More Than Human

Hip turned. Janie put up her hand and left a small glass cylinder, smaller than a cigarette, hanging between her lips. She said, ‘I warned you, Gerry. You know what this is. Touch him and I bite down on it – and then you can live out the rest of your life with Baby and the twins like a monkey in a cage of squirrels.’

The thought, the thought – ‘I’d like to meet Baby.’

Thompson thawed; he had been standing, absolutely motionless, staring at Janie. Now he swung his glasses around in a single bright circle. ‘You wouldn’t like him.’

‘I want to ask him a question.’

‘Nobody asks him questions but me. I suppose you expect an answer too?’

‘Yes.’

Thompson laughed. ‘Nobody gets answers these days.’

Janie said quietly, ‘This way, Hip.’

Hip turned towards her. He distinctly felt a crawling tension behind him, in the air, close to his flesh. He wondered if the Gorgon’s head had affected men that way, even the ones who did not look at her.

He followed her down to a niche in the house wall, the one which was not curved glass. In it was a crib the size of a bathtub.

He had not known that Baby was so fat. ‘Go ahead,’ said Janie. The cylinder bobbed once for each of her syllables.

‘Yes, go ahead.’ Thompson’s voice was so close behind him that he started. He had not heard the man following him at all and he felt boyish and foolish. He swallowed and said to Janie, ‘What do I do?’

‘Just think your question. He’ll probably catch it. Far as I know he receives everybody.’

Hip leaned over the crib. Eyes gleaming dully like the uppers of dusty black shoes caught and held him. He thought, Once this Gestalt had another head. It can get other telekines, teleports. Baby: Can you be replaced?

‘He says yes,’ said Janie. ‘That nasty little telepath with the corncob – remember?’

Thompson said bitterly, ‘I didn’t think you’d commit such an enormity, Janie. I could kill you for that.’

‘You know how,’ said Janie pleasantly.

Hip turned slowly to Janie. The thought came closer, or he went high and faster than it was going. It was as if his fingers actually rounded a curve, got a barest of purchases.

If Baby, the heart and core, the ego, the repository of all this new being had ever been or done or thought – if Baby could be replaced, then Homo Gestalt was immortal!

And with a rush, he had it. He had it all.

He said evenly, ‘ I asked Baby if he could be replaced; if his memory banks and computing ability could be transferred.’

‘Don’t tell him that!’ Janie screamed.

Thompson had slipped into his complete, unnatural stillness. At last he said, ‘Baby said yes. I already know that. Janie, you knew that all along, didn’t you?’

She made a sound like a gasp or a small cough.

Thompson said, ‘And you never told me. But of course, you wouldn’t. Baby can’t talk to me; the next one might. I can get the whole thing from the Lieutenant, right now. So go ahead with the dramatics. I don’t need you, Janie.’

‘Hip! Run! Run!’

Thompson’s eyes fixed on Hip’s. ‘No,’ he said mildly. ‘Don’t run.’

They were going to spin; they were going to spin like wheels, like fans, like… like…

Hip heard Janie scream and scream again and there was a crunching sound. Then the eyes were gone.

He staggered back, his hand over his eyes. There was a gabbling shriek in the room, it went on and on, split and spun around itself. He peeped through his fingers.

Thompson was reeling, his head drawn back and down almost to his shoulderblades. He kicked and elbowed backward. Holding him, her hands over his eyes, her knee in the small of his back, was Bonnie, and it was from her the gabbling came.

Hip came forward running, starting with such a furious leap that his toes barely touched the floor in the first three paces. His fist was clenched until pain ran up his forearm and in his arm and shoulders was the residual fury of seven obsessive years. His fist sank into the taut solar plexus and Thompson went down soundlessly. So did the Negro but she rolled clear and bounced lithely to her feet. She ran to him, grinning like the moon, squeezed his biceps affectionately, patted his cheek and gabbled.

‘And I thank you!’ he panted. He turned. Another dark girl, just as sinewy and just as naked, supported Janie who was sagging weakly. ‘Janie!’ he roared. ‘Bonnie, Beanie, whoever you are – did she…’

The girl holding her gabbled. Janie raised her eyes. They were deeply puzzled as she watched him come. They strayed from his face to Gerry Thompson’s still figure. And suddenly she smiled.

The girl with her, still gabbling, reached and caught his sleeve. She pointed to the floor. The cylinder lay smashed under their feet. A slight stain of moisture disappeared as he watched. ‘Did I?’ repeated Janie. ‘I never had a chance, once this butterfly landed on me.’ She sobered, stood up, came into his arms. ‘Gerry… is he…’

‘I don’t think I killed him,’ said Hip and added, ‘yet.’

‘I can’t tell you to kill him,’ Janie whispered.