Algis Budrys - Rogue Moon

“I’ll be going into a hospital tomorrow,” he went on. “It’s pretty much time for it. I mean, I could stay out a little while longer, but this way it’s over with. And, you know, I could stand to go on morphine… or whatever it is. It’s getting pretty itchy,” he said off-handedly. “And anyhow, the government sent a man around the other day. Didn’t outright tell me to do anything, but I think they’d be happier if I was someplace where it doesn’t matter what I say in my sleep.” He made a sophisticated grin. “You know. Big Brother.”

Hawks sat watching him.

“Anyhow—” Latourette waved a hand, unconscious of the cigarette he had been holding poised halfway to his lips ever since he had finally gotten it out of his pocket. “I’ll be out of circulation.” He looked down, said, “Oh,” and put the end of the cigarette in his mouth. Rapidly taking a pack of matches from his coat pocket and striking a light, he puffed vigorously, waved the match out and leaned forward to flip it into Hawks’ wastebasket, his face turned to concentrate on his attempt to hit the target. “So I was wondering if you might not think it a good idea to run off a dupe of me from my file tape. That way you could have me — I mean, you could have the dupe — around the lab, in case some help would be handy now and then. I mean, you’re so close to the climax of things, it might be handy to have me…” His voice trailed away. He watched Hawks out of the corner of his eye, blushing.

Hawks got up quickly and began readjusting the settings on the air-conditioning unit buried in the window behind his desk. The mechanical linkages to the control knobs were stiff, and thumped into their new positions with a corresponding metallic rattle from the dampers.

“Sam, you know your latest file tape is six months old. If we made a dupe of you from it, the dupe wouldn’t even know the procedure we’re using on the Moon shots now. He’d think it was April.”

“I — I know that, Ed,” Latourette said softly. “I didn’t say you should give him my old job back. But I knew I was going to be duped from tape sometime. I mean, I — the dupe — wouldn’t be surprised at what had happened. I’d thought about what it would be like. The dupe would be a trained man, and he’d understand the situation. He’d readjust quickly.”

“Would he readjust to working under Gersten?” Hawks turned around, his back pressed against the air conditioner. “It’s not a matter of his understanding or not understanding what had happened. It’s more than that. Look at it from his point of view. As far as he’d be concerned, one minute he’d been going into the transmitter for a scan as secondin-charge of the whole shooting match, and the next moment he’d be coming out of the receiver not just with six months gone by in an instant, not just with Gersten in charge over him, but with half a dozen other men in positions more crucial than his. All right — so he’d be you, he’d realize what had happened, he’d know he was a dupe. But would he feel it? How would you have felt, in April, if you’d gone in for that scan, knowing it was just routine stuff, that all that was going to happen was that a tape would be filed away and you’d go back to the rest of the day’s work. And then, when you came out, it wasn’t that way at all — the whole world had changed, and a hundred things had been done in ways you knew nothing about, and suddenly you were just another engineer, and even your old acquaintances didn’t know how to talk to you, and Gersten was embarrassed toward you, and a total stranger named Barker seemed to have some sort of special hostility reserved for you? Think about it, Sam. Because that’s exactly how the dupe would feel. And the biggest thing he’d feel would be the unfairness of it all. Sam — what do you want to do to yourself?”

Latourette said slowly, looking down at the floor, “To say nothing of not being able to understand what’s happened to Ed Hawks — except that somehow I’d made things harder for him, instead of easier.” He looked up. “My God, Ed, what’s happened to me? What am I doing to both of us? All I ever want to do was help you, and somehow it’s come out like this. I never should have come here today, Ed. I shouldn’t have done this last thing to you.”

“Why not?” Hawks wanted to know. “Don’t you have a moral right to work on something you put so much of yourself into? Doesn’t a dying man have any rights? Even the right to live through six months of cancer all over again?” He looked at Latourette. “You’ve thought about this. You’ve spent a lot of time on it. If I could expect an answer from anyone, it would be you: why can’t you get what’s due you?”

Latourette looked at him in distress. “Ed, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why not? All you did was panic, Sam. You felt things closing in on you, and you had to make a move. A man has to do something — he can’t just wait to sink out of sight.”

“No, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why not? Why can’t a man stand up and make a protest against the things that are sweeping over him? Why should a man be at the mercy of things that pay him no attention?”

Latourette got to his feet. “I’ve made it worse,” he said desperately. “I’ve piled another thing on you. I didn’t mean to. The only thing I can do is walk out of here right now. Please, Ed — try to get this out of your mind.” He walked quickly to the door, and stared at Hawks for one moment of incomprehension. “All I wanted at first was what was best for you. And then when I came here today, I still thought I wanted what was best for you. But I wanted something for myself, besides, and that ruined it. Somehow, it’s all ruined. How do people get into these things?” he asked blindly. “Where is it arranged?”

Hawks said bitterly, “Why can’t a man get what he deserves?”

“Ed, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done to you.”

“Perhaps it’s what I deserve. Sam, I wish—”

“Goodbye, Ed,” Latourette said, terrified, and walked out. Hawks sat down, his eyes closed, his hands making aimless, quick, twitching gestures over the surface of the chart.

Hawks walked across the laboratory floor toward the transmitter. Gersten stepped up to him unexpectedly and said, “I tried to get hold of you a little while ago. Your secretary said Sam Latourette was in your office, and was it anything that couldn’t wait.”

Hawks looked at him. Gersten’s face was pale. His lips were trembling.

Hawks said uncertainly, “I’m sony about that. Sometimes Vivian forgets the relative importance of things.” He peered at Gersten. “Was she impolite to you?” he asked with a puzzled frown.

“She was perfectly proper. And it wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait, under the circumstances.” Gersten started to turn away.

“Wait,” Hawks said. “What’s wrong?”

Gersten turned back. He began to speak, then changed his mind. He waited a moment, and asked quietly, “Am I still on the job?”

Hawks said, “Why shouldn’t you be?” Then his frown disappeared. “What made you think I wanted Sam back?” he asked slowly. He searched Gersten’s face. “I’ve always thought of you as a very confident man. You do a good job for me.” He put his palm behind his neck and stood kneading the rigid muscles with his fingertips. “As a matter of fact, I’d had the feeling that giving you more responsibility was something I probably should have done earlier. I’m — I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get to know you better, sooner.” He brought his hand down awkwardly, and shrugged. “That’s bound to happen, now and again. It’s always a shame when it happens to a good man. But I don’t know what else to say to you.”