A Handful of Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

University. We had the same room.” He went towards Nelson.
    “Stay away from me!” Nelson snarled.
    “Listen. Remember our second year? Remember that girl? What was her name—” He rubbed his forehead. “The one with the dark hair. The one we met over at Ted’s place?”
    “Stop!” Nelson waved the gun frantically. “I don’t want to hear any more. You killed him! You… machine.”
    Olham looked at Nelson. “You’re wrong. I don’t know what happened, but the robot never reached me. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe the ship crashed.” He turned to Peters. “I’m Olham. I know it. No transfer was made. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”
    He touched himself, running his hands over his body. “There must be some way to prove it. Take me back to earth. An X-ray examination, a neurological study, anything like that will show you. Or maybe we can find the crashed ship.”
    Neither Peters nor Nelson spoke.
    “I am Olham,” he said again. “I know I am. But I can’t prove it.”
    “The robot,” Peters said, “would be unaware that he was not the real Spence Olham. He would become Olham in mind as well as the body. He was given an artificial memory system, false recall. He would look like him, have his memories, his thoughts and interests, perform his job.
    “But there would be one difference. Inside the robot is a U-Bomb ready to explode at the trigger phrase.” Peters moved a little away. “That’s the one difference. That’s why we’re taking you to the Moon. They’ll disassemble you and remove the bomb. Maybe it will explode, but it won’t matter there.”
    Olham sat down slowly.
    “We’ll be there soon,” Nelson said.
    He lay back, thinking frantically, as the ship dropped slowly down. Under them was the pitted surface of the Moon, the endless expanse of ruin. What could he do? What would save him?
    “Get ready,” Peters said.
    In a few minutes he would be dead. Down below he could see a tiny dot, a building of some kind. There were men in the building, the demolition team, waiting to tear him to bits. They would rip him open, pull off his arms and legs, break him apart. When they found no bomb they would be surprised; they would know but it would be too late.
    Olham looked around the small cabin. Nelson was still holding the gun. There was no chance there. If he could get a doctor, have an examination made—that was the only way. Mary could help him. He thought frantically, his mind racing. Only a few minutes, just a little time left. If he could contact her, get word to her some way.
    “Easy,” Peters said. The ship came down slowly, bumping on the rough ground. There was silence.
    “Listen,” Olham said thickly. “I can prove I’m Spence Olham. Get a doctor. Bring him here—”
    “There’s the squad.” Nelson pointed. “They’re coming.” He glanced nervously at Olham. “I hope nothing happens.”
    “We’ll be gone before they start work,” Peters said. “We’ll be out of here in a moment.” He put on his pressure suit. When he had finished he took the gun from Nelson. “I’ll watch him for a moment.”
    Nelson put on his pressure suit, hurrying awkwardly. “How about him?” He indicated Olham. “Will he need one?”
    “No.” Peters shook his head. “Robots probably don’t require oxygen.”
    The group of men were almost to the ship. They halted, waiting. Peters signalled to them.
    “Come on!” He waved his hand and the men approached warily; stiff, grotesque figures in their inflated suits.
    “If you open the door,” Olham said, “it means my death. It will be murder.”
    “Open the door,” Nelson said. He reached for the handle.
    Olham watched him. He saw the man’s hand tighten around the metal rod. In a moment the door would swing back, the air in the ship would rush out. He would die, and presently they would realize their mistake. Perhaps at some other time, when there was no war, men might not act this way, hurrying an individual to