The Jupiter Plague

The robot poured the glass to the top, full, with a convex meniscus bulging above the rim: at least robots didn’t spill the drinks. Sam handed over a five dollar bill. “I’ll need some small change for the phone.”

“Change it is, sir, the customer is always right.”

Sam finished his drink then closed himself in the phone booth. Where was it Burke had said he had his HQ, Fort Jay, was that in the Bronx? No, of course not, it was on Governors Island, he must be tired if he couldn’t remember that. He called book information and the computer gave him the number and he dialed it. Instead of Fort Jay the local operator appeared.

“I’m sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is a restricted military one. Do you have a priority?”

“No, this is a personal call. Isn’t there any way I can call without a priority?”

“Yes, I can connect you to police headquarters on Centre Street, you can explain to them…”

“No, thank you — it’s not that important.” He disconnected at once, then realized that he was sweating. Either the Fort Jay numbers had been on priority for a while — or someone had thought fast and moved even faster. It didn’t matter which because the result was the same; it meant it wasn’t going to be easy to get in touch with the general. Time was ticking away steadily — and Nita’s life was running out.

There was another possibility — the call might have been traced and the police could be on their way here now. Sam hurried out in the driving rain and turned west on Thirty-fourth Street; there were other people in the street now, not many, but enough to give him some concealment. How did he contact Burke? By going to Governors Island, there was no other way. The tunnel was sure to be guarded but he would worry about that after he reached the Battery, where the tunnel entrance was. Getting there was the immediate problem. It was about three miles and he could walk it easily enough, but a lone pedestrian was sure to be spotted and stopped by the police. There were no cabs, and the subways were now running only one automated train an hour. Steal a car? He didn’t know how to go about it. When he reached Lexington Avenue he stopped under the monorail as he noticed a flicker of motion from uptown — a train was coming! Then he was running for the station escalator and pelting up the steps as fast as he could. If he caught this train before anyone realized that he had escaped from the hospital he might stay ahead of the search!

When he ran across the station the train had stopped and the doors were already open; he jammed a token into the slot and pushed through the entrance, but he was too late — the doors were starting to close. Fully automated, without a driver or a conductor, the train was leaving as soon as the controls sensed that there was no one waiting to board.

“Wait!” he shouted angrily — and senselessly— as he ran across the platform. He would never make it in time.

There was a thin girl, the only passenger in the car, and she looked up when he called, then put her hand out between the almost-closed doors. They sprang open and before they could shut again Sam was inside.

“Thanks,” he said, out of breath, as he dropped into a seat.

“That’s all right, you’ll do the same for me someday.” She stood and went to the other end of the car and sat down there, facing away from him. People didn’t get too close these days.

The buildings swept by soundlessly outside, the rain lashed across the window. Sam opened his collar and dabbed away some of the sweat. Once he opened the black bag and looked inside, then slammed it shut without taking anything out. He was tired — but not that tired yet. If he was going to take any chemical stimulation, it would be best to wait until a time when he would really need it. The jointed silver tube of the monorail train rushed downtown.

There was a stop at Wall Street and Sam got off there, the girl watching impassively as he left. No one else emerged from the train and he was alone on the platform, looking down at the narrow and empty canyons of the streets. The business heart of New York, the financial center of North America, empty and deserted in the middle of the day. He bent his shoulders into the driving rain and walked south.