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way so He could savor my tortured reaction.
Outside, the dark deepened and a myriad stars, swept into and
out of visibility by wind-tossed foliage, made the blackness seem
like a lambent field of fireflies. Crickets chirruped their doleful
accompaniment to the flickering night. In the distance, a bullfrog
rounded out the score with an occasional bass note.
The illusion of reality was oh, so complete. Even the minor
details had been meticulously provided. Up There, They had
stinted on but few of Their simulectronic props. They had
inadvertently allowed only minor, imperceptible inconsistencies.
I found myself looking into my star-spangled sky, trying to see
through the universal illusion into absolute reality. But, then, that
Real World was in no physical direction from my own. It was not
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in my universe, nor I in Its. At the same time, though, It was
everywhere around me, hidden by an electronic veil.
I tried to imagine how Phil Ashton had felt when he had climbed
up out of Fuller's simulator. My thoughts wandered up a notch to
the Higher Existence. What must it be like Up There? How vastly
different from the pseudoreality I knew?
Then I understood that it couldn't be very different at all. The
world of Phil Ashton, sustained by the currents in Fuller's
simulator, had had to be, in effect, a replica of my own if the
predictions we got from that analog creation were to have valid
application up here.
Similarly, my world would have to track that Higher Existence.
Most of the institutions would have to be the same. Our culture,
our historical background, even our heritage and destiny would
have to correspond.
And the Operator, and all the other people Up There, would have
to be human beings, just like us, since our existence could be
justified only as analogs of Them.
The darkness outside faded before a cast of intensifying
illumination that was playing against the trees. Then I heard the
swish of an air car as it followed its lights down.
I studded the door open and hurled myself outside, diving behind
a hedge and bringing my rifle up before me.
The car cushioned down, extinguished its lights and cut its
engine. Desperately, I squinted into the suddenly impenetrable
night.
It wasn't a police car. And there was only one occupant.
The door opened and the driver climbed halfway out.
I cut loose with the laserifle.
Secondary illumination from the broad crimson beam limned the
features of Jinx Fuller! And, in that same confusing moment, I
watched her slump to the ground.
Shouting her name, I hurled the rifle aside and lunged into the
clearing, boundlessly grateful that I had choked the weapon
down to only stun intensity.
Long after midnight I was still pacing in the cabin, waiting for her
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to revive. But I knew she would be unconscious for some time,
since her head had been included in the laser spraying.
Nevertheless, she would suffer but few after-effects, thanks to
the broad beam.
Innumerable times during the early morning hours I groped
through the darkness to place cold towels on her head. But it
wasn't until dawn began filtering through the curtains that she
moaned and brought a limp hand to her forehead.
She opened her eyes and smiled. "What happened?"
"I sprayed you, Jinx," I said, contritely. "I didn't mean to. I thought
you were the Con the police."
I had caught myself just in time. I couldn't complicate things
further by re-exposing her to bits of forbidden knowledge.
She tried to sit up. I supported the effort with a hand behind her
back.
"I I heard about the trouble you were in," she said. "I had to
come."
"You shouldn't have! No telling what might happen. You've got to
leave!"
Attempting to stand, she only fell back upon the couch. She
wouldn't be able to go anywhere for a while not by herself.
"No, Doug," she insisted. "I want to stay here with you. I came as
soon as I found out."
With my help she finally made it to her feet and clung to me,
crying softly against my cheek. I held her as though she might be
the only real thing in this entire illusive world. And I staggered
under an overwhelming sense of loss. All my life I had wanted
someone like Jinx. Finding her, however, had been but a hollow
accomplishment. For there was no reality save the surge of
biasing impulses in simulectronic circuits.
She backed off and stared compassionately into my face, then
came forward again. She pressed her lips against mine, fiercely.
It was almost as though she, too, knew what was going to
happen.
While I kissed her I thought wistfully of what might have been. If
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