Alfred Van Vogt - Null–A Three

Enin and he crossed the street, and so, presently, they were at the main entrance. And he was pushing a button that had above it the word, CARETAKER. Next to the button was a small, ordinary door.

At least two minutes went by. And then the smaller door opened; and a middle aged man stood there.

Neither the man’s eyes nor manner had any welcome in them. However, after he had reluctantly read Blayney s authorization on its official form, he stepped aside, and pointed along a dimly lighted, pock-marked main floor that looked as if it had once been marble. He said:

“There’s a door about two-thirds down, which has on it the word, ‘private’.” His voice sounded unhappy, as he finished: “I guess that’s what you want.”

Gosseyn said, “We’ll also need two keys for this door, so we won’t have to bother you when we’ve been out.” He indicated the front entrance. Another memory came. He added, “I seem to recall that there’s a side door. We should probably have keys to that, also.”

“Yeah, okay,” was the gloomy reply. And, apparently, a thought was finally coalescing inside the caretaker. “Things going to happen here?” he asked.

“A lot,” replied Gosseyn.

But he spoke that final comment over his shoulder, as Enin and he started walking off down the broad floor.

After they had walked a hundred or so feet, Enin said, “Something funny about that fellow.”

Gosseyn found himself agreeing silently that the caretaker had been singularly reluctant. Perhaps—he wondered—the man’s job was a sinecure; whereas greater activity might require him to start earning his salary.

The man should probably be watched… though it was not readily apparent what inimical action such a person could take… unless there were others involved.

Gosseyn grew aware that he was smiling wryly at the direction of his thoughts. The vague implication was that there might be enemies of General Semantics, somewhere in the background.

But that really wasn’t a problem. For the most part, the vast majority of the earth population couldn’t care less. For them, Venus—where everyone had to be a self-starter—had no attraction whatsoever.

—No jobs there!—Good God, how do they operate the place?—

The timeless masses of earth, on whom the passage of the centuries had made no basic impact… except that, with the development of technology, they now pushed buttons which operated the daily machinery of their homes and their transportation on a level of underlying intricacy that the individual normally did even try to comprehend.

So—Gosseyn’s interim conclusion, as Enin and he came to the door marked private—if the caretaker needed to be spied on, it would be for a reason that, right now, was obscure. And not analyzable in advance.

As they went through the unlocked door, marked private, Enin said, “Looks like we’re meeting nothing but crumby people and going to nothing but crumby places:” The thought which the comment evoked in Gosseyn Three brought a smile to his lips; whereupon, after a small pause, he spoke the famous General Semantics concept:

“Enin, the map is not necessarily the territory; and, besides, you’ve got your maps slightly mixed. After all, we’ve just come from a meeting with the top government leader of this continent.”

There was a pause. Then: “Oh, him!” Another pause, followed by a frown, and the words: “What do you mean, map?”

“Later,” said Gosseyn, “I’ll explain.”

But with him, also, and, with or without the aid of General Semantics’ concepts, the living quarters he was looking at, did not evoke love at first sight.

The apartment, in which they found themselves, was large enough for their immediate purpose; but it had definitely not been well-kept. And it had, visibly, been stripped of some of its furniture.

There was only one place in the living room to sit down: a couch. No chairs were to be seen, and only one small table, and a cabinet phone.

In the kitchen there was a built-in breakfast nook, a built-in oven, and a large, built-in refrigerator. Missing from the surrounding built-in shelves were about three quarters of the dishes that must have been there at one time.

There were two bedrooms, one with a single, kingsized bed and the other with twin beds; but no other furniture. Built-in clothes closets were available in both bedrooms; so at least there would be a place to store any clothing they might acquire.

He was aware of Enin going into the smaller bedroom. So Gosseyn headed for the kitchen. In his initial search of the drawers there, he had noticed a pad and a pen. So now he sat down and began to make a list.

It was his first quiet moment since their arrival. Sitting there, he became aware of an odd sensation inside his head and body. Gosseyn paused, pen poised, frowning… What, what?—

Interruption: Enin’s voice reached to him from beyond the door: “Do you think he means it? Do you think he really going to do it?”

“Do what?”

His awareness of the strange internal feeling grew dim, as he called out the question, and followed it with another one:

“And who do you mean?”

“Mr. Blayney! Do you think he’ll really rebuild this place?”

Gosseyn finished writing the word “milk.” Then he laid the pen down. Stood up. And walked out to the living room. As he did so he realized he was experiencing a complexity of thoughts and awareness:

… Awareness that the strange sensation had been there all these minutes, maybe even hours, damped out by the demanding presence of Enin; thought about how to answer the boy’s question; vague consciousness of his alter ego, and all those realities—

He found Enin lying on the living room floor in what could essentially be called a twisted position. But the kid seemed at ease. Gosseyn walked over, and stood looking down at the emperor of all Dzan, and spoke again in General Semantics phraseology:

“The best answer I can give you is based on a generalized map I have inside me of the way governments work.”

“But you said the map is not the territory.” The boy’s eyes were bright.

The man was aware of himself smiling. “I meant the map is not necessarily the territory. And that’s particularly true when we’re dealing with the maps we have of the way the world is and the way people are in general. Here on earth, President Blayney has a lot of money at his disposal for public spending. One or more companies will do the re-building of the institute; and they’ll receive government aid to do it. What’s important about that is, it puts the builders on our side. So—”

At that moment the phone rang. Gosseyn walked over, lifted the receiver, and said, “Hello! Who are you calling?”

A man’s voice said, “This is the Daynbar Construction Company. We understand you have been authorized to rebuild the institute; and we’d like to send a team over to discuss the renovation.”

Gosseyn had his moment of awe, even though he had just predicted something basic like this. His instant deduction was that an associate of Blayney had contacted a builder who, presumably, at some later time would pay the informant for the information.

Since it was, for him, a positive development, his reply was within the frame of business courtesy: “When can your people get over here?”

It developed that their “team” would show up at 8 A.M. next day… all very normal, Gosseyn realized. But, somehow, not fast enough for the feeling of urgency that was—somehow—reaching into him from… somewhere.

After he had replaced the receiver, he grew aware that Enin was up and standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at him. But the boy said nothing. Whereupon Gosseyn commented: “I hope all this is not too boring for you.”