Robert Sheckley - Operating Instructions

"I can't," Walker said, covering his face with his big hands. "I can't do it any more."

"What?" Danton shouted.

"I can't! I've lost the power! I felt it all whoosh out of me! I can't do it any more!" He screamed the last at them, and half sat, half slid to the deck. Placing his face against his knees he wept uncontrollably.

"Come on," Powell said to Danton. Together they lifted Walker and carried him to his bunk. Danton gave him a sedative, and they watched until the psi fell into a restless sleep. Then they returned to the Main Room.

"Well," Arriglio said. They didn't answer him. The three men sat down and stared out a port.

After a while, Danton said, "If he really can't do it any more—"

"Suppose he's a one-shot?" Arriglio said in a whisper.

With an effort Powell turned from the port. "I don't think so," he said. "You don't lose psi power that easily, I've heard." He had heard no such thing; but morale was still a factor.

"The point is," Danton said, "he doesn't have to lose it. If he just believes he's lost it—"

"We'll talk him out of that," Powell said. "Just think of him as a machine. A tricky one—but we've got the manual."

"I hope some of the spare parts aren't on Earth," Danton said.

They were silent for a few moments.

"We'd better get the engines going," Powell said. "We have to turn the ship, or we'll be out of the system in no time."

"That's going to take a bit of fuel," Arriglio said.

" Can't help it. Work out the curve, will you Danton? As tight as we can take."

"Right," Danton said.

"And then we'll eat."

Once the ship was turning, they ate. Then they held a conference.

"It's all up to us," Powell said. "His arrogance before we took off was sheer bluff. Now his nerve is shot. We have to restore his confidence."

"Easy," Arriglio said. "Telephone a psychiatrist."

"Very funny," Danton said.

"Not so funny," Powell told them. "A psychiatrist might come in very handy now. In the absence of one, we have the operating instructions."

Danton and Arriglio took out their copies and looked them over.

"For the duration," Powell said, "we'll have to think of Walker as a machine. It brought us out here. It can take us back. Now, any suggestions on getting it back in running order?"

"I've got an idea," Danton said hesitantly. They discussed it for several minutes, and decided it was worth a try. Arriglio went back for Walker.

When he came in, Powell and Danton were shuffling a deck of cards. " Care for some poker?" Powell asked carelessly. "Nothing else to do until we round the curve."

"Do you want me to play? " Walker asked in a whisper.

"Sure. Sit down." The tall psi took a chair self-consciously, and picked up his cards. The game began.

Since the psi is unstable, his ego must be periodically boosted . It was the craziest game Powell had ever seen. They had decided to let Walker win, in hopes of restoring his confidence. But Walker was a hard man to lose to. Timidly he glanced at his cards and threw in hand after hand. He folded when anyone raised. His hands ran amazingly low, even with Arriglio's skillful dealing. Walker never even opened a hand.

But the men were persistent. Silently they worked, throwing away good cards in hopes of getting poor ones. They tried to beat Walker to the punch by folding before he could. Bit by bit, Walker forged ahead.

Powell watched the psi play. The man's sad, homely face was tense with strain. He took each card as though his life depended on it.

Powell had never seen a man who played so seriously, and so poorly.

Finally, a big pot came up. Walker, who hadn't drawn any cards, seemed to pick up confidence. He bet. Powell had drawn one card, splitting up a pair. He raised. Danton and Arriglio raised. Walker hesitated, then raised back.

After several rounds, Walker called.

Powell had a ten high. Arriglio had an eight, and Danton a queen. Walker had stayed with an ace.

" Good bluffing," Powell said. Walker stood up, his face contorted.

"I can't lose," he said in a strange voice.

"Don't worry about it," Danton said.

"I put you guys in this fix—and then I win your dough," Walker said. He hurried away.

Only then did Powell realize that Walker had wanted to lose. Expiation, he thought, but didn't bother to explain it to Danton and Arriglio. He hurried after Walker.

Walker was sitting on his bunk, staring at his hands. Powell sat down beside him and offered him a cigarette. He felt safe in doing so, since their food and water would run out long before their oxygen.

"No thank you," Walker said dully.

"What's wrong?" Powell asked.

"Oh, me," Walker said. "I've gone and done it again."

"Done what?"

"Loused everything up. I've always done something like that. You can count on it."

Understanding and sympathy must be used at all times when dealing with the psi .

"No reason to feel that way," Powell said in a soothing, fatherly voice. "You did something no one else could. That push you gave the ship—"

"Wonderful, wasn't it?" Walker said bitterly. "I pushed us right where we didn't want to go."

"It was still the most wonderful thing I've ever seen."

"And now what?" Walker said, knotting his fingers together in agony. "I can't get us back. I've killed us!"

"You can't blame yourself—" Powell began, but Walker interrupted him.

"I can! It's my fault!" He started to cry, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"All you have to do is push us back," Powell said.

"I've told you," Walker gasped, his eyes wild. "I've lost it. I can't do it any more." His voice started to get louder.

"Now listen to me," Powell said sternly. "You don't lose it. That's defeatist talk." He went smoothly into his best inspirational speech, one reserved for extra-bad moments. It was good, he had to admit. He talked about the stars and Earth, and science, and man's mission on the planets. He talked of the undeveloped psi powers, and their importance in the scheme of things.

Walker stopped crying. He listened, his eyes knotted on Powell's face.

Powell told him about the future of psi, making it up as he went along. How the psi powers would some day link the stars. But until that day, it was up to men like Walker to lead the way.

And a great deal more.

"Come on, boy," Powell cried, after he saw that his audience was thoroughly hooked. "You haven't lost it. Try again!"

"I will!" Walker wiped his nose on his sleeve again and shut his eyes. Cords in his neck stood out. Powell held on to the side of the bunk and watched his precious dynamo begin to operate.

Across the room a door flew open, then slammed shut. Walker's face grew red.

Fascinated, Powell watched the psi's face. The long nose glistened with sweat, the wide lips were peeled back. Walker was in an agony of concentration.

Then he relaxed, and sagged back against the bunk.

"I can't do it," he said. "I just can't."

Powell wanted to tell him to try again. But he remembered Rule 4: The psi must be allowed to run at his own pace. Excess pressure will break him .

"Take a rest," Powell said, resisting a strong temptation to throttle the man. He stood up, taking care to keep his face expressionless.

"I've killed you all," Walker said.

Powell left the room.

The ship rounded the great curve and started the long fall sunwards. Arriglio cut the engines, mourning the expenditure of fuel. They were really short now. Just how short, Danton set out to discover.

In free fall now, with all apparent motion stopped, the ship seemed to hang in space. The sun grew in size— too slowly. Much too slowly.

Walker remained in his bunk, refusing any more conversation. Powell knew that the man was judging himself—and condemning, over and over again. He wanted to do something about it, but couldn't figure out what.