Alfred Van Vogt: Null–A Three

The fantastic implication was:… I must be another Gilbert Gosseyn body, somehow awakened before the previous one died.

As he recalled it, Gosseyn One had arrived in the city of the Games Machine, on Earth, with a false memory of where he had come from. Then, after he was killed by an agent of the interstellar invasion force there on Earth, suddenly he was on Venus, believing himself to be the same Gosseyn. That second Gosseyn had proceeded to defeat the invasion forces, and had subsequently gone to Gorgzid, the home planet of the invaders.

That Gosseyn Number Two was still out there in far distant space, and was, in fact, the Alter Ego referred to by the third voice. And at this exact moment—if there could be a similar moment so far away—that Number Two was recovering from an attempt by a group to “jump” to another galaxy, from which (they believed) the human race had come tens of thousands or a million years before.

Gosseyn Three, lying there in the pitch darkness of a location aboard what he believed was a spaceship, paused in his recollection of the past history of the Gilbert Gosseyn bodies, and, addressing that distant Gosseyn Alter Ego, said mentally, “Have I got that correct, Gosseyn Two?”

The reply—it must have been a reply, and not just a thought of his own, because of what it said—came instantly: “We could argue the number. My understanding was that the next group of Gosseyn bodies was eighteen years old. You seem to belong to my generation. Which makes you Number Three of those who actually emerged from their state of suspended animation and became consciously aware.”

“All right, I’m Three and you’re Two. Well, Two, my question is, do you think I can handle this situation, even though I’m newly awakened?”

“You’ve got all the stuff I have,” came the remote reply, “and of course you have me monitoring what’s going on.”

“I have an impression you’re far away, and can’t be too helpful.”

“As soon as you’re able, get a twenty decimal mental picture of some floor location; and in emergency—who knows?”

“Do you think it would be wise for both of us to be in a place where we could get killed?”

“It really wouldn’t be wise.”

“Why do you think they’re keeping me in a situation where I can’t see anything?”

The faraway reply came at once: “Two possibilities. First, they’re just being careful. Second, their set-up is an autocracy. In such a situation, all lesser persons have to protect themselves from subsequent criticism by appearing to take no chances. That third voice sounded strong, but maybe he, also, wishes to point out later that he proceeded step by step. On that basis, you’ll presently hear from Voice Number Four with even greater authority, taking his precautions.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We intended to organize a second jump after the first one apparently failed. But what has happened to you creates a confusion. And we now intend to delay until your situation clarifies.”

Gosseyn Three, lying there in the darkness, was silent, noting fleeting thoughts he had. “Of course,” he said, “the simplest solution could be for me to just join you out there, and try to help you—”

His thought stopped. Because he was getting a no. “Okay,” he acknowledged, “I get the reasoning. Someone conscious has to stay here. And we don’t know how many sleeping Gosseyns remain at our age level, and can’t be absolutely sure that there is an age eighteen group.”

He broke off, “Anyway, I’d better concentrate on this situation. It has a powerful look to it.”

“It sure does,” came the thought of that far, far away Gosseyn Two. “Good luck.”

So here he was—his belief—in a room, now; no longer inside the capsule.

Emotionally, he felt more secure. The rubber attachments were explained: Long ago, a number of Gosseyn bodies had been put in various hiding places. And each one, apparently, had his turn at awakening, following the death of the Gosseyn whose turn had come earlier.

Except, of course, he himself—Gosseyn Three—had awakened while Gosseyn Two was still alive. Which explained why the rubber attachments were still attached. They probably constituted an intricate system for providing sustenance, and draining body wastes, and were designed to keep each body alive while it was still in a state of suspended animation.

Except, naturally that wouldn’t apply any more. Not now that he was no longer in the capsule and, so far as he could determine, in a large room.

… Here on this sliding bed, my body is still attached to all those rubber connectors. But the connectors themselves must have let go of whatever tanks and machines they were fastened to inside the capsule. Let go in some automatic fashion when I was moved out here—

And, somehow, through it all, he had done his breathing without any tubes. That was true both there and here.

… So why not disconnect this junk, and see if I can get up.

Meaning, among many other realities, could a body that had not moved, or exercised, during its entire existence, actually function muscularly? Though, come to think of it, he had moved his arms. Had pushed against the ceiling. Had probed into the various reaches of his little home.

But, surely, disconnecting would put him into a better position to act. No use just lying here. Time to force a few issues, and find out how his captors responded.

It was a do-something-himself purpose at last. Firmly, Gosseyn moved both hands down to the same location: his stomach. The biggest tube was there.

With the fingers of one hand he grasped the flesh at the point where the tube was attached. With his other hand, he grasped the tube. And he was about to tug with determination—when the lights went on,

Simultaneously, two pairs of hands grabbed him.

“I think we had better disconnect the survival equipment.”

It was the voice that he had named Voice Number Two. The identification of the speaker was somewhere in the back of Gosseyn’s mind. The front part of his brain was occupied with the sudden flood of illumination. The glare was briefly too much for Gosseyn’s vision centers.

He had a score of fleeting impressions, nonetheless. The room itself seemed to glitter. The two men were medium-sized individuals in white—or so it seemed in those moments of utter dazzlement. The walls seemed to be darker, but did gleam, somehow; however, they seemed far away. Vaguely, through all the confusion, he was aware that he had let go of the rubber connective to his stomach area.

His captors must have accepted that as a victory for their purpose, whatever it was. Because, they stepped back, and away from him. And he was vaguely aware of them standing there, and watching him.

Gosseyn stayed where he was, slitting his eyes against the glare of light. And, swiftly now, adjusting to a realization that there was a source of intense brightness directly above him. Which had undoubtedly caused most of his initial vision difficulty.

Moments after that discovery, since there seemed to be no point in pretending, he turned his head. Gazed directly at the two men. And said, “I am no danger to you, gentlemen. So, tell me! What is your problem?”

It was his first attempt to obtain information. Which was, it seemed to him, the only purpose he could have at this stage, in his condition.

There was no reply. But that was not a total nothingness. Simply observing them provided an opportunity for information, and for additional analysis of his situation.

What he was looking at, lying there with his head turned, was a large, bright room with machinery in it, and, directly facing him, a wall with row on row of built-in instrumentation. That was what had gleamed.