Isaac Asimov - Fantastic Voyage II - Destination Brain

Dezhnev stepped away and now Kaliinin was again at Morrison's side. She tugged at his sleeve and said, "Albert."

"Yes, Sophia?"

"You were with him after dinner last night, weren't you?"

"He showed me a map of Shapirov's brain. Marvelous!"

"Did he say anything about me?"

Morrison hesitated. "Why should he have?"

"Because you are a curious man, trying to escape your own private devils. You would have asked."

Morrison winced at her characterization of him. He said, "He defended himself."

"How?"

"He mentioned an earlier pregnancy - and - and abortion. It was not something I would believe, Sophia, unless you admitted it."

Kaliinin's eyes became bright with gathering tears. "Did he--did he describe the circumstances?"

"No, Sophia. Nor did I ask."

"He might have told you. I was forced when I was seventeen. It had undesirable consequences and my parents took legal measures."

"I understand. Perhaps Yuri chooses not to believe this."

"He may choose to think that I asked for it, but it is all on the record and the rapist is still in prison. Soviet law is hard on offenders of this type, but only if the situation can be thoroughly proven. I recognize the fact that women can falsely accuse men of rape, but this was not one of those situations and Yuri knows it. How cowardly of him to state the fact without the extenuation."

Morrison said, "Nevertheless, now is not the time to be concerned about this, although I understand how deeply it must affect you. We will have a complicated job to do inside the ship and it will need all our concentration and skill. I assure you, though, that I am on your side and not on his."

Kaliinin nodded and said, "I thank you for your kindness and sympathy, but don't be afraid of me. I will do my job."

At this point, Boranova called out, "We are now to enter the ship in the order in which I call your names: Dezhnev - Konev - Kaliinin - Morrison - and myself."

Boranova moved immediately into position behind him and murmured, "How do you feel, Albert?"

"Terrible," said Morrison. "Did you expect any other answer?"

"No," said Boranova. "But, nevertheless, I expect you to do your work as though you didn't feel lousy. Do you understand?"

"I will try," said Morrison through stiff lips and, following Kaliinin, he entered the ship a second time.

One by one, they had to adjust themselves into their seats in the arrangement that Kaliinin had described the day before. Dezhnev was front left at the controls, Konev front right, Kaliinin mid-left, Morrison mid-right, and Boranova rear left.

Morrison blinked his eyes and blew his nose into a tissue he found in one of his pockets. What if he needed more tissues than had been supplied him? (A silly thing to worry about, but it was a more comfortable worry than some he might have.) His forehead felt damp. Was that because of the closeness? Would five people breathing - hyperventilating, perhaps - into a skimpy volume raise the humidity to maximum? Or would there be sufficient ventilation?

He thought suddenly of the first astronauts of a century before - even more constricted, more helpless - but going into a space that was somewhat known and understood, not into a microcosm that was utterly virgin territory.

Yet, as Morrison sat down, he felt the edge of terror dulled. He had, after all, been in the ship before. He had even been miniaturized and deminiaturized and was none the worse for it. It didn't hurt.

He looked around to see how the others were taking it. Kaliinin, to his left, looked coldly blank. A rather icy loveliness. It might have been impressive that she was showing no fear, no anxiety, but (as she had said of him) she was probably sitting there fighting her private devils.

Dezhnev was looking back, perhaps trying to weigh reactions as Morrison was, and very likely for different reasons. Morrison was trying to bolster what little inner courage he could find by borrowing from that of others, whereas Dezhnev (Morrison thought) was weighing responses in order to measure the possible success of the mission.

Konev faced directly forward and Morrison could see only the back of his neck. Boranova was just seating herself and was straightening her flimsy cotton costume.

Dezhnev said, "Friends. Fellow-travelers. Before we can leave, we must each inspect our equipment. Once we start, telling me something doesn't work is not going to strike me as an uproarious joke. As my father used to say, 'The truly wise trapeze artist does not inspect his nails in mid-jump.' It will be my job to make sure that the ship's controls are in order, as I am particularly certain they are, since I designed them myself and supervised the construction.

"As for you, Yuri, my friend, your cereb-whatever-you-call-it - Or your brain map, as anyone with sense would call it - has been transferred point for point into the software of your computer behind the plate before you. Please make sure that you know how to operate the plate and then see if the brain map is functional in all respects.

"Sophia, my little dove, I don't know what it is you do except that you make electricity, therefore make sure you can make it in the style you will find suitable. Natalya," his voice lifted slightly, "are you all right back there?"

Boranova said, "I am perfectly all right. Please check Albert. He needs your help most."

"Of course," said Dezhnev. "I have left him for last, so that he can get my full attention. Albert, do you know how to operate the panel before you?"

"Of course not," Morrison snapped. "How should I know?"

"In two seconds, you will know. This contact is to open and that contact is to close. Albert, open! - Ah, you see, it slides open noiselessly. Now close! Perfect. Now you know. - And have you seen what is inside the recess?"

"A computer," said Morrison.

"Perfect again, but do me a favor and see if it is a computer equivalent to yours. Your programmed software is in the recess to the side. Please check it out, make sure it fits the computer, and make sure it works as it is supposed to work. I will rely on you to tell me if it is working properly. Please! If you have any doubts, any suspicion, the tiniest hint that something is not just so, we will delay until it is fixed to your entire satisfaction."

Boranova said, "Please, Arkady, no dramatics. There is no time."

Dezhnev ignored her. "But if you tell me that something is wrong that really isn't wrong, my good Albert, Yuri will find out, I assure you, and neither he, nor I, nor anyone will be pleased. So if it occurs to you that inventing a trouble may delay the trip or even cancel it, let it unoccur to you at once."

Morrison could feel his face flushing and he hoped that it would be interpreted as the result of a generous anger over the thought that he might be dishonest in this fashion and not as guilt over a foiled plot.

Actually, as he hovered over his computer, he thought again of what his design and repeated redesign of his program had done. Now and then, these most recent designs of his had brought him - feelings. It was not something he could identify, but it felt as though his own thought centers were being directly stimulated by the brain waves he was analyzing. He had not reported these, but he had occasionally talked about it and the word had gotten out. Shapirov had called his program a relay station because of that - if Yuri was to be believed. Well, then, how could he now check if that were working well, when at best he had had the sensation only a few times and at unpredictable occasions?

Or might it all be simply the will-to-believe, the same will that had led Percival Lowell to see canals on Mars?

He realized that it hadn't actually even occurred to him to try to stymie the voyage by saying his program wasn't working. Dearly as he longed to avoid the risk, he could not do so at the cost of vilifying his program.