Null-A Three Read Online Free PDF Page A

with what happened to us. So push at him to find out what he knows. And don’t be gentle, or slow!”
    Gosseyn had time to name him Voice Four. At which moment Voice Two stirred. And said courteously, “Sir, shall we disconnect the prisoner from his life support system?”
    The reply was absolutely, wonderfully devious. Voice Four said, “Of course. But don’t make any mistakes.”
    Almost, those words distracted Gosseyn. Because the meaning seemed to be a total—but total—validation of his Alter Ego’s evaluation of the political system of these people.
    Somehow, in spite of that marvellous meaning, Gosseyn managed to notice a phenomenon: In speaking as he did, the mouth of Voice Two had parted; and he undoubtedly said something. But it wasn’t from his mouth that the English words were spoken. They came from the instrument in the cap at the top of the man’s head.
    Presumably, Gosseyn could have attempted an evaluation of the nature of a science that had taken a language out of his brain—or was taking it moment by moment. But the fact of such a system, and a fleeting awareness of its reality, was all that he had time for.
    What the fleeting awareness told him was that here, apparently, was a computer-level explanation for what, in a universe of millions of languages, had briefly seemed to imply that here, indeed, were special people. There was no time, then, for analysis of how such a machine operated. Because, even as that much simpler reality—of the existence of a mechanical method of speaking another language—penetrated . . . Gosseyn saw that Voice One was approaching him.
    The man had a faint smile on his somewhat square face. It was the kind of smile that his shared memory of the experiences of Gosseyn One and Two on earth, would describe as being satiric. As the man paused, and stared down at Gosseyn, his eyes, seen close up, were dark gray in color. And the smile gave them what would, on earth, have been considered a sly, knowing look.
    His manner did not appear threatening. And, actually, for a man lying on his back there seemed to be no purpose that could be meaningful quickly enough. Except just wait for, at least, the other man’s first move.
    The “move” was, as it turned out, more words. The voice box from Voice One’s cap said, “As you may have heard, our instructions are to remove all this!” His hand and arm came up: the hand and one finger indicated the rubber tubing. Voice One finished, “And we are also instructed to remove it rapidly, as you heard.”
    There still seemed no need for a response on any level. But Gosseyn was vaguely unhappy with himself, suddenly. The man’s voice had a one-up tone in it.
    . . . Am I missing something? Or rather—Gosseyn silently corrected himself—have I already missed it?—
    Voice One was continuing with the same faint, knowing smile: “I wish to reassure you that the speed at which these devices are going to be removed, will not in any way discommode you, because—” triumphant tone—“they all disconnected automatically on a lower level when you were removed from the capsule.”
    The reaction seemed excessive; and—it occurred to Gosseyn—not necessarily a precise truth. Some of the rubber tubes might be connected through his skin to internal organs, or blood vessels, or nerves; and should not be wrenched loose.
    Nevertheless, he lay silent as the hands and fingers of Voice One touched his skin. And pulled. And tugged. And wiggled. Always, the object of the action was one of the tubes, as they were removed, one by one. There was no pain at all, which was interesting, and relieving; but also he was able to have a thought or two about his situation. The result: a double-purpose.
    And so, presently, as Voice One, still smiling slyly, stepped back, Gosseyn sat up. Twisted his body. Swung his feet over the edge. And sat there, still naked, facing his captors.
    Because of his purpose, it was not a time, if he could help it, for more