room, out into the hall. No one was in sight, so she continued on toward the stairway.
As she was descending she recalled that she had a job to do, a job that had to be done before morning; the little Fields girl’s quarters had not been emptied, as was required by school law. A new pupil would be arriving in a day or so and would occupy the room; it was essential that someone in authority go over every inch of the room to be certain that no subversive or illicit articles belonging to the Fields girl remained to contaminate the new child. Considering the Fields girl’s background, this rule was particularly important. As she left the stairway and hurried along a corridor, Mrs. Parker felt her heart skip several beats. She might get into a good deal of trouble by being forgetful in this area . . . they might think she wanted the new child contaminated.
The door to Marion Fields’ old room was locked. How could that be? Mrs. Parker asked herself. The children weren’t permitted keys; they could not lock any doors anywhere. It had to be one of the staff. Of course she herself had a key, but she hadn’t had time to come down here since Managing Director Dill had taken custody of the child.
As she groped in her pocket for her master key, she heard a sound on the other side of the door. Someone was in the room.
“Who’s in there?” she demanded, feeling frightened. If there was an unauthorized person in the room, she would get in trouble; it was her responsibility to maintain this dorm. Bringing her key out, she took a quick breath and then put the key into the lock. Maybe it’s someone from the Unity offices checking up on me, she thought. Seeing what I let the Fields girl have in the way of possessions. The door opened and she switched on the light.
At first she saw no one. The bed, the curtains, the small desk in the corner . . . the chest of drawers!
On the chest of drawers something was perched. Something that gleamed, shiny metal, gleamed and clicked as it turned toward her. She saw into two glassy mechanical lenses, something with a tubelike body, the size of a child’s bat, shot upward and swept toward her.
She raised her arms.
Stop,
she said to herself. She did not hear her voice; all she heard was a whistling noise in her ears, a deafening blast of sound that became a squeal.
Stop!
she wanted to scream, but she could not speak. She felt as if she were rising; now she had become weightless, floating. The room drifted into darkness. It fell away from her, farther and farther. No motion, no sound . . . just a single spark of light that flickered, hesitated, and then winked out.
Oh dear, she thought. I’m going to get into trouble. Even her thoughts seemed to drift away; she could not maintain them. I’ve done something wrong. This will cost me my job.
She drifted on and on.
CHAPTER SIX
The buzzing of his bedside vidscreen woke Jason Dill from his deep, tranquilizer-induced sleep. Reaching, he reflexively snapped the line open, noticing as he did so that the call was on the private circuit. What is it now? he wondered, aware of a pervasive headache that he had been struggling with throughout hours of sleep. The time was late, he realized. At least four-thirty.
On the vidscreen an unfamiliar face appeared. He saw, briefly, a displayed identification-standard. The medical wing.
“Managing Director Dill,” he muttered. “What do you want? Better check next time with the monitor; it’s late at night here, even if it’s noon where you are.”
The medical person said, “Sir, I was advised by members of your staff to notify you at once.” He glanced at a card. “A Mrs. Agnes Parker, a schoolteacher.”
“Yes,” Dill said, nodding.
“She was found by another teacher. Her spinal column had been damaged at several points and she died at 1:30 A.M. First examination indicated that the injuries were done deliberately. There’s indication that some variety of heat plasma was induced. The spinal fluid
As she was descending she recalled that she had a job to do, a job that had to be done before morning; the little Fields girl’s quarters had not been emptied, as was required by school law. A new pupil would be arriving in a day or so and would occupy the room; it was essential that someone in authority go over every inch of the room to be certain that no subversive or illicit articles belonging to the Fields girl remained to contaminate the new child. Considering the Fields girl’s background, this rule was particularly important. As she left the stairway and hurried along a corridor, Mrs. Parker felt her heart skip several beats. She might get into a good deal of trouble by being forgetful in this area . . . they might think she wanted the new child contaminated.
The door to Marion Fields’ old room was locked. How could that be? Mrs. Parker asked herself. The children weren’t permitted keys; they could not lock any doors anywhere. It had to be one of the staff. Of course she herself had a key, but she hadn’t had time to come down here since Managing Director Dill had taken custody of the child.
As she groped in her pocket for her master key, she heard a sound on the other side of the door. Someone was in the room.
“Who’s in there?” she demanded, feeling frightened. If there was an unauthorized person in the room, she would get in trouble; it was her responsibility to maintain this dorm. Bringing her key out, she took a quick breath and then put the key into the lock. Maybe it’s someone from the Unity offices checking up on me, she thought. Seeing what I let the Fields girl have in the way of possessions. The door opened and she switched on the light.
At first she saw no one. The bed, the curtains, the small desk in the corner . . . the chest of drawers!
On the chest of drawers something was perched. Something that gleamed, shiny metal, gleamed and clicked as it turned toward her. She saw into two glassy mechanical lenses, something with a tubelike body, the size of a child’s bat, shot upward and swept toward her.
She raised her arms.
Stop,
she said to herself. She did not hear her voice; all she heard was a whistling noise in her ears, a deafening blast of sound that became a squeal.
Stop!
she wanted to scream, but she could not speak. She felt as if she were rising; now she had become weightless, floating. The room drifted into darkness. It fell away from her, farther and farther. No motion, no sound . . . just a single spark of light that flickered, hesitated, and then winked out.
Oh dear, she thought. I’m going to get into trouble. Even her thoughts seemed to drift away; she could not maintain them. I’ve done something wrong. This will cost me my job.
She drifted on and on.
CHAPTER SIX
The buzzing of his bedside vidscreen woke Jason Dill from his deep, tranquilizer-induced sleep. Reaching, he reflexively snapped the line open, noticing as he did so that the call was on the private circuit. What is it now? he wondered, aware of a pervasive headache that he had been struggling with throughout hours of sleep. The time was late, he realized. At least four-thirty.
On the vidscreen an unfamiliar face appeared. He saw, briefly, a displayed identification-standard. The medical wing.
“Managing Director Dill,” he muttered. “What do you want? Better check next time with the monitor; it’s late at night here, even if it’s noon where you are.”
The medical person said, “Sir, I was advised by members of your staff to notify you at once.” He glanced at a card. “A Mrs. Agnes Parker, a schoolteacher.”
“Yes,” Dill said, nodding.
“She was found by another teacher. Her spinal column had been damaged at several points and she died at 1:30 A.M. First examination indicated that the injuries were done deliberately. There’s indication that some variety of heat plasma was induced. The spinal fluid
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