The Seed of Evil

Suddenly the decerebrated body stumbled and fell. The brain seemed avid for the body. Before the body could rise it had caught up with it and clambered on to a leg. When the body started to walk again the brain clung to it like a leech, and began to climb.

The body lurched towards the cliff; the brain ascended painfully. Its rate of progress was impressive. It negotiated the hips, climbed up the back and reached a shoulder, momentarily perching there. Then, as if hinged somehow, the back of Wessel’s head opened, the two halves coming apart and revealing an empty cavern. Into this empty skull the brain nosed its way, like a hermit crab edging into a discarded shell or a fat grey rat disappearing down a hole, and the head closed up behind it.

The Wessel body abruptly stopped walking. A shudder passed through it. Then it stood motionless, facing the sea.

Brand and Ruiger glanced at one another.

“Christ!” Ruiger said hoarsely.

“What shall we do?”

Gingerly, continuing to glance at one another for support, they approached Wessel. Wessel’s eyes were now in place and peered from their sockets, somewhat bloodshot. He might have been taken for normal, except that he seemed very, very dazed.

Angrily Ruiger unholstered his pistol and glared towards the Chid hut. “Those alien bastards aren’t getting away with this,” he said. “They’re going to put this right.”

“Wait a minute,” said Brand, holding up his hand. He turned to Wessel. “Wessel,” he said quietly, “can you hear me?”

Wessel blinked. “Sure,” he said.

“How long have you been conscious?”

No answer.

“Can you move?”

“Sure.” Wessel turned round and took a step towards them. Ruiger stumbled back, feeling that he was in the presence of something unclean. Brand, however, stood his ground.

“Can you make it back to the ship?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Then let’s walk.”

Stepping more naturally than before, Wessel accompanied Brand. Slowly they walked towards the gleaming shape of the starship.

Ruiger glowered again at the Chid hut. Then, holstering his pistol, he followed.

Inside, they sat Wessel down in the living quarters. He sat passively, not volunteering anything, not looking at anything in particular.

Brand swallowed. “Do you remember being out of your body?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What was it like?”

Wessel answered in a dull monotone. “All right.”

“Is that all you can say about it?”

Wessel was silent.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“No.”

“You do recognise us, don’t you?”

“Sure I do.”

Brand looked worriedly at Ruiger, then tossed his head, indicating the door.

Leaving Wessel, they withdrew to the control cabin. “Well, I don’t know,” Brand said. “Perhaps he’s going to be all right.”

“All right?” Ruiger was incredulous, his face red with anger. “Christ, just look at what’s happened!”

“He’s dazed right now. But the brain has already knitted itself to the body. It’s in complete control. Did you notice?—no scar, no seam. Fantastic.”

“It’s hideous, grotesque, perverted—” Ruiger slumped. “I don’t get you. You’re actually taking it in your stride.”

“We were warned about the Chid,” Brand pointed out. “Their ways aren’t our ways. Perhaps to them this sort of thing is some little joke, without any malicious intent. And after all, Wessel is in one piece now. He’s whole, mended.”

Ruiger sighed. He seemed defeated. “If you say so. Me, I can’t even believe what I’ve seen. It’s not possible.”

“You mean you can’t accept that a brain could lead a freelance existence outside its body?”

Ruiger nodded.

“That isn’t really so very extraordinary. I’ve seen a brain kept alive in a hospital on Earth, in a glass tank.”

“Yes, but that’s in hospital conditions, with every kind of back-up. Here …”

“Here,” said Brand, smiling crookedly, “it’s done by two aliens in a straw hut, surrounded by dirt and garbage. And the brain actually crawls about.”

“That’s what gets me. Maybe it isn’t Wessel’s brain at all. Maybe the Chid are tricking us.”

“I think it’s Wessel all right. And I think we’ve got to accept the strangeness of it. The Chid don’t need a hospital or sterile conditions because they’ve solved all kinds of technical problems we haven’t. As for a brain that can move—a few simple muscles, an arrangement to keep it oxygenated—it’s probably not as hard as it sounds, once you’re crazy enough to want to do it.” He paused reflectively. “You know, I don’t think the Chid view the body as a unit the same way we do. That wood we went into—I got the idea there were brains, stomachs, digestive systems, all kinds of parts moving about on their own. It’s as if the Chid like giving bodily organs autonomy.”

“Part-animals,” Ruiger grunted. “Sick, isn’t it?”

“To us it is.”

There was a long silence between them. Finally Ruiger said: “Well, what do we do?”

“Our safest move would probably be to take off right away. But I think we ought to wait for a while to see if Wessel improves. He’s probably suffering from post-operative shock. What I’m hoping is that he wasn’t really conscious while he was out of his body. Try to imagine that.”