Гарри Гаррисон - 50 in 50

It was inescapable and horrible so finally he had put it to the test.

It happened in physiology class, where they were working out problems in relation to orientation and consciousness in acceleration, using Paley's theorem. He had raised his hand timidly, but Eagle-Eye Cherniki had spotted it and growled him to his feet. Once he was committed the words came out in a rush.

"Professor Cherniki, if we accept Paley's theorem, in a problem like this with only minimal escape-G, we go well below the consciousness threshold. And the orientation factor as well, it seems to me. . that, well…"

"Mr. Bork, just what are you trying to say?" Cherniki's voice had the cold incision of a razor's edge.

Jon took the plunge. "There can be only one conclusion. Any pilot who takes off in a ship will be knocked out or unable to orientate enough to work the controls."

The classroom rocked with laughter and Jon felt his face warm and redden. Even Cherniki allowed himself a cold grin when he answered.

"Very good. But if what you say is true, then it is impossible to fly in space — and we do it every day. I think you will find that in the coming semester we will go into the question of changing thresholds under stress. That should—"

"No, sir," Jon broke in. "The texts do not answer this question— if anything they avoid it. I've read every text for this course as well as other related texts—"

"Mr. Bork, are you calling me a liar?" Cherniki's voice was as frigid as his eyes. A dead hush fell over the classroom. "You are dismissed from this class. Go to your quarters and remain there until you are sent for."

Trying not to stumble, Jon went across the room and out the door. Every eye was fixed on him and he felt like a prisoner on the last mile. Instead of getting an answer to his question it looked as if he had got himself in deep trouble. Sitting in his room he tried not to think of the consequences.

He had never been certain he could get into pilot training — even though it had been his only ambition. Just about one out of one hundred made it that far, the rest ending up in the thousand other jobs of the space fleet. Very few washed completely out of the Academy; the entrance requirements were so high that deadheads never got that far. Of course, there were exceptions — and it was beginning to look like he was one of them.

When the intercom finally called him to the president's office he was almost ready for it. He still jumped when it barked for him then he got up quickly and left taking the elevator to the executive level. The cold-faced secretary nodded him in, and he was alone with the Admiral.

Admiral Sikelm had retired from active service when he took over the presidency of the Academy. He had never lost the manner or voice of command and everyone on campus referred to him only as "the Admiral." Jon had never been this close to him before and was struck speechless. The Admiral, however, did no barking or growling, just talked quietly to put him at ease.

"I have seen Professor Cherniki and he told me what happened in class. I have also listened to the taped recording of your conversation with him."

This doubly surprised Jon, it was the first he had heard that the classes contained concealed recorders. The Admiral went on, with the very last words Jon had expected to hear.

"Congratulations, Mr. Bork, you have been accepted for pilot training. Your classes begin next week — if you wish to continue training?" Jon started to talk, but the Admiral stopped him with an upraised palm. "I want you to listen first before you give me your answer. As you have already discovered, space flight is not all that it appears to be.

"When we first hit space we were losing nine out of ten ships. And not through mechanical failure either. Telemetering equipment on the pilots showed us where the trouble lay — space is just not made for the human body. Gravity changes, blood pressure, free fall, radiation narcosis, all of these combined with a dozen other causes we discovered later to put the pilot out of action. If he didn't black out completely or lose control, the disorientation of the new stimuli made it impossible for him to operate the ship.

"So we had a stalemate. Plenty of good ships with no one to fly them. We tried drugs, hypnosis and a number of other things to fit men for space. They all failed for the same reason. By the time we adjusted men for space they were so doped and controlled that they were again unable to do the job.

"It was Dr. Moshe Kahn who solved the problem — you've heard of him?"

"Just vaguely — wasn't he first director of the Psych Corps?"

"Yes — that's all he is known for in the public record. Maybe, someday, he can get the credit due him. Dr. Kahn was the man who enabled us to conquer space.

"His theory, that was proven to be absolutely true, was that man as we know him, Homo sapiens, is unfit for space. Dr. Kahn set out to create Homo nova, men who could live and work in space. Under the correct mental conditions the human body is capable of unusual feats — such as walking through fire or possessing the rigid strength of a hypnotized patient. Dr. Kahn reasoned that the body's potentialities are great enough, all he had to do was create the mind of Homo nova. This he did by inducing a condition of dual personality in adults—"

"I don't understand, sir.” Jon broke in. "Wouldn't it have been easier to work with children, babies — condition them from the very beginning?"

"Of course.” the Admiral said, "but happily we have laws to prevent just that sort of thing. Dr. Kahn never considered that approach; he used men, volunteers — most of them with some experience in space. Cases of multiple personality have been documented as far back as the nineteenth century, but no one had ever tried to create a separate personality. Kahn did it and he created the kind of personality he wanted. What is too upsetting or uncomfortable for a normal person is the natural environment of these new personalities. They are able to pilot ships between the planets. Using frozen sleep, passengers could also be carried to the planets without experiencing the terrible rigors of space.

"The entire program has been kept a secret — for good and obvious reasons. I can hear the howls now if people knew they were traveling with an unconscious pilot — an insane pilot I imagine they would call it since this is a kind of induced insanity. The only people who know about the program are the instructors, the pilots and a few high officials.

"Since the pilots are all volunteers — and the program works — there are no ethical rules being broken. As you have seen, even the students in this school have no idea of the real nature of a space pilot. If they accept the cover-up in their textbooks, they go on to other jobs in the Corps. If they have the capacity to think and understand — like you— they will understand the need for a program like this. They will have the knowledge to know what they are getting into if they volunteer.

"I think that covers the whole picture — unless you have any questions?"

Jon thought for a moment. "Just one, and it may sound a little foolish. Just what are the physical symptoms connected with this training? I mean, I would like to know, will I really be a little bit—"

"Insane? Only by definition. The new personality, Jon II, can only exist in the specialized environment of the ship's control cabin. Your original personality, Jon I, assumes command all the time on the outside. The only sensation you will have will be periods of amnesia. The personalities are distinct and separate. Each blacks out completely when the other is dominant."

Jon's mind was made up — had been made up for quite a while.

"I still look forward to being a pilot, Admiral. I don't see that all of this alters that fact any."