Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

The lights in the groined vaults overhead changed again and shifted up the spectrum. The costumes changed color. Skin that had glowed with pink nacre now shone with eerie luminescence.

On his left flank, Tate gave the prearranged signal: Danger! Danger!

Danger!

Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun. RIFF. Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun...

Maria was introducing another effete, all gush, all cropped copper hair, all fuchsia blouse and Prussian blue culottes.

"Larry Ferar, Ben. My other social secretary. Larry's been dying to meet you."

Four, sir; three, sir...

"Mr. Reich! But too thrilled. I can't utter word one."

Two, sir; one!

The young man accepted Reich's smile and moved on. Still circling in convoy, Tate gave Reich a reassuring nod. Again the overhead lights changed. Portions of the guests' costumes appeared to dissolve. Reich, who had never succumbed to the fashion of wearing ultra-violet windows in his clothes, stood secure in his opaque suit, watching with contempt the quick, roving eyes around him, searching, appraising, comparing, desiring.

Tate signalled: Danger! Danger! Danger!

Tenser, said the Tensor...

A secretary appeared at Maria's elbow, "Madame," he lisped, "a slight contretemps."

"What is it?"

"The Chervil boy. Galen Chervil."

Tate's face constricted.

"What about him?" Maria peeped through the crowd.

"Left of the fountain. An impostor, Madame. I have peeped him. He has no invitation. He's a college student. He bet he could crash the party. He intends to steal a picture of you as proof."

"Of me!" Maria said, staring through the windows in young Chervil's clothes. "What does he think of me?"

"Well, Madame, he's extremely difficult to probe. I think he'd like to steal more from you than your picture."

"Oh, would he?" Maria cackled delightedly.

"He would, Madame. Shall he be removed?"

"No." Maria glanced once more at the muscular young man, then turned

away. "He'll get his proof." "And it won't be stolen," Reich said. "Jealous! Jealous!" she squawked. "Let's dine." In response to Tate's urgent sign, Reich stepped aside momentarily. "Reich, you've got to give it up." "What the hell... ?" "The Chervil boy." "What about him?" "He's a 2nd." "God damn!" "He's precocious, brilliant... I met him at Powell's last Sunday.

Maria Beaumont never invites peepers to her house. I'm only in on your

pass. I was depending on that." "And this peeper kid has to be the one to crash. God damn!" "Give it up, Reich." "Maybe I can stay away from him." "Reich, I can block the social secretaries. They're only 3rds. But I

can't guarantee to handle them and a 2nd too... even if he is only a kid. He's young. He may be too nervous to do any clever peeping. But I can't promise."

"I'm not quitting," Reich growled. "I can't. I'll never get a chance like this again. Even if I knew I could, I wouldn't quit. I couldn't. I've got the stink of D'Courtney in my nostrils. I---"

"Reich, you'll never---"

"Don't argue. I'm going through with it." Reich turned his scowl full on Tate's nervous face. "I know you're looking for a chance to squirm out of this; but you won't. We're trapped in this together, right down the line, from here to Demolition."

He shaped his distorted face into a frozen smile and rejoined his hostess on a couch alongside one of the tables. It was still the custom for couples to feed one another at these affairs, but the gesture that had originated in oriental courtesy and generosity had degenerated into erotic play. The morsels of food were accompanied by tongue touched to fingers and were as often offered between the lips. The wine was tasted mouth to mouth.

Sweets were given more intimately.

Reich endured it all with a seething impatience, waiting for the vital word from Tate. Part of Tate's Intelligence work was to locate D'Courtney's hiding place in the house. He watched the little peeper drift through the crowd of diners, probing, prying, searching, until he at last returned with a negative shake of his head and gestured toward Maria Beaumont. Clearly Maria was the only source of information, but she was now too excited by sensuality to be easily probed. It was another in a never-ending series of crises that had to be met by the killer-instinct. Reich arose and crossed toward the fountain. Tate intercepted him.

"What are you up to, Reich?"

"Isn't it obvious? I've got to get the Chervil boy off her mind."

"How?"

"Is there any way but one?"

"For God's sake, Reich, don't go near the boy."

"Get out of my way." Reich radiated a burst of savage compulsion that made the peeper recoil. He signaled in fright and Reich tried to control himself.

"It's taking chances, I know, but the odds aren't as long as you think. In the first place, he's young and green. In the second place, he's a crasher and scared. In the third place, he can't be flying full jets or he wouldn't have let the fag secretaries peep him so easily."

"Have you got any conscious control? Can you double-think?"

"I've got that song on my mind and enough trouble to make doublethinking a pleasure. Now get the hell out of the way and stand by to peep Maria Beaumont."

Chervil was eating alone alongside the fountain, clumsily attempting to appear to belong.

"Pip," said Reich.

"Pop," said Chervil.

"Bim," said Reich.

"Bam," said Chervil.

With the latest fad in informality disposed of, Reich eased himself down alongside the boy. "I'm Ben Reich."

"I'm Gally Chervil, I mean... Galen. I---" He was visibly impressed by the name of Reich.

Tension, apprehension, and dissension...

"That damned song," Reich muttered. "Heard it for the first time the other day. Can't get it out of my mind. Maria knows you're a phoney, Chervil."

"Oh no!"

Reich nodded. Tension, apprehension...

"Should I start running?"

"Without the picture?"

"You know about that too? There must be a peeper in the house."

"Two of them. Her social secretaries. People like you are their job."

"What about that picture, Mr. Reich? I've got fifty credits riding on the line. You ought to know what a bet means. You're a gamb---I mean, financier."

"Glad I'm not a peeper, eh? Never mind. I'm not insulted. See that arch? Go straight through and turn right. You'll find a study. The walls are lined with Maria's portraits, all in synthetic stones. Help yourself. She'll never miss one."

The boy leaped up, scattering food. "Thanks, Mr. Reich. Some day I'll do you a favor."

"Such as?"

"You'd be surprised. I happen to be a---" He caught himself and blushed. "You'll find out, sir. Thanks again." He began weaving his way across the floor toward the study.

Four, sir; three, sir; two, sir; one!

Reich returned to his hostess.

"Naughty lover," she said. "Who've you been feeding? I'll tear her eyes out."

"The Chervil boy," Reich answered. "He asked me where you keep your pictures."

"Ben! You didn't tell him!"

"Sure did," Reich grinned. "He's on his way to get one now. Then he'll take off. You know I'm jealous."

She leaped from the couch and sailed toward the study.

"Bam," said Reich.

By eleven o'clock, the ritual of dining had aroused the company to a

point of intensity that required solitude and darkness for release. Maria Beaumont had never failed her guests, and Reich hoped she would not fail tonight. She had to play the Sardine game. He knew it when Tate returned from the study with concise directions for locating the hidden D'Courtney.

"I don't know how you got away with it," Tate whispered. "You're broadcasting bloodlust on every wavelength of the TP band. He's here. Alone. No servants. Only two bodyguards provided by Maria. @kins was right. He's dangerously sick..."