The Chicago, as she approached the but boundary, which no other ship had been allowed to pass, and forward, mile by mile. Every man, from Commissioner and Councillor down, was and tense. So variant, so fantastic, were the going around about this Arisia that no one what to expect. They the unexpected—and got it.
"Ah, Tellurians, you are on time." A strong, assured, pseudo-voice itself in the of each mind the ship of war. "Pilots and officers, you will shift to one seventy eight seven twelve fifty three. Hold that course, inert, at one Tellurian of acceleration. Virgil Samms will now be interviewed. He will return to the of the of you in six of your hours."
Practically by the of their with telepathy, not one of the Chicago's anything in the of that precise, diamond-clear thought. Samms and Kinnison, however, precisionists themselves, did. But, although they were and up although they were to any of or of suggestion, neither of them had the suspicion, then or ever, that Virgil Samms did not as a of the Chicago at all.
Samms that he a and it toward the which Arisia was. Commissioner Kinnison knew, as surely as did every other man aboard, that Samms did those things, he and the other officers and most of the Samms do them. They the in size with distance; it the of which their most penetrant ultra-beam spy-rays not pierce.
They waited.
And, since every man knew, any of and to the end of his life, that that to actually did happen, it will be so described.
Virgil Samms, then, his small through Arisia's screen and saw a so much like Earth that it might have been her sister world. There were the white ice-caps, the oceans, the by banks of cloud.
Would there, or would there not, be cities? While he had not at all what to expect, he did not that there would be any large upon Arisia. To for the role of ex machina, the Arisian with Samms was about to would have to be a super-man indeed—a being man's knowledge or in power of mind. Would such a of beings have need of such as cities? They would not. There would be no cities.
Nor were there. The downward—slowed—landed in a upon the of what appeared to be a small village by and woods.
"This way, please." An voice him toward a two-wheeled vehicle which was almost, but not quite, like a Dillingham roadster.
This car, however, took off by itself as soon as Samms closed the door. It along a of all other traffic, past and past cottages, to stop of itself in of the low, which was the center of the village and, apparently, its for being.
"This way, please," and Samms through an automatically-opened door; along a short, hall; into a large room a and one deeply-holstered chair.
"Sit down, please." Samms did so, gratefully. He did not know he have up much longer or not.
He had to a mentality; but this was a thing far, his imaginings. This was a brain—just that—nothing else. Almost globular; at least ten in diameter; in and in perfect with a liquid—a BRAIN!
"Relax," the Arisian ordered, soothingly, and Samms that he relax. "Through the one you know as Bergenholm I of your need and have permitted you to come here this once for instruction."
"But this ... none of this ... it isn't ... it can't be real!" Samms blurted. "I am—I must be—imagining it ... and yet I know that I can't be hypnotized—I've been psychoed against it!"
"What is reality?" the Arisian asked, quietly. "Your have been able to answer that question. Nor, although I am much older and a much more than any of your race, would I attempt to give you its true answer. Nor, since your has been so limited, is it to be that you without any I might give you in or in words. You must, then, yourself—definitely, by means of your own five senses—that I and about you are real, as you reality. You saw the village and this building; you see the that houses the which is I. You your own flesh; as you the with your you the impact and the as sound. As you entered this room you must have the odor of the in which and by of which I live. There only the of taste. Are you by any either or thirsty?"
"Both."
"Drink of the in the yonder. In order to avoid any of I will tell you nothing of its the one that it matches perfectly the of your tissues."
Gingerly enough, Samms the to his lips—then, it in hands, he a draught. It was GOOD! It like all into one; it like all of the most he had eaten; it his thirst as no had done. But he not empty that small container—whatever the was, it had a value higher than old, rare, beef! With a of Samms replaced the and again to his host.
"I am convinced. That was real. No possible so and satisfy the purely physical of a as and as thirsty as mine was. Thanks, immensely, for me to come here, Mr....?"
"You may call me Mentor. I have no name, as you the term. Now, then, think fully—you need not speak—of your problems and of your difficulties; of what you have done and of what you have it in mind to do."
Samms thought, and cogently. A minutes to Triplanetary's history and the of the Solarian Patrol; then, for almost three hours, he into the of the Galactic Patrol of his imaginings. Finally he himself to reality. He jumped up, the floor, and spoke.
"But there's a flaw, one and that makes the whole thing impossible!" he out, rebelliously. "No one man, or group of men, no who they are, can be with that much power. The Council and I have already been called imaginable; and what we have done so is nothing at all in with what the Galactic Patrol and must do. Why, I myself would be the to against the of such power to anybody. Every in history, from Philip of Macedon to the Tyrant of Asia, to be—and was, in his beginnings—motivated by benevolence. How am I to think that the Galactic Council, or I myself, will be to a thing that has every man who has it? Who is to watch the watchmen?"
"The you credit, youth," Mentor replied, unmoved. "That is one why you are here. You, of your own force, can not know that you are in incorruptible. I, however, know. Moreover, there is an agency by of which that which you now to be will commonplace. Extend your arm."
Samms did so, and there around his a platinum-iridium carrying, wrist-watch-wise, a something at which the Tellurian in amazement. It to be of thousands—millions—of gems, each of which pulsatingly all the colors of the spectrum; it was out—broadcasting—a of writhing, polychromatic light!
"The to the of the Triplanetary Service," Mentor said, calmly. "The Lens of Arisia. You may take my word for it, until your own shall have you of the fact, that no one will wear Arisia's Lens who is in any unworthy. Here also is one for your friend, Commissioner Kinnison; it is not necessary for him to come physically to Arisia. It is, you will observe, in an container, and not glow. Touch its surface, but and very fleetingly, for the will be painful."
Samms' finger-tip touched one dull, gray, jewel: his whole arm away as there through his whole being the of an more by than any he had known.
"Why—it's alive!" he gasped.
"No, it is not alive, as you the term ..." Mentor paused, as though a way to to the Tellurian a thing which was to him incomprehensible. "It is, however, with what you might call a of pseudo-life; by of which it off its while, and only while, it is in physical with the entity—the ego, let us say—with it is in exact resonance. Glowing, the Lens is perfectly harmless; it is complete—saturated—satiated—fulfilled. In the dark condition it is, as you have learned, in the extreme. It is then incomplete—unfulfilled—frustrated—you might say or or demanding. In that condition its pseudo-life so with any life to which it is not that that life, in a space of seconds, is out of this plane or cycle of existence."
"Then I—I alone—of all the in existence, can wear this particular Lens?" Samms his and at it, so and upon his wrist. "But when I die, will it be a menace?"
"By no means. A Lens cannot be into being to match some one personality; a time after you pass into the next cycle your Lens will disintegrate."
"Wonderful!" Samms breathed, in awe. "But there's one thing ... these are ... priceless, and there will be millions of them to make ... and you don't...."
"What will we out of it, you mean?" The Arisian to smile.
"Exactly." Samms blushed, but his ground. "Nobody anything for nothing. Altruism is in theory, but it has been to work in practice. I will pay a price—any price or possibility—for the Lens; but I will have to know what that price is to be."
"It will be than you think, or can at present realize; although not in the you fear." Mentor's was itself. "Whoever the Lens of Arisia will a that no mind bear. The of authority; of responsibility; of knowledge that would any mind of strength. Altruism? No. Nor is it a case of good against evil, as you so believe. Your picture of white and of black is not a true picture. Neither good do or can exist."
"But that would make it still worse!" Samms protested. "In that case, I can't see any at all for your yourselves—putting yourselves out—for us."
"There is, however, enough; although I am not sure that I can make it as clear to you as I would wish. There are in three reasons; any one of which would us in exerting—would us to exert—the in the of Lenses to your Galactic Patrol. First, there is nothing either right or about or slavery, or autocracy, of action or complete regimentation. It to us, however, that the measure of and of well-being for the number of entities, and therefore the toward Goal it is toward which this cycle of is in the and Scheme of Things, is to be by for each and every the amount of and physical with the public welfare. We of Arisia are only a small part of this cycle; and, as goes the whole, so goes in or each of the parts. Is it for you, a citizen of this cycle-universe, to that such alone would be for a much effort?"
"I of it in that light...." It was hard for Samms to the concept; he did it thoroughly. "I to see, I think ... at least, I you."
"Second, we have a more in that the life of many, many worlds has from Arisian seed. Thus, in parentis, we would be if we to act. And third, you valuable time and much in playing chess. Why do you do it? What do you out of it?"
"Why, I ... uh ... exercise, I ... I like it!"
"Just so. And I am sure that one of your very early came to the that a mind, from a study of one or to any universe, or that universe, from the of its to its end?"
"Yes. At least, I have the stated, but I have it possible."
"It is not possible no mind has or will exist. A mind can only by the of knowledge, which would time as well as capacity. Our of your chess, however, is what we call the 'Visualization of the Cosmic All'. In my a of yours named Clarrissa MacDougall will, in a store called Brenleer's upon the ... but no, let us a thing nearer at hand and you personally, so that its will be to check. Where you will be and what you will be doing, at some time in the future. Five years, let us say?"
"Go ahead. If you can do that you're good."
"Five Tellurian years then, from the of your through the screen of 'The Hill' on this present journey, you will be ... allow me, please, a moment of ... you will be in a shop not yet built; the address of which is to be fifteen hundred fifteen Twelfth Avenue, Spokane, Washington, North America, Tellus. The barber's name will be Antonio Carbonero and he will be left-handed. He will be in your hair. Or rather, the will have been done and he will be shaving, with a trade-marked 'Jensen-King-Byrd', the in of your left ear. A small, quadrupedal, grayish-striped entity, of the called 'cat'—a cat, this one will be, and called Thomas, although actually of the female sex—will jump into your lap, you in a language with which you are only familiar. You call it and purring, I believe?"
"Yes," the Samms managed to say. "Cats do purr—especially kittens."
"Ah—very good. Never having met a cat personally, I am at your of my visualization. This female called Thomas, careless in the of her trajectory, will the barber's with her tail; thus him to make a incision, three long, to and just above your left cheek-bone. At the moment in question, the will be a pencil to this wound. This is, I trust, so that you will have no in its or its thereof?"
"Detailed! Accuracy!" Samms think. "But listen—not that I want to you up deliberately, but I'll tell you now that a man doesn't like to by a barber, such a little as that. I'll that address—and the cat—and I'll go into the place!"
"Every event affect the of events," Mentor acknowledged, enough. "Except for this interview, you would have been in New Orleans at that time, of in Spokane. I have every factor. You will be a man. Hence, while you will think of this and the near future, you will have it in less than five years. You will it only at the touch of the astringent, you will give voice to self-derogatory and remarks."
"I ought to," Samms grinned; a not-too-pleasant grin. He had been by the quality of mind able to do what Mentor had just done; he was now more than by the Arisian's that what he had in such detail would in every detail come to pass. "If, after all this Spokane—let a tiger-striped jump into my lap—let a left-handed Tony Carbonero me—uh-uh, Mentor, UH-UH! If I do, I'll to be called I can think of!"
"These that I have mentioned, the occurrences, are problems only for thinkers." Mentor paid no attention to Samms' to enter that shop. "The in the detail, such as the length, mass, and exact place and position of landing, upon or floor, of each of your as it is severed. Many are involved. Other clients by—opening and doors—air currents—sunshine—wind—pressure, temperature, humidity. The exact fashion in which the will his shears, which in turn upon many other factors—what he will have been doing previously, what he will have and drunk, or not his home life will have been happy ... you little realize, youth, what a opportunity this will be for me to check the of my visualization. I shall many upon the problem. I cannot perfect accuracy, of course. Ninety nine point nine percent, let us say ... or ten ... is all that I can expect...."
"But, Mentor!" Samms protested. "I can't help you on a thing like that! How can I know or report the exact mass, length, and of single hairs?"
"You cannot; but, since you will be your Lens, I myself can and will my with the actuality. For know, youth, that any Lens is, there can any Arisian be if he so desires. And now, that fact, and from your own knowledge of the to be from and other such activities, and from the you have had into my own mind, do you any that we Arisians will be for the in number of Lenses may be required?"
"I have no more doubts. But this Lens ... I'm more of it every minute. I see that it is a perfect identification; I can that it can be a perfect telepath. But is it something else, as well? If it has other powers ... what are they?"
"I cannot tell you; or, rather, I will not. It is best for your own that I do not, in the most terms. It has additional qualities, it is true; but, since no two have the same abilities, no two Lenses will be of qualities. Strictly speaking, a Lens has no power of its own; it concentrates, intensifies, and available powers are already by its wearer. You must your own powers and your own abilities; we of Arisia, in the Lens, will have done that we should do."
"Of course, sir; and much more than we have any right to expect. You have me a Lens for Roderick Kinnison; how about the others? Who is to select them?"
"You are, for a time." Silencing the man's protests, Mentor on: "You will that your will be good. You will send to us only one who will not be a Lens, and it is necessary that that one should be sent here. You will a of selection and which will more and more as time goes on. This will be necessary; not for the selection itself, which the Lensmen themselves do among in their cradles, but of the thus upon the many who will not graduate, as well as upon the who will. In the meantime you will select the candidates; and you will be and when you how you will be able to send.
"You will go in history as First Lensman Samms; the Crusader, the man wide and it possible for the Galactic Patrol to what it is to be. You will have help, of course. The Kinnisons, with their force, their will to do, their urge; Costigan, of Irish Erin's best of and brawn; your George and Ray Olmstead; your Virgilia...."
"Virgilia! Where she fit into this picture? What do you know about her—and how?"
"A mind would be who not visualize, from the most with you, a which has been in for some twenty three of your years. Her in psychology; her under Martian and Venerian masters—even under one Adept of North Polar Jupiter—of the involuntary, uncontrollable, almost unknown and hence of the face, the hands, and other parts of the body. You will that game for a long time."
"I will." Samms grinned, a shamefacedly. "She gave us clear of what she was going to do, and then us out to the last millo."
"Naturally. She has, all unconsciously, been herself for the work she is to do. But to resume; you will incompetent, unworthy—that, too, is a part of a Lensman's Load. When you the mind of Roderick Kinnison you will that he, not you, should be the in the Galactic Patrol. But know now that no mind, not the most in the universe, can either or itself. Commissioner Kinnison, upon your mind as he will it, will know the truth and will be well content. But time presses; in one minute you leave."
"Thanks a ... thanks." Samms got to his and paused, hesitantly. "I that it will be all right ... that is, I can call on you again, if...?"
"No," the Arisian declared, coldly. "My not that it will again be either necessary or for you to visit or to with me or with any other Arisian."
Communication as though a solid had been the two. Samms out and into the waiting vehicle, which him to his lifeboat. He off; in the room of the Chicago at the end of the hour after it.
"Well, Rod, I'm ..." he began, and stopped; unable to speak. For at the mention of the name Samms' Lens had put him en with his friend's whole mind; and what he him—literally and precisely—dumb.
He had always liked and Rod Kinnison. He had always that he was able and capable. He had that he was big; clean; a square shooter; the world's best. Hard; a driver who had little more on his in than he had on himself. But now, as he saw spread out for his Kinnison's in its entirety; as he in that mind with those of the other officers—good men, too, all of them—assembled in the room; he that he had to what a Roderick Kinnison was.
"What's the matter, Virge?" Kinnison exclaimed, and up, hands outstretched. "You look like you're ghosts! What did they do to you?"
"Nothing—much. But 'ghosts' doesn't what I'm right now. Come into my office, will you, Rod?"
Ignoring the of the junior officers, the Commissioner and the Councillor into the latter's quarters, and in those the two Lensmen in close all of the return to Earth. In fact, they were still deeply, Lens, when the Chicago and they took a ground-car into The Hill.
"But who are you going to send first, Virge?" Kinnison demanded. "You must have on at least some of them, by this time."
"I know of only five, or possibly six, who are ready," Samms replied, glumly. "I would have that I of a hundred, but they don't measure up. Jack, Mason Northrop, and Conway Costigan, for the load. Lyman Cleveland, Fred Rodebush, and Bergenholm—I haven't been able to him out, but I'll know when I him under my Lens—next. That's all."
"Not quite. How about your identical-twin cousins, Ray and George Olmstead, who have been doing such a job of counter-spying?"
"Perhaps ... Quite possibly."
"And if I'm good enough, Clayton and Schweikert are, to name only two of the commodores. And Knobos and DalNalten. And above all, how about Jill?"
"Jill? Why, I don't ... she up, of course, but ... but at that, there was nothing said against it, either ... I wonder...."
"Why not have the boys in—Jill, too—and it out?"
The people were called in; the was told; the problem stated. The boys' was and unanimous. Jack Kinnison took the lead.
"Of Jill's going, if does!" he out vehemently. "Count her out, with all the she's got? Hardly!"
"Why, Jack! This, from you?" Jill surprised. "I have it on excellent authority that I'm a stinker; a half-witted one, at that. A jelly-brain, with come-hither eyes."
"You are, and a of other besides." Jack Kinnison did not up a millimeter, their fathers. "But at your your are than most other people's whole ones; and I said or that your brain couldn't function, it wanted to, of those sad eyes. Whatever it takes to be a Lensman, sir," he to Samms, "she's got just as much of as the of us. Maybe more."
"I take it, then, that there is no to her going?" Samms asked.
There was no objection.
"What ship shall we take, and when?"
"The Chicago. Now." Kinnison directed. "She's and ready. We didn't any trouble going or coming, so she didn't need much servicing. Flit!"
They flitted, and the great the second as as she had the first. The Chicago's officers and that the people left the separately; that they returned separately, each in his or her lifeboat. They met, however, not in the room, but in Jack Kinnison's private quarters; the three Lensmen and the girl. The three were embarrassed; at ease. The Lenses were—definitely—not working. No one of them would put his Lens on Jill, since she did not have one.... The girl the silence.
"Wasn't she the most perfectly thing you saw?" she breathed. "In of being over seven tall? She looked to be about twenty—except her eyes—but she must have been a hundred, to know so much—but what are you boys so about?"
"She!" Three voices as one.
"Yes. She. Why? I know we weren't together, but I got the impression, some way or other, that there was only the one. What did you see?"
All three men started to talk at once, a of noise; then all stopped at once.
"You first, Spud. Whom did you talk to, and what did he, she, or it say?" Although Conway Costigan was a years older than the other three, they all called him by as a of course.
"National Police Headquarters—Chief of the Detective Bureau," Costigan reported, crisply. "Between three and five; six and an inch; one seventy five. Hard, fine, keen, a Big Time Operator if there was one. Looked a like your father, Jill; the same dark hair, just to gray, and the same orange-yellow in his eyes. He gave me the works; then took this Lens out of his safe, it onto my wrist, and gave me two orders—get out and out."
Jack and Mase at Costigan, at Jill, and at each other. Then they in unison.
"I see this is not going to be a report, possibly in one minor detail," Jill remarked. "Mase, you're next."
"I on the of the University of Arisia," Northrop stated, flatly. "Immense place—hundreds of thousands of students. They look me to the Physics Department—to the private laboratory of the Department Head himself. He had a with about a and on it; he and every of my brain. Then he a pattern, on a just about as as his panel. From there on, of course, it was simple—just like a making a set of or a a test-section. He a of of at me, and then said 'Scram!' That's all."
"Sure that was all?" Costigan asked. "Didn't he add 'and scrammed'?"
"He didn't say it, exactly, but the was clear enough."
"The one point of similarity," Jill commented. "Now you, Jack. You have been looking as though we were all for that up the back."
"Uh-uh. As though maybe I am. I didn't see anything at all. Didn't land on the planet. Just around in an that screen. The thing I talked with was a pattern of pure force. This Lens appeared on my wrist, and all, out of thin air. He told me plenty, though, in a very time—his last word being for me not to come or call back."
"Hm ... m ... m." This of Jack's was a particularly bit, for Jill Samms.
"In plain words," Costigan volunteered, "we all saw what we to see."
"Uh-uh," Jill denied. "I did not to see a woman ... no; what each of us saw, I think, was what would do us the most good—give each of us the possible lift. I am or not there was anything at all there."
"That might be it, at that." Jack in concentration. "But there must have been something there—these Lenses are real. But what makes me is that they wouldn't give you a Lens. You're just as good a man as any one of us—if I didn't know it wouldn't do a of good I'd go there right now and...."
"Don't off so, Jack!" Jill's eyes, however, were starry. "I know you it, and I almost love you, at times—but I don't need a Lens. As a of fact, I'll be much off without one."
"Jet back, Jill!" Jack Kinnison into the girl's eyes—but still did not use his Lens. "Somebody must have done a job of selling, to make you that ... or are you sold, actually?"
"Actually. Honestly. That Arisian was a thousand times more of a woman than I will be, and she didn't wear a Lens—never had one. Women's minds and Lenses don't fit. There's a sex-based incompatibility. Lenses are as as whiskers—and at that, only a very men can wear them, either. Very special men, like you three and Dad and Pops Kinnison. Men with force, drive, and scope. Pure killers, all of you; each in his own way, of course. No more to be stopped than a glacier, and twice as hard and ten times as cold. A woman can't have that of a mind! There is going to be a woman Lensman some day—just one—but not for years and years; and I wouldn't be in her shoes for anything. In this job of mine, of...."
"Well, go on. What is this job you're so sure you are going to do?"
"Why, I don't know!" Jill exclaimed, wide. "I I all about it, but I don't! Do you, about yours?"
They did not, not one of them; and they were all as at that as the girl had been.
"Well, to to this Lady Lensman who is going to appear some day, I that she is going to be some of a freak. She'll have to be, practically, of the sex-based nature of the Lens. Mentor didn't say so, in so many words, but she it perfectly clear that...."
"Mentor!" the three men exclaimed.
Each of them had with Mentor!
"I am to see," Jill said, thoughtfully. "Mentor. Not a name at all. To the Unabridged verbatim—I had occasion to look the word up the other day and I am now at the that there was a connection—quote; Mentor, a wise and counselor; unquote. Have any of you boys anything to say? I haven't; and I am to be blue."
Silence fell; and the more they thought, those three Lensmen and the girl who was one of the two to an Arisian mind, the that became.
