Alfred van Vogt - The Players of Null-A

Without Gosseyn's knowledge of how it was done, the almost mindless human thing could scarcely have crawled, let alone walk.

Driving him was the ever more desperate realization that he only had minutes—minutes during which the Follower must be defeated.

Down the steps he faltered, and straight toward the wavery shape of blackness.

The strain of watching one's god walk towards one with hostile intent must be a mind-destroying experience. In a very frenzy of terror, the Follower protected himself by the only method at his disposal.

Energy poured from the shadow shape. In a flare of white flame, the god-body dissolved into nothingness. In that instant Secoh became a man who had destroyed his god. No human nervous system trained as his had been could accept so terrible a guilt.

So he forgot it.

He forgot that he had done it. And since that involved forgetting all the related incidents of his life, he forgot those also. His training from early childhood had been for the priesthood. All that had to go, so that the memory of his crime could be utterly banished.

Amnesia is easy for the human nervous system. Under hypnosis it can be induced with almost alarming simplicity. But hypnosis is not necessary. Meet an unpleasant individual, and soon you will not be able to recall his name. Have an unpleasant experience, and it will fade away, fade as a dream fades.

Amnesia is the best method of escaping from reality. But it has several forms, and one at least is devastating. You cannot forget the memory of a lifetime of experience, and remain adult.

There was so much that Secoh had to forget. Down he went, and down and down. To Gosseyn, who had returned to his own body instantly when the 'god' was killed, and who stood watching now from the doorway that led to the back office, what followed was anticipated.

The Follower's shadow shape disappeared, and Secoh was revealed teetering on legs that supported him a few moments only.

He fell limply. Physically, he had only a few feet to go, but mentally his journey continued down. He lay on his side on the floor, and his knees drew up tightly against his chest, his feet pressed against his thighs, and his head flopped loosely. At first he sobbed a little, but quickly he grew silent. When they carried him out on a stretcher, he lay unaware of his surroundings, curled-up and silent and tearless.

A baby that has not yet been born does not cry.