Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

"But if Reich himself knew none of this... how did you get at it, Powell?" "Well, sir. That was the problem. We couldn't get it by peeping him.

He was hostile and you have to have complete cooperation from a subject to get that kind of material. It takes months anyway. Also, if Reich recovered from the series of shocks he'd had, he would be able to readjust, reorient, and become immune to us. That was dangerous, too, because he was in a position of power to rock the solar system. He was one of those rare World-Shakers whose compulsions might have torn down our society and irrevocably committed us to his own psychotic pattern."

Crabbe nodded.

"He very nearly succeeded. These men appear every so often... links between the past and the future. If they are permitted to mature... If the link is permitted to weld... The world finds itself chained to a dreadful tomorrow."

"Then what did you do?"

"We used the Mass Cathexis Measure, sir. It's difficult to explain, but I'll do my best. Every human being has a psyche composed of latent and capitalized energy. Latent energy is our reserve... the untapped natural resources of our mind. Capitalized energy is that latent energy which we call up and put to work. Most of us use only a small portion of our latent energy."

"I understand."

"When the Esper Guild uses the Mass Cathexis Measure, every Esper opens his psyche, so to speak, and contributes his latent energy to a pool. One Esper alone taps this pool and becomes the canal for the latent energy. He captilizes it and puts it to work. He can accomplish tremendous things... if he can control it. It's a difficult and dangerous operation. About on a par with jetting to the moon with a stick of dynamite stuck---er---riding on dynamite sticks..."

Suddenly Crabbe grinned. "I wish I were a peeper," he said. "I'd like to get the real image in your mind."

"You've got it already, sir." Powell grinned back. A rapport had been established between them for the first time.

"It was necessary," Powell continued, "to confront Reich with The Man With No Face. We had to make him see the truth before we could get the truth. Using the pool of latent energy, I built a common neurotic concept for Reich... the illusion that he alone in the world was real."

"Why, I've---Is that common?"

"Oh yes, sir. It's one of the run-of-the-mill escape patterns. When life gets tough, you tend to take refuge in the idea that it's all make-believe... a giant hoax. Reich had the seeds of that weakness in him already. I simply forced them and let Reich defeat himself. Life was getting tough for him. I persuaded him to believe that the universe was a hoax... a puzzle-box. Then I tore it down, layer by layer. I made him believe that the test was ended. The puzzle was being dismantled. And I left Reich alone with The Man With No Face. He looked into the face and saw himself and his father... and we had everything."

Powell picked up his parcel and arose. Crabbe jumped up and escorted him to the door with a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"You've done a phenomenal job, Powell. Really phenomenal. I can't tell you... It must be a wonderful thing to be an Esper."

"Wonderful and terrible, sir."

"You must all be very happy."

"Happy?" Powell paused at the door and looked at Crabbe. "Would you be happy to live your life in a hospital, Commissioner?"

"A hospital?"

"That's where we live... All of us. In the psychiatric ward. Without escape... without refuge. Be grateful you're not a peeper, sir. Be grateful that you only see the outward man. Be grateful that you never see the passions, the hatreds, the jealousies, the malice, the sicknesses... Be grateful you rarely see the frightening truth in people. The world will be a wonderful place when everyone's a peeper and everyone's adjusted... But until then, be greatful you're blind."

He left headquarters, hired a Jumper and was jetted North toward Kingston Hospital. He satin the cabin with the parcel on his knees, gazing down at the magnificent Hudson Valley, whistling a crooked tune. Once he grinned and muttered: "Wow! That was some line I handed Crabbe. But I had to cement our relations. Now he'll feel sorry for peepers... and friendly."

Kingston Hospital came into view... acre upon rolling acre of magnificent landscaping. Solariums, pools, lawns, athletic fields, dormitories, clinics... all in exquisite neo-classic design. As the Jumper descended, Powell could make out the figures of patients and attendants... all bronzed, active, laughing, playmg. He thought of the vigilant measures the Board of Governors was forced to take to prevent Kingston Hospital from becoming another Spaceland. Too many fashionable malingerers were already attempting to obtain admission.

Powell checked in at the Visitors Office, found Barbara D'Courtney's location and started across the grounds. He was weak, but he wanted to leap hedges, vault gates, run races. He had awakened after seven days' exhaustion with a question---one question to ask Barbara. He felt exhilarated.

They saw one another at the same moment. Across a broad stretch of lawn flanked by field-stone terraces and brilliant gardens. She flew toward him, waving, and he ran toward her. Then as they approached, both were stricken with shyness. They stopped a few feet apart, not daring to look at each other.

"Hello."

"Hello, Barbara."

"I... Let's get into the shade, shall we?"

They turned toward the terrace wall. Powell glanced at her from the

corner of his eye. She was alive again... alive as he had never seen her before. And her urchin expression---the expression that he had imagined was a phase of her D?j? ?prouv? development was still there. She looked inexpressively mischievous, high-spirited, fascinating. But she was adult. He did not know her.

"I'm being discharged this evening," Barbara said.

"I know."

"I'm terribly grateful to you for all you've---"

"Please don't say that."

"For all you've done," Barbara continued firmly. They sat down on a

stone bench. She looked at him with grave eyes. "I want to tell you how

grateful I am." "Please, Barbara. You're terrifying me." "Am I?"

"I knew you so intimately as... well, as a child. Now..."

"Now I'm grown up again."

"Yes."

"You must get to know me better." She smiled graciously. "Shall we

say... Tea tomorrow at five?" "At five..." "Informal. Don't dress." "Listen," Powell said desperately. "I helped dress you more than once.

And comb your hair. And brush your teeth." She waved her hand airily. "Your table manners were a caution. You liked fish but you hated lamb.

You hit me in the eye with a chop." "That was ages ago, Mr. Powell." "That was two weeks ago, Miss D'Courtney." She arose with magnificent poise. "Really Mr. Powell. I feel it would

be best to end the interview. If you feel impelled to cast chronographical aspersions..." She stopped and looked at him. The urchin appeared again in her face. "Chronographical?" she inquired.

He dropped the parcel and caught her in his arms.

"Mr. Powell, Mr. Powell, Mr. Powell..." she murmured. "Hello, Mr.

Powell... " "My God, Barbara... Baba, dear. For a moment I thought you meant it." "I was paying you back for being grown up." "You always were a revengeful kid." "You always were a mean daddy." She leaned back and looked at him.

"What are you really like? What are we both like? Will we have time to find

out?" "Time?" "Before... Peep me. I can't say it." "No, dear. You'll have to say it." "Mary Noyes told me. Everything." "Oh. She did?" Barbara nodded. "But I don't care. I don't care. She was right. I'll

settle for anything. Even if you can't marry me..."

He laughed. The exhilaration bubbled out of him. "You won't have to settle for anything," he said. "Sit down. I want to ask you one question."