Джеффри Лорд: Undying World

He had reached her flat now and stood still, his finger poised over the button, hesitating in the foyer like a school boy about to enter his first brothel. People brushed past him, coming and going, and he did not see them.

Meg had been kindly, but explicit. She could not hide her pity or her disappointment and slight contempt, and Blade was consumed, as he was consumed now, with a baffled rage and hurt and a senseless shame that only a man could know. Nothing helped. Nothing could help or ever would until he was a complete man again.

«We'll try once again,» she had promised. «The third time might be the charm. We will just have to see. And if nothing happens we will just have to say goodbye, Richard, for you will be no good to me. Now go home, love. Rest and don't drink too much. Goodbye. See you in two days.»

Blade raised his finger once more and poised it over the button. One slight pressure and the buzzer would go. Meg was up there waiting. Ultimatum. Third time. Fail three times running and you are out. Rules of the game.

He watched his reflection in the brassy mirror of the mailboxes. He looked the same. Handsome by conventional standards-he had no false modesty-a big stalwart young man in the peak of condition. The face he shaved every morning, the body he lived in, bathed each day, took meticulous care of. What had happened to him? Where had it all gone wrong?

A girl said, «Excuse me, please.»

He moved aside to let her snap open her mailbox. She gave him a sideways look of approval. A bright little brunette bird, a sharp and pretty nose, mini-skirted, legs glistening and sending a waft of clean flesh and perfume to him. Blade smiled faintly, but did not speak. She fumbled with her key, taking longer than necessary. Blade watched her, again slowly raising his finger to the button of Meg's flat. The girl got the door open, shot an open glance of invitation at Blade, then let the door shut behind her. There was disappointment in the wobble of her trim buttocks as she disappeared down a corridor.

Blade's finger hovered over the button. He could not press it. He was well over six feet, two hundred twenty pounds of muscle, and he lacked strength to move his finger a quarter of an inch. He left the foyer.

Coward!

He knew then what he was going to do. The man in Edinburgh had told him: «In some cases of psychological impotence, and I think yours falls into that category, cures have been effected by a complete change in environment. I know it works in some cases, though not all.»

Blade, remembering in the taxi, smiled. He had said, «You mean take a long sea voyage?»

The Edinburgh doctor was an American, Harvard Med, who for family reasons had settled in Scotland. He had grinned at Blade and told him, «The sea voyage bit is Victorian, but that isn't what I meant. When I said a change of environment I meant a real change in environment. New job, new friends, new hobbies, new country if possible, new every damned thing as near as you can come to it.»

The taxi stopped outside the Tower. As he paid the man, Blade glanced back. J's man was also paying a cabby. Blade smiled. Within a few minutes now J would know where he was, and J would come running. J would suspect what he was about to do and J was not going to like it. J was dead set against Blade going through the computer again.

So was Blade, for that matter. Or had been. Now he had changed his mind. A complete and absolute change in environment?

The doctor in Edingburgh, all unsuspecting, might have been talking about Dimension X.

Lord Leighton, in a very few minutes now, was going to be very pleased. Blade did not give a damn one way or the other. The computer, he knew, had somehow bitched him up-was responsible for his impotency. He knew he would find danger out there-fear and suffering-and he might not make it back, but at the moment he was not in a mood to worry about that. With an older man it might be different, but he was a strong young animal and he could not go on living this sexless existence. Better Dimension X, whatever the hazards.

Lord Leighton's humped figure shuffled to the enormous instrument complex and pressed the red toggle. J was there, white faced and nervous, mouth open in last useless entreaty, still begging Blade to change his mind.

A few minutes before, as Lord L bound him into the chair with a web of electrodes, Blade had found the courage to try to explain to J.

«I must go, J. I don't want to go, but I must. I am in deep trouble and I must.» He sought to recall the Edinburgh man's exact words. «I must seek out a highly successful sexual climate. Where else but Dimension X? I have never had any sexual difficulties there. I am going, J. Wish me luck.»

Then Lord L pressed the red toggle. A mist filled the little computer chamber. A mist that soon dispelled. He was still in the chamber, bound to the chair, with Lord L fussing and using bad language.

«Something wrong, my boy. Probably minor. A circuit, a condenser or resistor. Have it fixed in no time. You better go down to the apartment and rest for a bit. I'll call you when I've put matters straight.»

Blade opened his mouth and nothing came out. He knew then that the computer had him, but in a way he had not experienced before. No pain this time. He was struck dumb and now he was moving, his limbs not his own, subject to the will of the machine.

Blade tore away the encumbering electrodes. Flame hissed, smoke spurted and he felt nothing. He strode naked and free to the door of the chamber. J made a move to detain him and Blade struck him aside. J crumpled. Lord L cursed and pleaded. Blade found stairs and began to climb. His flesh was scorched here and there. He could smell the tar-paste Lord L had smeared on him.

Naked he mounted the long flight of stairs… moving now… an escalator. Men and women saw him and waved and smiled. No one minded his nakedness.

Blade wandered the crowded streets, trying to find the tube, the underground kiosk. The spring sun was pleasant on his bare hide. He began to achieve an enormous erection. Aha. That was more like it. The computer had come through for him. He was cured of impotency. He stopped to admire himself in a shop window. The computer was a friend indeed.

He stopped to ask directions of a policeman. The man was obviously jealous of Blade, for after one glance at his erection he frowned and his voice was curt. But he told Blade how to find a subway that would take him to Hell.

Blade did not want to go to Hell, but he had no volition of his own in the matter. The computer was sending him to Hell and he was duty bound to obey. The machine was his friend.

He found the kiosk and took the stairs down. A lovely woman, a blonde, naked beneath her mink coat, bumped into him and smiled and asked directions.

«Such a burrow down here,» she complained. «I am sure I will never find my way out. And I have to be in Paradise by five o'clock.»

Blade apologized for not being able to help. He told her he was going in the opposite direction. Her smile was sad.

«You're making a terrible mistake,» she said. «Why not change your mind and come with me?»

Blade shook his head. He was a slave, the computer his master, and how could he explain that?

The blonde opened her mink coat. Her breasts were resplendent, breathtaking, little pointed bombs of satin flesh. Her nipples crackled and gave off sparks. Around her waist was a garter belt made of puce neon. It kept flashing off and on-follow me to Paradise.

Blade left her and found his platform. He felt like a fool. It was foolish to take a train to Hell when he should be following the blonde to Paradise, but what could he do? The computer commanded.

He was alone on the platform. He heard the sound of a train approaching. The sound grew and grew into a roar, filling the bowels of the earth. Blade cringed. A terrible odor filled the platform, an odious stench that made Blade hold his nose. He wished the train would hurry up.