The Collected Stories of Frank Herbert Read Online Free PDF Page A

can … not … tell.”
    Paul almost rubbed his hands. A simple ‘Don’t talk about it,’ he thought.
    â€œJust nod your head if I repeat the command,” he said. “Does it say, ‘You must not tell’?”
    Her head nodded.
    Paul rubbed his hands against his pants legs and realized suddenly that he was perspiring excessively.
    â€œWhat is it you must not tell?” he asked.
    She shook her head without speaking.
    â€œYou must tell me,” he said. “If you do not tell me, your right foot will begin to burn and itch unbearably and will continue to do so until you do tell me. Tell me what it is that you have been commanded not to tell.”
    Again she shook her head. She reached down and began to scratch her right foot. She pulled off her shoe.
    â€œYou must tell me,” Paul said. “What is the first word of the command?”
    The girl looked up at him, but her eyes remained unfocused.
    â€œYou…” she said.
    It was as though she had brought the word from some dark place deep within her and the saying of it was almost too much to bear. She continued to scratch her right leg.
    â€œWhat is the second word?” Paul asked.
    She tried to speak, but failed.
    â€œIs it ‘must’?” he asked. “Nod your head if it is.”
    She nodded her head.
    â€œYou ‘must’ what?”
    Again she was wordless.
    He thought about it for a moment. “Sensory perception,” he thought. He leaned forward. “Is it ‘You must sense…’?” he asked. “Is it ‘You must sense only…’?”
    She relaxed. Her head nodded and she said, “Yes.”
    Paul took a deep breath.
    â€œWhat is it ‘You must sense only…’?” he asked.
    She opened her mouth, her lips moved, but no sound issued.
    He felt like screaming at her, dragging the answer from her mind with his hands.
    â€œWhat is it?” His voice cracked on the question. “Tell me!”
    She shook her head from side to side. He noticed signs of awakening.
    Again he took a deep breath. “What will happen to you if you tell me?”
    â€œI’ll die,” she said.
    He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “That is foolishness,” he said. “You can’t die just because you say a few words. You know that. Now tell me what it is that you have been ordered to sense.”
    She stared straight ahead of her at nothing, mouth open. Paul lowered his head to look directly into her eyes. “Do you see me?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” she said.
    â€œWhat do you see?” he asked.
    â€œI see death.”
    â€œLook at me instead,” Paul said. “You remember me.”
    â€œYou are death,” she said.
    â€œThat’s nonsense! Look at me,” he commanded.
    Her eyes opened wider. Paul stared into them. Her eyes seemed to grow and grow and grow and grow … Paul found himself unable to look away. There was nothing else in the world except two blue-gray eyes. A deep, resonant voice, like a low-register cello, filled his mind.
    â€œYou will forget everything that has happened tonight,” it said. “You will die rather than remember. You will, you must, sense only those things which you have been commanded to sense. I,  ______ , command it. Do you remember me?”
    Paul’s lips formed the word, “yes.”
    â€œWho am I?” the voice asked.
    Paul dampened his dry lips with his tongue. “You are death,” he said.
    *   *   *
    Bureaucracy has a kind of timeless, raceless mold which makes its communiques recognizable as to type by the members of any bureau anywhere. The multiple copies, the precise wording to cover devious intent, the absolute protocol of address—all are of a pattern, whether the communication is to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation or the Denebian Bureau of Indoctrination.
    Mirsar