Astounding Science Fiction (British edition) — page 92: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

90 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION Eren Tu. “I have something in my ship that prevents it.” 7 “You will soon turn it off.” “Why?” The alien’s gravity and composure was wearing a bit thin. ‘““Because he—”’ the islander ges- tured to Ted—‘‘will soon learn some- thing.” Never had Ted had such a head- ache. And as with most extremely healthy people, the minor ailment was worrying him. With only part of his attention had he been following the bewildering conversation about him. Most of his concern was centered on the fingers of fire that were darting between his temples. He wondered if it could be a pressure-head from the underwater swim. Or maybe a nasty fungus from the ship, despite its Owner’s assurances? Through eyes that were beginning to water he made out the boy, Lute, confronting him. “My father,” he announced gravely, “‘wants us to talk.” 3 “Sure, boy.” Ted massaged the back of his neck. “I told him how it was that I saw you sitting wrong, and he said for me to have you sit better. It is part of what will happen, I can see now.” Ted was quiet, baffled, and more than a little frightened. He dimly noticed that late arrivals to the scene were hoisting up their children so that they might not miss anything. “Maybe I’m beginning to under- stand.” Eren Tu had come over. “They have been telling me you do not think correctiy. They say you operate your thoughts from the wrong place. There is an asleep area to your mind that, apparently, they can see. Does it mean anything to you?” Ted struggled: They knew of the emergency exit that could be blasted open atop the island’s highest. hill. They were expecting him to make a call to Finley with the two-way. How did that tie in with his headache, with an “asleep”’ area of his mind? “Let the boy, Lute, do what he wants,” said Eren Tu. Ted dug at his temples with his knuckles. “All right, kid, it’s your show.” “I’m sorry it aches,” said the boy. “That’s because it was asleep and we all looked at it. But it will be over in a moment.” A serious frown of concen- tration tugged at his brows. He gazed up into Ted’s eyes and began giving him certain curious instructions, the very formulation and expression of which were possible only because of the fluidity and precision of the island language. Ted was made to partially blank his mind and to let the sensation of pain settle into a particular area. When it had coalesced and steadied down, Lute gave him what amounted to the form and dimensions of his identity-extensions. A corner of his thoughts found time to rebel in admir- ation: Orthodox mind science would probably have gone on missing the simplicity that was the essence of in- dividual identity for a thousand years. Ted moved this concept of his iden- tity into the spot designated by the pain. He settled himself there and withdrew utterly from the old seat of operations. : The pain vanished. And with his smile of pleasure came an indescrib- able mixture of emotions; peace was there, but it was a thrillmg and dynamic thing, not placidity. A strength and courage such as he had never before known seemed his now, and a burning desire to use this vigor to live and to experience and to be. He was in love. With everything. “Don’t you see,” he shouted at the bewildered Eren Tu, “I’m whole, I’m well, I’m as I was probably intended to be. I’m like the islanders!” Song conniclooolkks.c© im