Anti-Man

"It became necessary to adapt my circulatory system to my newer form," He said. It was eerie talking to Him and not being able to see Him. My mind conjured up worse apparitions, I was sure, than the one He must truly have possessed at that point. "It could not support the tissue I was making. I restructured it into a triple pump with external as well as internal vessels."

I sat down on the top step because I did not trust myself to remain standing. "I see," I said, seeing nothing. I have this complex about seeming stupid. It comes from having lived with Harry Leach for so many years. He would explain something to me, something so complex that only a team of specialists could fully understand it, and then he would say, "See?" And if I said no, he sulked and slunk around looking for simpler language to put it in, inevitably putting it so simply as to embarrass both of us. He never inferred that I was not as swift as he, but the aura of his frustration made me feel somehow inadequate. It was years and years, until I was finished with interning and had gained some confidence as a full-fledged doctor working on my own, that I came to understand myself in this respect, this threatening inferiority complex. I understand it now. I still can't shake it.

He went on. "And my eyes were insufficient. I did away with those. Other systems are more efficient. A great number of organs — Jacob, in short, I am not human — not even android — any longer. Not even remotely."

Frankenstein!

Nonsense! Or was it?

For a time, we honored silence. It was the old inferiority thing again as I groped about for some understanding, some interpretation that would present my mind's eye with a coherent theory-picture. It was hard, sweaty work, even though it was totally mental. Finally, I said, "What good are you like this? Are you even mobile?"

"No. Too much tissue."

"If you're not mobile," I said, "They'll get you in a few days. Sooner or later, they'll find out we crossed them, and they'll come here and find you waiting for them like a plastic duck in a shooting gallery."

"No," He said confidently. His voice was still garbled and strange. "I can never die, Jacob."

"Invulnerability now? Are you certain it will hold up even to nuclear weapons? They'll use limited atomics, I should think, if there is no other way to get to you. They hated you that much. And they will hate you more when they see whatever it is you have come to be. And when they fully understand that you think you can give men unlimited Me spans."

It was laughter, I think, that rolled up from that cold cellar. At least, it was as close as He could come to making the sound of mirth now that He had forsaken human form. Instead of conveying good humor, however, it left me uneasy and with a nagging desire to keep looking over my shoulder. "I'm not invulnerable, Jacob. I am not, you see, the immovable object. I am the irresistible force."

"I'm afraid you've lost me," I said.

"No mind."

Silence a minute.

"Did you bring food?" He asked.

"Three wolves."

"Throw them down. I'll get them when you have gone. You'll have to do some more work for me. The beef is almost finished. I'll need more than three wolves."

"How much more?"

"As much as you can bring me, Jacob."

"I had better go hunting now while I'm a little fresh so that I can sleep later," I said.

"Jacob?"

"Yes?"

"Don't give up on me, Jacob. Keep your faith a little longer. Not much longer. One more day, Jacob. Things are moving faster than I had expected. Faster and faster all the time."

I got up and went out for the wolves. I threw them down the steps one at a time. Each landed with a sickening plop and bled on the floor. I closed the door and stood in the living room, listening. A few seconds passed, then I heard a heavy, rapid breathing sound, a wet slithering, and a short series of deep, guttural sounds of joy. Then silence. I got more shells from the gun cabinet, drank a cup of coffee, and went outside again, looking for something else to kill

VIII

Dry, bullet-like flakes of snow blew in sheets across the wintry landscape. The wind had picked up a bit and was punctuated by stiff gusts that almost rocked me off my feet. The clouds were so low that they seemed to pick up the glitter of them and reflect it yet again.