Alfred Van Vogt - Null–A Three

It was a big “but”. Nevertheless, from off there in the interstellar distances, his analysis evoked a grudging agreement.

“I suppose,” came the reply, “we should find out a few things, and do what has to be done.” The alter ego continued: “But if you’ll think about it, going to what used to be the city of the games machine, will present problems. For example, neither you nor the emperor have any money. I presume you can stay temporarily with Dan Lyttle. But you can’t expect an hotel clerk’s salary to support three people for long.”

Gosseyn Three smiled as a thought of his own came in an instant mental reply to the other’s objection. “Did you catch that answer?” he asked.

“Well—” impression of a responding smile—“I suppose the Gosseyns could assert an ownership, or stewardship, claim to the Institute of General Semantics, on the grounds that “X” was a secret Gosseyn. But I don’t recall it being a place where food was immediately available.”

Gosseyn Three replied, “The old guy had his quarters there; so there may be a food supply. And, of course, there’ll be a caretaker on the premises. Question: who has been paying his salary?”

“What would you do? Take the place over by force?”

“Well—” Pause. Gosseyn Three grew conscious that his was now a grimmer smile—“it’s hard for me to accept that that objection came from a Gosseyn who did not hesitate to force, or dupe, servants to feed him on Yalerta, and who always ate well wherever he went in the universe; and in no case, as I recall it, was local money available.”

Gosseyn Two’s answering thought had a touch of resignation in it. “I can see you’re making up your mind to stay.” He seemed to utter a sigh. Then: “Okay, give Dan Lyttle my best.”

“Well—” wryly—“that will be a little difficult. He thinks I’m you.”

“Of course,” was the reply. “I have to admit that’s a hard reality to keep in mind: that there’re two Gosseyns now. I doubt if ‘X’ ever intended that there would be two of the same age group conscious at the same time.” The mention of “X” brought a thought. Gosseyn Three said, “All these hours I’ve been vaguely aware of such a person having existed as a sort of an ancestor. But it’s not been something that’s been to the fore of your mind. So vague is the correct description of the way it came through. Tell me more.”

“Wel-l-l-ll!” The mental answer had in it uncertainty. “There’s reason to believe that he was in one of the original migrant ships from that other galaxy. Except—impression only—that little vessel crash-landed, damaging the male body that we later knew as ‘X’. Also damaged was the computer that had the scientific data in it. Anyway, the other man went off with the two women because, as they got out, the damaged vessel was flown by its damaged computer to some other area of earth. ‘X’ recovered to the extent that he was periodically able to re-enter the little ship and go back into suspended animation for hundreds, even thousands, of years at a time.”

The alter ego’s account continued: “Naturally, he presently began to notice the descendants of his male companion and the two women. There had been a reversion to barbarism, which apparently even included matings with male and female apes.”

The mental voice added, “As you have been able to observe on today’s earth, it all worked out reasonably well. But it was ‘X’ who had the ancient memory and who, by using male sperm from his own body, eventually created the Gosseyn bodies. It’s our task to make sure that the cloning system he developed is carried forward into the future. This should be one of our goals, regardless of what other actions we undertake in terms of personal association.”

Gosseyn Two concluded, “I would guess that ‘X’s apartment should be carefully searched for hidden rooms, or secret storage places, where he may have kept a set of records, and equipment for doing what he did.” Gosseyn Three replied, “I’ll certainly take a look. And I’ll continue to consult you in any crisis.”

“Theoretically,” came the answer from that faraway duplicate body-mind, “we’re the same person. Your judgment would probably be exactly the same as mine.” It was true. And yet—somewhere inside himself he felt very much a separate individual.

Two grown men, the same person but, somehow, different.

Once again came his own thought: “It will be interesting to see how the similarity works out.”

“It sure will.” The response from Gosseyn Two was in his mind almost as if it were his own thought. But not quite.

And it was he, here, who was washing his face and combing his hair; not Gosseyn Two. Actions and movements which he had not ceased doing during the entire high-speed, mental conversation.

Essentially—it seemed to him, standing there, he had only one reason for worry: Earth was dangerous for a Gosseyn. At least, the part of earth to which he had come, was dangerous.

There were people here who would recognize the Gosseyn face. And it would require only one discharge of any kind of weapon to kill this particular Gosseyn body. If that should happen, the fact that the whole memory of the experience would continue on in the mind of Gosseyn Two, was not really satisfactory.

The Gosseyn ancestors had unquestionably bequeathed a remarkable personality maintaining technology to the descendant duplicates. But to a particular individual of the long line, the reality was that the me-ness of identity continued to reside in one living body.

As he used each item, and did each little grooming act, he found himself remembering that similar conveniences had been available for the other Gosseyn on that other occasion.

It was not the kind of fantasy that could hold him long. Because, once again he was having fleeting thoughts about Enin… out there. With that, he hastily put away the electric razor. And then—

And then, it was just a matter of slipping again into the slip-on shoes. But he had the thought that he’d better get some better clothes, somehow. And some much stronger shoes.

Moments after that he was out of the bathroom, and heading. As he pulled at the door that led out of the bedroom into the rest of the house, he heard Enin saying, “Yes, Mr. Lyttle, but what’s an assumption?” Gosseyn slowed his action of opening the door, and stayed where he was. As he listened, then, to the voice of Dan Lyttle explain the General Semantics definition of an assumption, he felt awed… Of course, he thought—this attempt should be made. How it would work on a brain not yet fully grown, and with no reward that could be offered—to someone who had everything—was not clear.

But he drew back, out of sight, Pushed the door until it was open only an inch or so. And listened.

“You mean—why do I act the way I do?” The boyish voice showed continued puzzlement.

“Yes.” It was Dan Lyttle’s voice. “A little while ago you came out here and ordered me to get your breakfast ready. And I did, didn’t I?”

“So?”

“Well—” the man’s tone was ever so slightly insistent—“you’re a guest in my house, and you treat me like I’m a servant. That’s what I mean: what’s the underlying assumption?”

There was a momentary pause. Then: “I’m the emperor. Everybody does as I say.”

“You mean, where you come from?—”

“Dzan. The universe of Dzan.” It was Enin’s voice. “So,” went on Dan Lyttle, “one of your assumptions is that here on earth you should be treated the way you are treated at home?”

“I’m emperor wherever I go.” It was insolently spoken. Gosseyn Three smiled. Grimly.

“And—” continued the man’s voice out there in the living room—“I gather you have a number of underlying assumptions by which you believe that you are better than other people?”