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a place to rest. Perhaps he went up the same way he had used when he had climbed it as a boy: he could
not be sure. The pain went on and on and the rock was slippery, with water or blood he could not tell.
When he finally pulled himself over the rock lip onto the ledge he could not stand, could barely move.
Pushing with his legs he slid his body through the wet filth on the ledge to the back of the shallow cave,
beside the door. He would have to find a hiding place to one side, where he could not be seen through
the concealed peephole, yet close enough to attack anyone who came. Crawling over he propped his
back against the rock.
If they did not come soon it was all over. The climb had taxed him beyond his strength and he could
barely stay conscious sitting there. Yet he must. He must be awake and alert and attack the next time the
door was opened to feed the vultures. Then he must enter, attack, win. But he was so tired. Surely no
one would come now, not until normal events were restored in the valley. Perhaps if he slept now he
would be rested when the door did open. That would surely be some hours, perhaps a day more at least.
Yet, even as he was thinking this, there was a motion of air as the entrance in the rock swung up and out.
The suddenness of the happening, the gray weight of his fatigue, were too much for him. He could only
gape as Watchman Steel appeared in the opening.
"What has happened?" she asked. "You must tell me what has happened."
"How did you find me& your screen?"
"Yes. We saw strange things happening in the valley, we heard rumors. No one seems to know the
details. You have been missing, then I heard you were somewhere in the valley. I kept searching all the
pickups, until I found you. What is happening? Tell me, please. None of us know and it is& terrible& "
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Her face was blank with fright: there is no destroyer like disorder in a world of complete order.
"Just what do you know?" he asked her as she helped him inside, to the seat in the car. After she had
closed the feeding door she took a small container from her belt and passed it to him.
"Tea," she said. "You always liked it." Then fear of the unknown possessed her again as she
remembered. "I never saw you again. You showed me the stars and told me about them, and kept
shouting that we had passed Proxima Centauri, that we had to go back. Then we returned to the place
where we had weight and you left me. I never saw you again. That has been days, many days now, and
there has been trouble. The Observer at services tells us that evil walks the corridors but will not tell us
what it is. He will not answer questions about you it is as though you never existed. There have been
alarms, strange things happening, two people have collapsed and died. Four girls are in hospital, they
cannot work and we are all on extra shifts. Nothing is right When I saw you on the screens, back in the
valley, I thought you might know. And you are hurt too!" She realized the last, gasping and shrinking
away, as the blood seeped from his side onto the seat.
"That happened days ago. I've had treatments. But I have done it no good today. Is there any kind of
medicine in your belt?"
"The first aid kit, we are required to have one." She took it out with trembling fingers and he opened it
and read the list of the contents.
"Very good." He opened his clothing and she turned away, eyes averted. "Bandages here, antiseptics,
some pain pills. All of this should help." Then, with sudden understanding, "I'll tell you when you can
look again." She bit her lip and nodded agreement, eyes shut.
"It appears your Master Observer has committed a grave error by not telling you about what has
happened." He would censor his own story, there were some things she had better not know, but he
would at least tell her the basic truth. "What I told you when we looked at the stars was true. We have
passed Proxima Centauri. I know that because I found the navigation machines which told me about it.
If you doubt it I can take you there and they will tell you too. I went to the Master Observer with my
information and he did not deny it. If we turn now we can be at Proxima Centauri within 50 years, the
goal of the Great Designer. But many years ago the Master Observer and others went against the Great
Designer. I can prove this too with the log in the Master Observer's own quarters, the evidence of the
men who decided this, and also decided to tell none of the others of you of this decision. Do you
understand what I have told you so far?"
"I think I do." She spoke in an almost inaudible voice. "But it is all so terrible. Why should they do a
thing like that? Not obeying the will of the Great Designer."
"Because they were wicked and selfish men, even if they were observers. And the observers now are no
better. They are concealing the knowledge again. They will not permit me to reveal it. They have
planned to send me away from here forever. Now will you help me to right this wrong?"
Once more the girl was far beyond her depth, floundering in concepts and responsibilities she was not
equipped to handle. In her ordered life there was only obedience, never decision. She could not force
herself to conclusions now. Perhaps the decision to run to him, to question him, had been the only act of
free will she had ever accomplished in her entire lengthened, yet stunted, lifetime.
"I don't know what to do? I don't want to do anything. I don't know & "
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"I know," he said, closing up his clothing and wiping his fingers on the cloth. He reached out and took
her chin in his hand and turned her great empty eyes to him. "The Master Observer is the one who must
decide, since that is his function in life. He will tell you whether I am right or wrong and what is to be
done. Let us go to the Master Observer."
"Yes, let us go." She almost sighed with relief with the removal of the burden of responsibility. Her
world was ordered again and the one whose appointed place in life was to decide, would decide. Already
she was forgetting the confused events of the past days: they just did not fit into her regularized
existence.
Chimal huddled low in the car so his soiled clothing would not be seen, but the effort was hardly
necessary. There were no casual walkers in the tunnels. Everyone must be manning the important
stations or was physically unable to help. This hidden world was in as much of storm of change as the
valley outside. With more change on the way, hopefully, Chimal thought as he eased himself from the
car at the tunnel entrance nearest to the Master Observer's quarters. The halls were empty.
The observer's quarters were empty too. Chimal went in, searched them, then dropped full length onto
the bed.
"Hell be back soon. The best thing we can do is to wait here for him." There was little else, physically,
that he could do at this time. The pain drugs made him sleepy and he dared not take any more of them.
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