第 五 章 · 第5章

There was nothing to do except to be as observant as he could. He

wandered through the town, just looking. He saw nothing that seemed

familiar. Negative evidence, of course, but it indicated he hadn't

lived here before.

Before what? Before he had been retrogressed. He had been brought here

from elsewhere, the same as Luise.

[Illustration]

He visited the spaceport. Again the evidence was negative; there was

not a ship the sight of which tripped his memory. It had been too much

to hope for; if he had been brought in by spaceship, it wouldn't still

be around for him to recognize.

Late in the afternoon, he headed toward the center of town. He was

riding the belt when he saw Luise coming out of a tall office

building.

* * * * *

He hopped off and let her pass, boarding it again and following her at

a distance. As soon as they were out of the business district, he

began to edge closer.

A few blocks from the Shelter she got off the belt and waited, turning

around and smiling directly at him. In the interim her attitude toward

him had changed, evidently--for the better, as far as he was

concerned. He couldn't ignore her and didn't want to. He stepped off

the belt.

"Hello," she said. "I think you were following me."

"I was. Do you mind?"

"I guess I don't." She walked along with him. "Others followed me, but

I discouraged them."

She was worth following, but it was not that which was strange. Now

she seemed composed and extraordinarily friendly, a complete reversal

from last night. Had she learned something during the day which

changed her opinion of him? He hoped she had.

She stopped at the edge of the Shelter area. "Do you live here?"

Learned something? She seemed to have forgotten.

He nodded.

"For the same reason?"

His throat tightened. He had told her all that last night. Couldn't

she remember?

"Yes," he said.

"I thought so. That's why I didn't mind your following me."

Here was the attraction factor that Borgenese had spoken of; it was

functioning again, for which he was grateful. But still, why? And why

didn't she remember last night?

They walked on until she came to her dwelling. She paused at the door.

"I have a feeling I should know who you are, but I just can't recall.

Isn't that terrible?"

It was--frightening. Her identity was apparently incompletely

established; it kept slipping backward to a time she hadn't met him.

He couldn't build anything enduring on that; each meeting with her

would begin as if nothing had happened before.

Would the same be true of him?

He looked at her. The torn dress hadn't been repaired, as he'd thought

at first; it had been replaced by the robots that came out of the wall

at night. They'd done a good job fitting her, but with her body that

was easy.

It was frightening and it wasn't. At least this time he didn't have a

handicap. He opened his mouth to tell her his name, and then closed

it. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. "I haven't decided on

a name," he said.

"It was that way with me too." She gazed at him and he could feel his

insides sloshing around. "Well, man with no name, do you want to come

in? We can have dinner together."

He entered. But dinner was late that night. He had known it would be.

* * * * *

In the morning light, he sat up and put his hand on her. She smiled in

her sleep and squirmed closer. There were compensations for being

nobody, he supposed, and this was one of them. He got up quietly and

dressed without waking her. There were a number of things he wanted to

discuss, but somehow there hadn't been time last night. He would have

to talk to her later today.

He slipped out of the house and went across the court into his own.

The screen he had ripped apart had been repaired and put back in

place. A voice chimed out as he entered: "A call came while you were

gone."

"Let's have it."

The voice descended the scale and became that of the store manager.

"The gun you brought in was sold six months ago to Dorn Starret,

resident of Ceres and proprietor of a small gallium mine there. That's

all the information on record. I trust it will be satisfactory."

Luis sat down. It was. He could trace the man or have him traced,

though the last might not be necessary.

The name meant something to him--just what he couldn't say. Dorn

Starret, owner of a gallium mine on Ceres. The mine might or might not

be of consequence; gallium was used in a number of industrial

processes, but beyond that was not particularly valuable.

He closed his eyes to concentrate. The name slid into vacant nerve

cells that were responsive; slowly a picture formed, nebulous and

incomplete at first. There was a mouth and then there were eyes, each

feature bringing others into focus, unfolding as a germ cell divides

and grows, calling into existence an entire creature. The picture was

nearly complete.

Still with eyes closed, he looked at the man he remembered. Dorn

Starret, five-eleven, one hundred and ninety, flesh that had once been

muscular and firm. Age, thirty-seven; black hair that was beginning to

recede from his forehead. The face was harder to define--strong,

though slightly hard, it was perhaps good looking. It was the eyes

which were at fault, Luis decided--glinting often--and there were

lines on the face that ought not to be there.

There was another thing that set the man apart. Not clothing; that was

conventional, though better than average. Luis stared into his memory

until he was able to see it. _Unquestionably the man was

left-handed._ The picture was too clear to permit a mistake on that

detail.

He knew the man, had seen him often. How and in what context? He

waited, but nothing else came.

Luis opened his eyes. He would recognize the man if he ever saw him.

This was the man who owned the gun, presumably had shot him with it,

and then had hidden it here in this room.

He thought about it vainly. By itself, the name couldn't take him back

through all past associations with the man, so he passed from the man

to Ceres. Here he was better equipped; re-education tapes had replaced

his former knowledge of the subject.

* * * * *

The asteroid belt was not rigidly policed; if there was a place in the

System in which legal niceties were not strictly observed, it was

there. What could he deduce from that? Nothing perhaps; there were

many people living in the belt who were engaged in legitimate work:

miners, prospectors, scientific investigators. But with rising

excitement, he realized that Dorn Starret was not one of these.

He was a criminal. The gallium mine was merely an attempt to cover

himself with respectability. How did Luis know that? He wasn't sure;

his thought processes were hidden and erratic; but he knew.

Dorn Starret was a criminal--but the information wasn't completely

satisfactory. What had caused the man to retrogress Luis and Luise

Obispo? That still had to be determined.

But it did suggest this: as a habitual criminal, the man was more than

ordinarily dangerous.

Luis sat there a while longer, but he had recalled everything that

would come out of the original stimulus. If he wanted more, he would

have to dig up other facts or make further contacts. But at least it

wasn't hopeless--even without the police, he had learned this much.

He went over the room thoroughly once more. If there was anything

hidden, he couldn't find it.

He crossed the court to Luise's dwelling. She was gone, but there was

a note on the table. He picked it up and read it:

_Dear man with no name:_

_I suppose you were here last night, though I'm so mixed up I can't be

sure; there's so little of memory or reality to base anything on. I

wanted to talk to you before I left but I guess, like me, you're out

investigating._

_There's always a danger that neither of us will like what we find. What

if I'm married to another person and the same with you? Suppose ... but

there are countless suppositions--these are the risks we take. It's

intolerable not to know who I am, especially since the knowledge is so

close. But of course you know that._

_Anyway I'll be out most of the day. I discovered a psychologist who

specializes in restoring memory; you can see the possibilities in

that. I went there yesterday and have an appointment again today. It's

nice of him, considering that I have no money, but he says I'm more or

less an experimental subject. I can't tell you when I'll be back but

it won't be late._

_Luise._

He crumpled the note in his hand. Memory expert. Her psychologist was

that--in reverse. Yesterday he had taken a day out of her life, and

that was why Luise hadn't recognized him and might not a second time.

* * * * *

He leaned against the table. After a moment, he straightened out the

note. A second reading didn't help. There it was, if he could make

sense from it.

Luise and himself, probably in that order. There was no proof, but it

seemed likely that she had been retrogressed first, since she had been

discovered first.

There was also Dorn Starret, the criminal from Ceres who had hidden

the gun in the Shelter that he, Luis, had been found in. And there was

now a fourth person: the psychologist who specialized in depriving

retrogression victims of what few memories they had left.

Luis grimaced. Here was information which, if the police would act on

it properly ... but it was no use, they wouldn't. Any solution which

came out of this would have to arise out of his own efforts.

He folded the note carefully. It would be handy to have if Luise came

back and didn't know who he was.

Meanwhile, the psychologist. Luise hadn't said who he was, but it

shouldn't be difficult to locate him. He went to the screen and dialed

the directory. There were many psychologists in it, but no name that

was familiar.

He pondered. The person who had retroed Luise and himself--what would

he do? First he would take them as far from familiar scenes as he

could. That tied in with the facts. Dorn Starret came from Ceres.

Then what? He would want to make certain that his victims did not

trace their former lives. And he would be inconspicuous in so doing.