Theodore Sturgeon - More Than Human

‘No,’ he said. ‘Like to tell me about it?’

‘I’d like to,’ I said. ‘Oh, yes, I’d like that.’

He had that professional open-minded expression on his face, not believing or disbelieving, just taking it all in. I had to tell him, and I suddenly realized that I didn’t have enough words. I knew the things, but not the names for them.

Lone took the meanings and threw the words away.

Further back: ‘ You read books. Read books for me. ’

The look of his eyes. That—‘opening up’ thing.

I went over to Stern. He looked up at me, I bent close. First he was startled, then he controlled it, then he came even closer to me.

‘My God,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t look at those eyes before. I could have sworn those irises spun like wheels…’

Stern read books. He’d read more books than I ever imagined had been written. I slipped in there, looking for what I wanted.

I can’t say exactly what it was like. It was like walking in a tunnel, and in this tunnel, all over the roof and walls, wooden arms stuck out at you, like the thing at the carnival, the merry-go-round, the thing you snatch the brass rings from. There’s a brass ring on the end of each of these arms, and you can take anyone of them you want to.

Now imagine you make up your mind which rings you want, and the arms hold only those. Now picture yourself with a thousand hands to grab the rings off with. Now just suppose the tunnel is a zillion miles long, and you can go from one end of it to the other, grabbing rings, in just the time it takes you to blink once. Well, it was like that, only easier.

It was easier for me to do than it had been for Lone.

Straightening up, I got away from Stern. He looked sick and frightened.

‘It’s all right,’ I said.

‘What did you do to me?’

‘I needed some words. Come on, come on. Get professional.’

I had to admire him. He put his pipe in his pocket and gouged the tips of his fingers hard against his forehead and cheeks. Then he sat up and he was okay again.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘That’s how Miss Kew felt when Lone did it to her.’

‘What are you?’

‘I’ll tell you. I’m the central ganglion of a complex organism which is composed of Baby, a computer; Bonnie and Beanie, teleports; Janie, telekineticist; and myself, tele-path and central control. There isn’t a single thing about any of us that hasn’t been documented: the teleportation of the Yogi, the telekinetics of some gamblers, the idiot savant mathematicians, and most of all, the so-called poltergeist, the moving about of household goods through the instrumentation of a young girl. Only in this case every one of my parts delivers at peak performance.

‘Lone organized it, or it formed around him; it doesn’t matter which. I replaced Lone, but I was too underdeveloped when he died, and on top of that I got an occlusion from that blast from Miss Kew. To that extent you were right when you said the blast made me subconsciously afraid to discover what was in it. But there was another good reason for my not being able to get in under that „Baby is three” barrier.

‘We ran into the problem of what it was I valued more than the security Miss Kew gave us. Can’t you see now what it was? My gestalt organism was at the point of death from that security. I figured she had to be killed or it— I —would be. Oh, the parts would live on: two little coloured girls with a speech impediment, one introspective girl with an artistic bent, one mongoloid idiot, and me—ninety per cent short-circuited potentials and ten per cent juvenile delinquent.’ I laughed. ‘Sure,’ she had to be killed. It was self-preservation for the gestalt. ’

Stern bobbled around with his mouth and finally got out: ‘I don’t—’

‘You don’t need to,’ I laughed. ‘This is wonderful. You’re good—real good. Now I want to tell you this, because you can appreciate a fine point in your speciality. You talk about occlusions! I couldn’t get past the „Baby is three” thing because in it lay the clues to what I really am. I couldn’t find that out because I was afraid to remember that I was two things—Miss Kew’s little boy, and something a hell of a lot bigger. I couldn’t be both, and I wouldn’t release either one.’

He said, with his eyes on his pipe, ‘Now you can?’

‘I have.’

‘And what now?’

‘What do you mean?’

Stern leaned back against the corner of his desk. ‘Did it occur to you that maybe this— gestalt organism of yours is already dead?’

‘It isn’t.’

‘How do you know?”

‘How does your head know your arm works?’

He touched his face. ‘So… now what?’

I shrugged. ‘Did the Pekin man look at Homo Sap walking erect and say, „Now what?” We’ll live, that’s all, like a man, like a tree, like anything else that lives. We’ll feed and grow and experiment and breed. We’ll defend ourselves.’ I spread my hands. ‘We’ll just do what comes naturally.’

‘But what can you do?’

‘What can an electric motor do? It depends on where we apply ourselves.’

Stern was very pale. ‘Just what do you— want to do?’

I thought about that. He waited until I was quite finished thinking and didn’t say anything. ‘Know what?’ I said at last.’ Ever since I was born, people been kicking me around, right up until Miss Kew took over. And what happened with her? She damn near killed me.’

I thought some more, and said, ‘Everybody’s had fun but me. The kind of fun everybody has is kicking someone around, someone small who can’t fight back. Or they do you favours until they own you, or kill you.’ I looked at him and grinned. ‘I’m just going to have fun, that’s all.’

He turned his back. I think he was going to pace the floor, but right away he turned again. I knew then he would keep an eye on me. He said, ‘You’ve come a long way since you walked in here.’

I nodded. ‘You’re a good head-shrinker.’

‘Thanks,’ he said bitterly. ‘And you figure you’re all cured now, all adjusted and ready to roll.’

‘Well sure. Don’t you?’

He shook his head. ‘All you’ve found out is what you are. You have a lot more to learn.’

I was willing to be patient. ‘Like?’

‘Like finding out what happens to people who have to live with guilt like yours. You’re different, Gerry, but you’re not that different.’

‘I should feel guilty about saving my life?’

He ignored that. ‘One other thing: You said a while back that you’d been mad at everybody all your life—that’s the way you lived. Have you ever wondered why?’

‘Can’t say I have.’

‘One reason is that you were so alone. That’s why being with the other kids, and then with Miss Kew, came to mean so much.’

‘So? I’ve still got the kids.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘You and the kids are a single creature. Unique. Unprecedented.’ He pointed the pipe-stem at me. ‘ Alone. ’

The blood started to pound in my ears.

‘Shut up,’ I said.

‘Just think about it,’ he said softly. ‘You can do practically anything. You can have practically everything. And none of it will keep you from being alone.’

‘Shut up, shut up… Everybody’s alone.’

He nodded. ‘But some people learn how to live with it.’

‘How?’

He said, after a time, ‘Because of something’you don’t know anything about. It wouldn’t mean anything to you if I told you.’

‘Tell me and see.’

He gave me the strangest look ‘It’s sometimes called morality.’

‘I guess you’re right. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I pulled myself together. I didn’t have to listen to this. ‘You’re afraid,’ I said. ‘You’re afraid of Homo Gestalt. ’