Гарри Гаррисон - 50 in 50

He was too close to the end to even consider stopping now. He stepped into the self-service elevator and pressed 4. The door closed and the car began to… descend!

With the realization that he was trapped came the knowledge that there was very little he could do about it. Just wait and see who — or what — might be outside the car when the door opened!

The elevator dropped down to a level that must have been far beneath the basement floor. The door slid slowly back.

The room was not what he had expected. Not that he had any idea of what there would be ;it was just — just that this room was so ordinary!

Ordinary — except for the side wall. That was an impossibility. It was a glass wall looking into a vast tank of swirling water — only there was no glass! It was the surface of the ocean standing on its side. He felt himself drawn into it, falling into it.

The sensation vanished as the wall suddenly turned jet black. He became aware for the first time that he wasn't alone in the room. There was a girl behind a chrome desk. A lovely girl with straight bronze hair and green eyes.

"An untrained person shouldn't watch that machine, Mr. Dalgreen; it has a negative effect on the mind. Won't you please step in?"

His jaw dropped. "How do you know my name? Who are you? What is this pi—"

"If you'll be seated, I'll be with you in a moment."

Brent saw that the elevator would stay here until he got out. He stepped into the room, and the door sliding shut behind him didn't help his morale any. He was into it up to his neck, and the other team had taken complete charge. He sat.

The redhead pulled the sheet of paper out of her typewriter and pushed it into the strange wall. It once more had the undersea look. Brent kept his eyes averted until she turned to him with a slight frown furrowing her forehead.

''You have been very interested in Arthur Di Costa's activities, Mr. Dalgreen. Perhaps there are some questions you would like to ask me?"

"That, lady, is the world's best understatement! Just what happened to him today?. . And what is this place?"

She leaned forward and pointed. "You're responsible for Mr. Di Costa's visit here today. You were observed following him, so we brought him in, in the hope that you would come also. The message he received was a code word designed to trigger an automatic response planted in his mind. He came directly here, controlled by the posthypnotic suggestion."

"But the note!" he exclaimed.

"A simple matter! It was written on a material made entirely of separate molecules. A small charge of energy held them together for a brief period of time. The charge leaked out and the material merely separated into its constituent molecules."

The utter impossibility of the situation was striking home. The evidences of a superior culture were unmistakable. These people were his. .

"Aliens, Mr. Dalgreen — I suppose you could call us that. Yes, I can read your mind quite clearly. That is why you are here today. A thought receiver in Arthur Di Costa's study informed us of your suspicions when you first walked in. We have been following you ever since, arranging your visit here.

"I'll tell you what I can, Mr. Dalgreen. We are not of Earth; in fact, we come from beyond your solar system. This office is, to be very frank, the outpatient ward of a sanitarium."

"Sanitarium!" Brent shouted. "This is the office only. . then where is the sanitarium?"

The girl twirled her pencil slowly, her piercing stare seeming to penetrate his eyes — into his brain.

"The entire Earth is our sanitarium. Mixed in with your population are a great number of our mentally ill."

The floor seemed to tilt under Brent's feet. He clutched the edge of the desk. "Then Di Costa must be one of your outpatients. Is he insane?"

The girl spoke quietly. "Not insane in the strictest sense of the word, he is congenitally feeble-minded; his case is incurable."

Brent thought of the brilliant Di Costa as a moron, and the inference shook his mind. "That means that the average IQ of your race must be—"

"Beyond your powers of comprehension.” she said. "To your people Di Costa is normal, really far above average.

"On his home planet he was not bright enough to take his place in that highly integrated society. He became a ward of the state. His body was altered to be an exact duplicate of Homo sapiens. We gave him a new body and a new personality — but we could not change his basic intelligence. That is why he is here on Earth, a square peg in a square hole.

"Di Costa spent his childhood on his home planet, living in an 'alien' environment. These first impressions drive deep into the subconscious, you know. His new personality has no awareness of them — but they are there, nonetheless. When he is painting, these same impressions bypass his conscious mind and operate directly on his thalamus. It takes a keen eye to detect their effect on the final work. May I congratulate you, Mr. Dalgreen?"

Brent smiled ruefully. "I'm a little sorry now that I did. What are you plans for me? I imagine they don't include a return to my earthly 'asylum'?"

The girl folded her hands in her lap. She looked down at them as if not wanting to look Brent in the eye when she made her next statement. However, he wasn't waiting for it. If he could overpower the girl, he might find the elevator control. Any chance was worth taking. He tensed his muscles and jumped.

A wave of pain swept through his body. Another mind — strong beyond comparison — was controlling his body!

Every muscle jerked with spasmodic activity, halting his plunge in midair. Crashing to the desk he lay unmoving; every muscle ached with the fierce alien control. The redhead looked up — eyes blazing with the strength she had so suddenly revealed.

"Never underestimate your opponent, Brent Dalgreen. I adopted the earthly form of a woman for just this reason. I find your people much easier to handle. They never suspect that I am. . more than what they see. I will release your mind from my control, but please don't force me to resume it."

Brent sank to the floor, his heart pumping wildly, his body vibrating from the unnatural spasm.

"I am the director of this. . sanitarium, so you see I have no desire to have our work exposed to the prying eyes of your government. I shall have to have you disposed of."

Brent controlled his breathing enough to allow him to speak. "You. . intend to… kill me then?"

"Not at all Mr. Dalgreen; our philosophy forbids killing except for the most humane reasons. Your physical body will be changed to conform to the environment of another of our sanitarium planets. We will of course remove all the radiation damage. You can look forward to a long and interesting life. If you agree to cooperate you will be allowed to keep your present personality."

"What kind of a planet is it?" Brent asked hurriedly. He realized from the girl's tones that the interview was almost at an end.

"Quite different from this one. It is a very dense planet with a chlorine atmosphere." She pressed a stud on her desk and turned back to her typewriter.

Brent had a last, ragged thought as unconsciousness overcame him. He was going to live. . and work. . and there must be some fine greens to paint on a chlorine planet. .

The children had spread up and down the beach, and some of them had even ventured into the surf where the tall green waves crashed down upon them. Glaring from a deep blue sky, the sun burned on the yellow sand. A wave broke into foam, surging far up the shore with a soundless rush. The sharp clap-clap of Teacher's hands could easily be heard in the sunlit silence.

"Playtime is over — put your clothes back on, Grosbit-9, all of them — and the class is about to begin.”