Alfred Van Vogt: Null–A Three

… Well, I’ll be—This is it! This is the exact situation of life in relation to basic reality—

A human being was a head and body surrounded by—nobody knew for sure. Nobody had ever found out—for sure.

There were five principal perception systems that recorded the surroundings; and at least three of those

senses had already provided him with tiny bits of information. But even that was based on information, and memory, in his brain. He knew things on the basis of previous indoctrination.

Essentially, the self is forever in darkness; and messages come in primarily by way of sight, sound and touch, which, like the antennae of TV or radio, are programmed to record specific wave bands.

It was an old General Semantics concept. But it was sensationally parallel to his present situation.

What was baffling about the condition was that he had no recollection of having gone to bed the previous evening in such a physical environment. But, since he had no sense of threat, the lack of memory did not disturb him. Because—what a fantastic parallel it was.

… I, thought Gosseyn, as a self am in actual pitch darkness. Almost immediately, perception began. But it hasn’t told me anything yet that shows any direct connection with the universe—with whatever the reality is… out there.

It was a typically human, fleeting awareness. Because, even as he had those thoughts, another reasoning process inside him noticed again that his situation did not fit the normal reality of the awakening of a living, intelligent person.

It was more than simple, unconcerned curiosity. It was a need to know because of a feeling that something was wrong.

Mindful of the numerous suction devices that he had sensed as being attached to his body, Gosseyn slowly raised his arms. First, then, he maneuvered the thin sheet downward, away from the upper part of his body. It seemed to be what he had sensed it to be: a loose sheet. It moved easily; and so, after mere moments, his hands and arms were free for their next action.

Carefully, he felt the bed itself. And, at once, found himself touching rubbery tubes. Dozens of them. They were what were attached to the suction devices on his body.

Actually feeling them was startling. He froze into motionlessness. Because… this is ridiculous!

Because—still no memory of how something like this could be happening to him.

Consciously, he braced himself. Placed his arms and hands firmly on the cushiony surface underneath him. And with their help, sat up.

Or rather, tried to sit up. What happened: his head struck something cushiony inches above him.

He lay back, startled. But, presently, he was exploring the surface above him with his fingers. The “ceiling” of his long, narrow couch was made of a smooth, cloth-like material. And it was less than a foot above him. The walls on either side, and at the foot and head, were also cushiony, and also about twelve inches from him.

The situation was no longer merely ridiculous. Or puzzling. It was totally unrelated to anything that he had ever known.

Lying there, he realized that in some fashion he had, until this exact moment, taken it for granted that this was Gilbert Gosseyn awakening after a night’s sleep.

Lying there, he consciously made the cortical-thalamic pause of General Semantics.

The theory was that the reasoning—cortical—part of the brain could handle even a dangerous situation better than the automatic, feeling—thalamic—that simply reacted.

Okay, he thought wearily. Now what?

An additional realization came suddenly:… Of course! When I awakened, I knew who I was.

And that knowledge—that he was Gilbert Gosseyn—he had taken so for granted that it had faded from the forefront of his mind. But it was not a small realization.

To awaken and know who you are: it undoubtedly happened each morning to all human beings. Except, in this case it had happened to someone who was not just an ordinary human being. The individual who had awakened here was a human being with an extra-brain.

That was the acceptance of himself that he had awakened with. A casual memory of what he had done: the vast distances of the galaxy that he had traversed with his extra-brain’s special abilities. The colossal events he had participated in, including the destruction of the Follower, and, even more important, saving non-Aristotelian Venus from the interstellar forces of Enro the Red.

… Knowing people like Eldred and Patricia Crang, Leej the Predictor woman and—

Pause! Dismissal of those memories. Or rather, realization that there was no obvious connection between all those mighty happenings and this pitch darkness.

How did I get there?

It was not an anxious thought, but it was a valid question… Obviously, no need for anxiety or fear of any kind. After all, at any instant he could visualize one of his numerous memorized areas: the surface of a planet, or the floor of a room, or a location on a spaceship. And be gone from this small bed, and this small, confined place.

The problem was, if he left he might never know what he was doing here, and where here was.

So there was the purpose again, in another form: examine his absolutely ridiculous environment.

With that thought, Gosseyn once more raised his hands and arms. This time, when he found himself pushing upward against that cushiony ceiling—so close—he braced himself. And pushed hard.

A quick discovery, then. The cushiony part was about an inch and a half thick. And it was soft, and had give in it. But beyond that he could feel something as hard as metal.

Lying there, he strained against it, briefly, with all his strength. But it had no give in it. After pressing at the walls and the foot and head cushions with equal futility, Gosseyn was convinced. Still not alarmed, he lay back.

Yet the thought had already come: what else was there to do in a place like this? It seemed a shame to leave without knowing. Yet the information available seemed so limited that, in fact, there appeared to be only one more exploration for him to make.

… All those rubber tubes my body is attached to: what am I getting from them?

More important, what would happen if the extrabrain transported him suddenly with the speed of twenty-decimal similarity?

It seemed a real concern: what would happen to whatever those tubes were transmitting into his body? Or—slightly belated thought—removing from his body: what about that?

Gosseyn allowed several tens of seconds to go by while he considered the implications. In the end, it seemed irrelevant. Because, out there, he didn’t need any attachments. Every remembered area for the twenty-decimal method by which he traveled vast distances, when necessary, was in a location that was relatively safe for him to be as a living, oxygen-breathing life form.

Lying there, it struck him that the analysis, by itself, as almost the equivalent of a decision to leave. Almost—not quite!

… Because, something happened to me that got me here into this prison. That something had to be almost magically powerful to capture Gilbert Gosseyn, the man with the extra-brain—

Yes, capture him! And—worse!—the prisoner not even aware of when or how it had been done… I should wait. And discover who, or what, this magical power it. Because, if he could do it once, a second time whoever, whatever, it is might decide to take no chances.

For a while, as Gosseyn relaxed and allowed his body simply to lie, unresisting, it seemed real that he should wait. But he did have another thought.

Obviously, there had to be a mechanism which opened what he was in. He was in an enclosure that, in some ways, resembled a coffin. But not really. They didn’t make coffins as metallically hard, and resistant, as what he had touched through the cushions. True, a man who was buried in the ground would not be able to force open the cover of his coffin; the earth itself would be totally resistant. But it would not be a steely metal resistance. Coffin covers had give in them, to some extent. A cover would give a little inside the box that coffins were placed in; particularly luxurious coffins like this one.