Heinlein, Robert A - SS - They.pdf

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They
Robert A. Heinlein
They would not let him alone.
They never would let him alone. He realized that that was part of the plot against him never to leave
him in peace, never to give him a chance to mull over the lies they had told him, time enough to pick out
the flaws, and to figure out the truth forhimself .
That damned attendant this morning! He had come busting in with his breakfast tray, waking him, and
causing him to forget his dream. If only he could remember that dreamSomeone was unlocking the door.
He ignored it.
"Howdy, old boy.They tell me you refused your breakfast?" Dr. Hayward's professionally kindly
mask hung over his bed.
"I wasn't hungry."
"But we can't have that. You'll get weak, and then I won't be able to get you well completely. Now
get up and get your clothes on and I'll order an eggnog for you. Come on, that's a good fellow!"
Unwilling, but still willing at that moment to enter into any conflict of wills, he got out of bed and
slipped on his bathrobe. "That's better," Hayward approved. "Have a cigarette?''
"No, thank you."
The doctor shook his head in a puzzled fashion."Darned if I can figure you out. Loss of interest in
physical pleasure does not fit your type of case."
"What is my type of case?" he inquired in flat tones.
" Tut! Tut !" Hayward tried to appear roguish. "If medicos told their professional secrets, they might
have to work for a living."
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"What is my type of case?"
"Well the label doesn't matter, does it? Suppose you tell me. I really know nothing about your case
as yet. Don't you think it is about time you talked?"
"I'll play chess with you."
"All right, all right."Hayward made a gesture of impatient concession. "We've played chess every day
for a week. If you will talk, I'll play chess."
What could it matter? If he was right, they already understood perfectly that he had discovered their
plot; there was nothing to be gained by concealing the obvious. Let them try to argue him out of it. Let
the tail go with the hide! To hell with it!
He got out the chessmen and commenced setting them up. "What do you know of my case so far?"
"Very little.Physical examination, negative.Past history, negative.High intelligence, as shown by your
record in school and your success in your profession.Occasional fits of moodiness, but nothing
exceptional. The only positive information was the incident that caused you to come here for treatment."
"To be brought here, you mean. Why should it cause comment?"
"Well, good gracious, man if you barricade yourself in your room and insist that your wife is plotting
against you, don't you expect people to notice?"
"But she was plotting against me and so are you.White, or black?"
" Blackit'syour turn to attack. Why do you think we are plotting against you?"
"It's an involved story, and goes way back into my early childhood. There was an immediate incident,
however" He opened by advancing the white king's knight to KB3. Hayward's eyebrowsraised .
"You make a piano attack?"
"Why not?You know that it is not safe for me to risk a gambit with you."
The doctor shrugged his shoulders and answered the opening. "Suppose we start with your early
childhood. It may shed more light than more recent incidents. Did you feel that you were being
persecuted as a child?"
"No!" He half rose from his chair. "When I was a child I was sure of myself. I knew then, I tell you; I
knew! Life was worthwhile, and I knew it. I was at peace with myself and my surroundings. Life was
good and I was good and I assumed that the creatures around me were like myself."
"And weren't they?"
"Not at all!Particularly the children.I didn't know what viciousness was until I was turned loose with
other children. The little devils! And I was expected to be like them and play with them."
The doctor nodded. "I know.The herd compulsion. Children can be pretty savage at times."
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"You've missed the point. This wasn't any healthy roughness; these creatures were different not like
myself at all. They looked like me, but they were not like me. If I tried to say anything to one of them
about anything that mattered to me, all I could get was a stare and a scornful laugh. Then they would find
some way to punish me for having said it."
Hayward nodded. "I see what you mean.How about grownups?"
"That is somewhat different. Adults don't matter to children at first or, rather they did not matter to
me. They were too big, and they did not bother me, and they were busy with things that did not enter into
my considerations. It was only when I noticed that my presence affected them that I began to wonder
about them."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, they never did the things when I was around that they did when I was not around."
Hayward looked at him carefully. "Won't that statement take quite a lot of justifying? How do you
know what they did when you weren't around?"
He acknowledged the point. "But I used to catch them just stopping. If I came into a room, the
conversation would stop suddenly, and then it would pick up about the weather or something equally
inane. Then I took to hiding and listening and looking. Adults did not behave the same way in my
presence as out of it."
"Your move, I believe. But see here, old man that was when you were a child. Every child passes
through that phase. Now that you are a man, you must see the adult point of view. Children are strange
creatures and have to be protected atleast, we do protect them from many adult interests. There is a
whole code of conventions in the matter that"
"Yes, yes," he interrupted impatiently, "I know all that. Nevertheless, I noticed enough and
remembered enough that was never clear to me later. And it put me on my guard to notice the next
thing."
"Which was?" He noticed that the doctor's eyes were averted as he adjusted a castle's position.
"The things I saw people doing and heard them talking about were never of any importance. They
must be doing something else."
"I don't follow you."
"You don't choose to follow me. I'm telling this to you in exchange for a game of chess."
"Why do you like to play chess so well?"
"Because it is the only thing in the world where I can see all the factors and understand all the rules.
Never mind I saw all around me this enormous plant, cities, farms, factories, churches, schools, homes,
railroads, luggage, roller coaster, trees, saxophones, libraries, people, and animals. People that looked
like me and who should have felt very much like me, if what I was told was the truth. But what did they
appear to be doing? `They went to work to earn the money to buy the food to get the strength to go to
work to earn the money to buy the food to get the strength to go to work to get the strength to buy the
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food to earn the money to go to' until they fell over dead. Any slight variation in the basic pattern did not
matter, for they always fell over dead. And everybody tried to tell me that I should be doing the same
thing. I knew better!"
The doctor gave him a look apparently intended to denote helpless surrender and laughed. "I can't
argue with you. Life does look like that, and maybe it is just that futile. But it is the only life we have. Why
not make up your mind to enjoy it as much as possible?"
"Oh, no!"He looked both sulky and stubborn. "You can't peddle nonsense to me by claiming to be
fresh out of sense. How do I know?Because all this complex stage setting, all these swarms of actors,
could not have been put here just to make idiot noises at each other.Some other explanation, but not that
one.An insanity as enormous, as complex, as the one around me had to be planned. I've found the plan!"
"Which is?"
He noticed that the doctor's eyes again averted.
"It is a play intended to divert me, to occupy my mind and confuse me, to keep me so busy with
details that I will not have time to think about the meaning. You are all in it, every one of you." He shook
his finger in the doctor's face. "Most of them may be helpless automatons, but you're not. You are one of
the conspirators. You've been sent in as a troubleshooter to try to force me to go back to playing the role
assigned to me!"
He saw that the doctor was waiting for him to quiet down.
"Take it easy," Hayward finally managed to say. "Maybe it is all a conspiracy, but why do you think
that you have been singled out for special attention? Maybe it is a joke on all of us. Why couldn't I be
one of the victims as well as yourself?"
"Got you!"He pointed a long finger at Hayward. "That is the essence of the plot. All of these
creatures have been set up to look like me in order to prevent me from realizing that I was the center of
the arrangements. But I have noticed the key fact, the mathematically inescapable fact, that I am unique.
Here am I, sitting on the inside. The world extends outward from me. I am the center "
"Easy, man, easy!Don't you realize that the world looks that way to me,too. We are each the center
of the universe"
"Not so! That is what you have tried to make me believe, that I am just one of millions more just like
me. Wrong! If they were like me, then I could get into communication with them. I can't. I have tried and
tried and I can't. I've sent out my inner thoughts, seeking some one other beingwho has them, too. What
have I gotten back?Wrong answers, jarring incongruities, meaningless obscenity. I've tried, I tell you.
God!how I've tried! But there is nothing out there to speak to me nothing but emptiness and otherness!"
"Wait a minute. Do you mean to say that you thinkthere, is nobody home at my end of the line? Don't
you believe that I am alive and conscious?"
He regarded the doctor soberly. "Yes, I think you are probably alive, but you are one of the others
my antagonists. But you have set thousands of others around me whose faces are blank, not lived in, and
whose speech is a meaningless reflex of noise."
"Well, then, if you concede that I am an ego, why do you insist that I am so very different from
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yourself?"
"Why? Wait!" He pushed back from the chess table and strode over to the wardrobe, from which he
took out a violin case.
While he was playing, the lines of suffering smoothed out of his face and his expression took on a
relaxed beatitude. For a while he recaptured the emotions, but not the knowledge, which he had
possessed in dreams. The melody proceeded easily from proposition to proposition with inescapable,
unforced logic. He finished with a triumphant statement of the essential thesis and turned to the doctor.
"Well?"
"Hmmm."He seemed to detect an even greater degree of caution in the doctor's manner. "It's an odd
bit, but remarkable. `S pity you didn't take up the
violinseriously. You could have made quite a reputation. You could even now. Why don't you do it?
You could afford to, I believe."
He stood and stared at the doctor for a long moment, then shook his head as if trying to clear it. "It's
no use," he said slowly, "no use at all. There is no possibility of communication. I am alone." He replaced
the instrument in its case and returned to the chess table. "My move, I believe?"
"Yes. Guard your queen."
He studied the board. "Not necessary. I no longer need my queen. Check."
The doctor interposed a pawn to parry the attack.
He nodded. "You use your pawns well, but I have learned to anticipate your play. Check again and
mate, I think."
The doctor examined the new situation. "No," he decided, "no not quite." He retreated from the
square under attack. "Not checkmate stalemate at the worst. Yes, another stalemate."
He was upset by the doctor's visit. He couldn't be wrong, basically, yet the doctor had certainly
pointed out logical holes in his position. From a logical standpoint the whole world might be a fraud
perpetrated on everybody. But logic meant nothing logic itself was a fraud, starting with unproved
assumptions and capable of proving anything. The world is what it is!and carries its own evidence of
trickery.
But does it? What did he have to go on? Could he lay down a line between known facts and
everything else and then make a reasonable interpretation of the world, based on facts alone an
interpretation free from complexities of logic and no hidden assumptions of points not certain. Very well
First fact, himself.He knew himself directly. He existed.
Second facts, the evidence of his "five senses," everything that he himself saw and heard and smelled
and tasted with his physical senses.Subject to their limitations, he must believe his senses. Without them
he was entirely solitary, shut up in a locker of bone, blind, deaf, cut off, the only being in the world.
And that was not the case. He knew that he did not invent the information brought to him by his
senses. There had to be something else out there, some otherness that produced the things his senses
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