln, Edison, Cleopatra.
Possibly Joe Doakes from extinction, puzzled, wondering, frightened, but himself at least the same, much the same food, much the same things. Then something super in his would on him, him more or making him exultant. But it all good at glance, so a world its times of suspicion, against the of specialists, and the new to almost any who the needed equipment.
The was big; the universe, promised, endless. There was of room. And the of just those who had with the Moon was and slow. So in and out-of-the-way places their skill. They not have the at all if they were stupid, and their results, generally, were good.
The Julius Caesars and Michelangelos came into being as novelties, side-show pieces. All were likenesses, physically. From minds such and as each was to be more or less accurately. But none of the pseudo-great to very much. They a popularity; then, the and of a world, they into among the populace. Like most of those of the new flesh, they this as if by prudence. The many people in normal were less reticent.
That there were around him, known, and as such, was a idea to Ed Dukas. It was part of the to wonders—or so it to him most of the time. Eager to how they and felt, he them out cautiously, not to offend. Usually his were met with and evasion—which gave them away.
But then Ed met a very special memory man. He wasn't the copy of somebody famous. He was just a legend. Yet now he was the right of against the right of to produce the type of action and fire that affect the era.
Ed and his two friends, Les Payten and Barbara Day, him in a little park pigeons. Or, rather, he them. For in with an village that no one should be a to anyone else, he at them and said, "Hello, there! Nice fellers. Nice girl! Sit and a while? I keep gettin' lonesome. Mixed up. Got to out. Or try, anyway. Put yourselves down? That's fine!"
Abashed and after that, Ed and Barbara and Les sat and mostly just listened.
"Been around these times three months. Scared at first. Thought I was addled. Know somethin'? I can all the way to 1870. It's a fake, sure. No, they didn't make me look young, or give me all my teeth. Afraid of 'verisimilitude,' my great-great-great-something-grandson-supposed-to-be said. I'm a family brag. Look what I keep around with me. One of the of Huck Finn. They this of a it. Illinois farmer. And look at this here in the of the book. 'Property of Abel Freeman.' So I'm to be him, and all—funny, I can't used to anything else. So I just like that. This and the are the only solid about what the original Abel Freeman was like. Up to there, I'm him. The is mostly stuff, and the idea the family has that their was a of hellion—the some like to tell about. Some way for a man to be born, huh? Shucks, I can the night I was to have died. Drunk, and in the by my own mule, he didn't like my smell. Hell, I in life that would of whisky!"
Abel Freeman stopped talking. He set in a that looked like leather toward his audience with amusement, as if he the he'd on them and was about their reactions.
Barbara took the lead. "We're surely to know you, Mr. Freeman," she said, his big and his manner of speech. "I'm sure you tell us more. What's the world to?"
His grip, for an instant, was almost like that of a vise. But when Barbara with pain, his hand relaxed, and his look and apologetic, though it a of being played or power being demonstrated.
"Oh, me, lady!" he drawled. "This Abel Freeman—he was to be a very and man. Me—naturally I'm a stronger. Sometimes I just forget. But I try to be right courtly. There, I'll your fingers. Hope I didn't no bones."
Barbara laughed a nervously. "No, Mr. Freeman—I'm fine," she him, her dark head. "Now, if you'll tell us—"
"Oh, yes—about what the world and is to," Abel Freeman on, his more than his eyes. "Well, rough. I've been studying up—thinking. When I got to these times, I didn't like them. Everything addled. Guess I was homesick. I of being the way, too. But way in the years I remember, they used to say that maybe there'd be or to the Moon. So I up and got acclimated, and said to myself, 'Abel, my boy, take what's to you and don't whine, though you weren't asked if you wanted to come here. And with all that can be done now, why not your old woman and her tobacco? And your four sons? Nat was the worst. And Nancy, your daughter, who was an terror? Of this family that you so good don't match so much, being just romanticized, mostly made-up memories put into your head. But they're to you. Guess when they you, they should have left those out. Because you love that family of yours, or not, and would be happy to see its members again.' And I said to myself besides, 'Abel, bein' the way has got of advantages. You're as a dozen regular men, and you won't need rejuvenation, you'll any older. You'll if you're something terrible. Trouble is, your kind'll be some for the present of the land. Of people want to along peaceably—even your sort, Abel. But of will wind up your no more than they'd trust a under a line of wash. Yep, I'm there's be some days coming!'"
Abel Freeman ended his almost dreamily. He'd his on the of the bench back. In his iron-gray hair, the sun out glints. His gaze, which might have been designed for squirrel-shooting, a path that along the park lake.
Ed Dukas him a mixture of old and comedy, the most of wonders, the dark of which the of great centuries to come, or after destruction. The was not in Abel Freeman himself but in the of his being.
Ed's mouth was dry. "You're honest, Mr. Freeman," he said.
Abel Freeman answered this with a and a shrug. "Funny," he drawled. "Thought I saw a I was of expecting. A enemy, name of Tom Granger. Look, you three of mine on your and easy, and walk the other way on that path. It would be safer. Not too far. Just a piece."
This might have been an robber's command, but Ed that it was nothing like that. Without a word, he Les and Barbara away.
There was a blinding, blue-white flash. The bench on which they had been was gone—vaporized by heat. Incandescent rose from a big in the turf. When and solidified, they would little of gold from soil. These were the of the familiar Midas Touch pistol. It used to ones, while it a little of the total into energy.
Freeman must have away at just the right to avoid destruction. With agility, he was his murderer. As Freeman to the youth's shoulders, they in a on the walk and to a stop. Freeman's hand flicked, and the into the bushes.
By then Ed and Barbara and Les were over the forms. Freeman was unruffled.
"Friends," he said, laughing, "meet up with a one with a and of in his own way. Yep, Tom Granger."
Granger was heavily. His of black over his thin face. He looked older than Ed or Les, but these days that meant little. In repose, his large, dark might have been and idealistic; now they fury. His was affected. Certainly, in this era, there were no for poverty.
Now he to again, in Freeman's grasp. Futilely, of course. "Yes, I have guts!" he declared. "I wanted to kill you, Freeman—with means that are left that can still that with like you! I wanted the to into the newscast—yes, to give me public attention. And not for any vanity, but for the best purpose there was. I wanted a to be to, while I tell what must have to by now. Damn you, Freeman! Let me up!"
Abel Freeman and obliged.
Granger rose but gamely. "You to be of this Abel Freeman," he said to Ed and his companions. "He has feelings, he thinks; he's a good person. In some he's just an of the nineteenth century. But he's a device. And unless something is done, we'll be as as the dinosaur! Our science us no longer. It other masters, nearer to its meaning. Others than I have it. In every two houses this of the world there is already an of one of these of vitaplasm. Is Earth to be for us, and for the of being human; or are we to become—basically, and no how humanized—mere mechanisms, our for a advantages?"
The from the Midas Touch pistol was a crowd. An police wailed.
Suddenly Granger his on Ed in and recognition. "Dukas," he said. "Let me see—Edward Dukas. At a time when the world was more watchful, your house was under surveillance. As a possible means of one Mitchell Prell—who had his hand in what once to us, and in what is now. How it feel, Dukas, to be so close to such a celebrity? Ah, maybe you're shy!"
Flattening out Granger again would have been no useful answer to Ed's memories of wrongs. He at him.
"Come see me some when you don't so much like making a monkey of someone, someone has just a monkey out of you," he said.
Then he his away. "There's no good in in public confusion," he told them. "Anyhow not till we talk out and them straight."
Ten minutes later they were in a restaurant.
"Abel Freeman," Les Payten said. "He was a at that."
"Rather, more of a pointing out of we already knew," Barbara remarked.
"The old robot-peril come true," Less said pensively. "Humanity to be replaced, not by of metal, and melodramatic, but by beings much more refined—though they are much the same thing. My own father is one of them."
"There's truth in what Granger said," Ed pointed out. "There's that of being out of the way by something and tougher. I can it too. Granger can make use of it, preaching. He's clever. But he's the of fool."
"Yeah, on the cap of the entire Earth," Les said, softly.
The three friends, around a table under soft lights and in surroundings, looked at one another. The food them was good, the music was and soothing. But at level, in the air where their passed, to all the of the to which they belonged: its luxury and beauty, its technology that death and for other systems, but by the same or related worlds, if mankind, at the top, of itself.
"I would go along and reasonably," Barbara offered. "There's of room for people and androids. I took all of that more or less on faith. But I'm I'm wrong. After all, how can beings live beings that with the and yet are stronger, quicker?"
Ed of that he'd about. A minor here or there. He public by like Schaeffer that some was on the way but that in the end should be for everyone. Those had the calculators, the great thought-machines, trends, making predictions. But then there was another thought—had many of those scientists already their own to a medium?
Ed saw that Les Payten had a of on his forehead, though he that Les was no coward. His just after the long ago had proved that.
"Maybe the of all," Les was saying, "is the of being along, and helplessly, by that are too big and complicated. You wish you a in the time-stream and stop for a while to your bearings. Sometimes you that you are in a one-way where you have to keep moving. Is there light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe it's just a of personal adjustment—a taking of comes."
"I as though we're at the of some terrible danger, Ed," Barbara said. "What can we do about it?"
He saw how and she looked, and it him. He touched her hand briefly. "I don't know exactly," he said. "But I'm for toward the that me up with big of the planets, of the stars. And I'm in of being reasonable. I've too much and and in people. The way are, it doesn't have to be a of people any more—just a gone a little crazy. The Moon up by accident. A world was gone. But what by accident can by design or with the of fury. So, we go we can talk against and panic, and for reason. To our friends, and in the streets. Everywhere that we can, and to everyone. Small as that is, it might help."
Solemnly the three friends hands and to work out the of a plan.
