THE Adventurer

 BY C. M. KORNBLUTH

 ILLUSTRATED BY FREAS

 For every evil under the sun, there's an answer. It may be a simple, direct answer; it may be one that takes years, and seems unrelated to the problem. But there's an answer--of a kind. .. . 

President Folsom XXIV said petulantly to his Secretary of the Treasury:"Blow me to hell, Bannister, if I understood a single word of that. _Why_ can't I buy the Nicolaides Collection? And don't start with therediscount and the Series W business again. Just tell me _why_. "

The Secretary of the Treasury said with an air of apprehension and athread-like feeling across his throat: "It boils down to--no money, Mr. President. "

The President was too engrossed in thoughts of the marvelous collectionto fly into a rage. "It's _such_ a bargain, " he said mournfully. "Anarchaic Henry Moore figure--really too big to finger, but I'm noculture-snob, thank God--and fifteen early Morrisons and I can't beginto tell you what else. " He looked hopefully at the Secretary of PublicOpinion: "Mightn't I seize it for the public good or something?"

The Secretary of Public Opinion shook his head. His pose was grufflyprofessional. "Not a chance, Mr. President. We'd never get away with it. The art-lovers would scream to high Heaven. "

[Illustration]

"I suppose so. .. . _Why_ isn't there any money?" He had swiveleddangerously on the Secretary of the Treasury again. 

"Sir, purchases of the new Series W bond issue have lagged badly becausepotential buyers have been attracted to--"

"Stop it, stop it, _stop_ it! You know I can't make head or tail of thatstuff. Where's the money _going_?"

The Director of the Budget said cautiously: "Mr. President, during thebiennium just ending, the Department of Defense accounted for 78 percent of expenditures--"

The Secretary of Defense growled: "Now wait a minute, Felder! We werevoted--"

The President interrupted, raging weakly: "Oh, you rascals! My fatherwould have known what to do with you! But don't think I can't handle it. _Don't_ think you can hoodwink me. " He punched a button ferociously; hissilly face was contorted with rage and there was a certain tension onall the faces around the Cabinet table. 

Panels slid down abruptly in the walls, revealing grim-faced SecretServicemen. Each Cabinet officer was covered by at least two automaticrifles. 

"Take that--that traitor away!" the President yelled. His finger pointedat the Secretary of Defense, who slumped over the table, sobbing. TwoSecret Servicemen half-carried him from the room. 

President Folsom XXIV leaned back, thrusting out his lower lip. He toldthe Secretary of the Treasury: "_Get_ me the money for the NicolaidesCollection. Do you understand? I don't care how you do it. _Get_ it. " Heglared at the Secretary of Public Opinion. "Have you any comments?"

"No, Mr. President. "

"All right, then. " The President unbent and said plaintively: "I don'tsee why you can't all be more reasonable. I'm a very reasonable man. I don't see why I can't have a few pleasures along with myresponsibilities. Really I don't. And I'm sensitive. I don't _like_these scenes. Very well. That's all. The Cabinet meeting is adjourned. "

They rose and left silently in the order of their seniority. ThePresident noticed that the panels were still down and pushed the buttonthat raised them again and hid the granite-faced Secret Servicemen. Hetook out of his pocket a late Morrison fingering-piece and turned itover in his hand, a smile of relaxation and bliss spreading over hisface. _Such_ amusing textural contrast! _Such_ unexpected variations onthe classic sequences!

 * * * * *

The Cabinet, less the Secretary of Defense, was holding a rump meetingin an untapped corner of the White House gymnasium. 

"God, " the Secretary of State said, white-faced. "Poor old Willy!"

The professionally gruff Secretary of Public Opinion said: "We shouldmurder the bastard. I don't care what happens--"

The Director of the Budget said dryly: "We all know what would happen. President Folsom XXV would take office. No; we've got to keep pluggingas before. Nothing short of the invincible can topple the Republic. .. . "

"What about a war?" the Secretary of Commerce demanded fiercely. "We'veno proof that our program will work. What about a war?"

State said wearily: "Not while there's a balance of power, my dear man. The Io-Callisto Question proved that. The Republic and the Soviet fellall over themselves trying to patch things up as soon as it seemed thatthere would be real shooting. Folsom XXIV and his excellency PremierYersinsky know at least that much. "

The Secretary of the Treasury said: "What would you all think of Steinerfor Defense?"

The Director of the Budget was astonished. "Would he take it?"

Treasury cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I've asked him tostop by right about now. " He hurled a medicine ball into the budgetarygut. 

"Oof!" said the Director. "You bastard. Steiner would be perfect. Heruns Standards like a watch. " He treacherously fired the medicine ballat the Secretary of Raw Materials, who blandly caught it and slammed itback. 

"Here he comes, " said the Secretary of Raw Materials. "Steiner! Come andsweat some oleo off!"

Steiner ambled over, a squat man in his fifties, and said: "I don't mindif I do. Where's Willy?"

State said: "The President unmasked him as a traitor. He's probably beenexecuted by now. "

Steiner looked grim, and grimmer yet when the Secretary of the Treasurysaid, dead-pan: "We want to propose you for Defense. "

"I'm happy in Standards, " Steiner said. "Safer, too. The Man's fathertook an interest in science, but The Man never comes around. Things arevery quiet. Why don't you invite Winch, from the National ArtCommission? It wouldn't be much of a change for the worse for him. "

"No brains, " the Secretary for Raw Materials said briefly. "Heads up!"

Steiner caught the ball and slugged it back at him. "What good arebrains?" he asked quietly. 

"Close the ranks, gentlemen, " State said. "These long shots are too hardon my arms. "

The ranks closed and the Cabinet told Steiner what good were brains. Heended by accepting. 

 * * * * *

The Moon is all Republic. Mars is all Soviet. Titan is all Republic. Ganymede is all Soviet. But Io and Callisto, by the Treaty of Greenwich, are half-and-half Republic and Soviet. 

Down the main street of the principal settlement on Io runs an invisibleline. On one side of the line, the principal settlement is known as NewPittsburgh. On the other side it is known as Nizhni-Magnitogorsk. 

Into a miner's home in New Pittsburgh one day an eight-year-old boynamed Grayson staggered, bleeding from the head. His eyes were swollenalmost shut. 

His father lurched to his feet, knocking over a bottle. He lookedstupidly at the bottle, set it upright too late to save much of thealcohol, and then stared fixedly at the boy. "See what you made me do, you little bastard?" he growled, and fetched the boy a clout on hisbleeding head that sent him spinning against the wall of the hut. Theboy got up slowly and silently--there seemed to be something wrong withhis left arm--and glowered at his father. 

He said nothing. 

"Fighting again, " the father said, in a would-be fierce voice. His eyesfell under the peculiar fire in the boy's stare. "Damn fool--"

A woman came in from the kitchen. She was tall and thin. In a flat voiceshe said to the man: "Get out of here. " The man hiccupped and said:"Your brat spilled my bottle. Gimme a dollar. "

In the same flat voice: "I have to buy food. "

"_I said gimme a dollar!_" The man slapped her face--it did notchange--and wrenched a small purse from the string that suspended itaround her neck. The boy suddenly was a demon, flying at his father withfists and teeth. It lasted only a second or two. The father kicked himinto a corner where he lay, still glaring, wordless and dry-eyed. Themother had not moved; her husband's handmark was still red on her facewhen he hulked out, clutching the money bag. 

Mrs. Grayson at last crouched in the corner with the eight-year-old boy. "Little Tommy, " she said softly. "My little Tommy! Did you cross theline again?"

He was blubbering in her arms, hysterically, as she caressed him. Atlast he was able to say: "I didn't cross the line, Mom. Not this time. It was in school. They said our name was really Krasinsky. God-damnhim!" the boy shrieked. "They said his grandfather was named Krasinskyand he moved over the line and changed his name to Grayson! God-damnhim! Doing that to us!"

"Now, darling, " his mother said, caressing him. "Now, darling. " Histrembling began to ebb. She said: "Let's get out the spools, Tommy. Youmustn't fall behind in school. You owe that to me, don't you, darling?"

"Yes, Mom, " he said. He threw his spindly arms around her and kissedher. "Get out the spools. We'll show him. I mean them. "

 * * * * *

President Folsom XXIV lay on his death-bed, feeling no pain, mostlybecause his personal physician had pumped him full of morphine. Dr. Barnes sat by the bed holding the presidential wrist and waiting, occasionally nodding off and recovering with a belligerent stare aroundthe room. The four wire-service men didn't care whether he fell asleepor not; they were worriedly discussing the nature and habits of thePresident's first-born, who would shortly succeed to the highest officein the Republic. 

"A firebrand, they tell me, " the A. P. Man said unhappily. 

"Firebrands I don't mind, " the U. P. Man said. "He can send out all theinflammatory notes he wants just as long as he isn't a fiend forexercise. I'm not as young as I once was. You boys wouldn't remember the_old_ President, Folsom XXII. He used to do point-to-point hiking. Heworshipped old F. D. R. "

The I. N. S. Man said, lowering his voice: "Then he was worshipping thewrong Roosevelt. Teddy was the athlete. "

Dr. Barnes started, dropped the presidential wrist and held a mirror tothe mouth for a moment. "Gentlemen, " he said, "the President is dead. "

"O. K. , " the A. P. Man said. "Let's go, boys. I'll send in the flash. U. P. , you go cover the College of Electors. I. N. S. , get onto thePresident Elect. Trib, collect some interviews and background--"

The door opened abruptly; a colonel of infantry was standing there, breathing hard, with an automatic rifle at port. "Is he dead?" he asked. 

"Yes, " the A. P. Man said. "If you'll let me past--"

"Nobody leaves the room, " the colonel said grimly. "I represent GeneralSlocum, Acting President of the Republic. The College of Electors isacting now to ratify--"

A burst of gunfire caught the colonel in the back; he spun and fell, with a single hoarse cry. More gunfire sounded through the White House. A Secret Serviceman ducked his head through the door: "President's dead?You boys stay put. We'll have this thing cleaned up in an hour--" Hevanished. 

The doctor sputtered his alarm and the newsmen ignored him withprofessional poise. The A. P. Man asked: "Now who's Slocum? DefenseCommand?"

I. N. S. Said: "I remember him. Three stars. He headed up the TacticalAirborne Force out in Kansas four-five years ago. I think he was retiredsince then. "

A phosphorus grenade crashed through the window and exploded with aglobe of yellow flame the size of a basketball; dense clouds ofphosphorus pentoxide gushed from it and the sprinkler system switchedon, drenching the room. 

"Come on!" hacked the A. P. Man, and they scrambled from the room andslammed the door. The doctor's coat was burning in two or three places, and he was retching feebly on the corridor floor. They tore his coat offand flung it back into the room. 

The U. P. Man, swearing horribly, dug a sizzling bit of phosphorus fromthe back of his hand with a pen-knife and collapsed, sweating, when itwas out. The I. N. S. Man passed him a flask and he gurgled down half apint of liquor. "Who flang that brick?" he asked faintly. 

"Nobody, " the A. P. Man said gloomily. "That's the hell of it. None ofthis is happening. Just the way Taft the Pretender never happened in'03. Just the way the Pentagon Mutiny never happened in '67. "

"'68, " the U. P. Man said faintly. "It didn't happen in '68, not '67. "

The A. P. Man smashed a fist into the palm of his hand and swore. "_God_-damn, " he said. "Some day I'd like to--" He broke off and wasbitterly silent. 

The U. P. Man must have been a little dislocated with shock and quitedrunk to talk the way he did. "Me too, " he said. "Like to tell thestory. Maybe it was '67 not '68. I'm not sure now. Can't write it downso the details get lost and then after a while it didn't happen at all. Revolution'd be good deal. But it takes people t' make revolution. _People. _ With eyes 'n ears. 'N memories. We make things not-happen an'we make people not-see an' not-hear. .. . " He slumped back against thecorridor wall, nursing his burned hand. The others were watching him, very scared. 

Then the A. P. Man caught sight of the Secretary of Defense striding downthe corridor, flanked by Secret Servicemen. "Mr. Steiner!" he called. "What's the picture?"

Steiner stopped, breathing heavily, and said: "Slocum's barricaded inthe Oval Study. They don't want to smash in. He's about the only oneleft. There were only fifty or so. The Acting President's taken chargeat the Study. You want to come along?"

They did, and even hauled the U. P. Man after them. 

The Acting President, who would be President Folsom XXV as soon as theElectoral College got around to it, had his father's face--the petulantlip, the soft jowl--on a hard young body. He also had an auto-rifleready to fire from the hip. Most of the Cabinet was present. When theSecretary of Defense arrived, he turned on him. "Steiner, " he saidnastily, "can you explain why there should be a rebellion against theRepublic in your department?"

"Mr. President, " Steiner said, "Slocum was retired on my recommendationtwo years ago. It seems to me that my responsibility ended there andSecurity should have taken over. "

The President Elect's finger left the trigger of the auto-rifle and hislip drew in a little. "Quite so, " he said curtly, and, turned to thedoor. "Slocum!" he shouted. "Come out of there. We can use gas if wewant. "

 * * * * *

The door opened unexpectedly and a tired-looking man with three stars oneach shoulder stood there, bare-handed. "All right, " he said drearily. "I was fool enough to think something could be done about the regime. But you fat-faced imbeciles are going to go on and on and--"

The stutter of the auto-rifle cut him off. The President Elect'sknuckles were white as he clutched the piece's forearm and grip; thetorrent of slugs continued to hack and plow the general's body until themagazine was empty. "Burn that, " he said curtly, turning his back on it. "Dr. Barnes, come here. I want to know about my father's passing. "

The doctor, hoarse and red-eyed from the whiff of phosphorus smoke, spoke with him. The U. P. Man had sagged drunkenly into a chair, but theother newsmen noted that Dr. Barnes glanced at them as he spoke, in aconfidential murmur. 

"Thank you, Doctor, " the President Elect said at last, decisively. Hegestured to a Secret Serviceman. "Take those traitors away. " They went, numbly. 

The Secretary of State cleared his throat. "Mr. President, " he said, "Itake this opportunity to submit the resignations of myself and fellowCabinet members according to custom. "

"That's all right, " the President Elect said. "You may as well stay on. I intend to run things myself anyway. " He hefted the auto-rifle. "You, "he said to the Secretary of Public Opinion. "You have some work to do. Have the memory of my father's--artistic--preoccupations obliterated assoon as possible. I wish the Republic to assume a war-like posture--yes;what is it?"

A trembling messenger said: "Mr. President, I have the honor to informyou that the College of Electors has elected you President of theRepublic--unanimously. "

 * * * * *

Cadet Fourth-Classman Thomas Grayson lay on his bunk and sobbed in anagony of loneliness. The letter from his mother was crumpled in hishand: "--prouder than words can tell of your appointment to the Academy. Darling, I hardly knew my grandfather but I know that you will serve asbrilliantly as he did, to the eternal credit of the Republic. You mustbe brave and strong for my sake--"

He would have given everything he had or ever could hope to have to beback with her, and away from the bullying, sneering fellow-cadets of theCorps. He kissed the letter--and then hastily shoved it under hismattress as he heard footsteps. 

He popped to a brace, but it was only his roommate Ferguson. Fergusonwas from Earth, and rejoiced in the lighter Lunar gravity which waspunishment to Grayson's Io-bred muscles. 

"Rest, mister, " Ferguson grinned. 

"Thought it was night inspection. "

"Any minute now. They're down the hall. Lemme tighten your bunk oryou'll be in trouble--" Tightening the bunk he pulled out the letter andsaid, calvishly: "Ah-_hah_! Who is she?--" and opened it. 

When the cadet officers reached the room they found Ferguson on thefloor being strangled black in the face by spidery little Grayson. Ittook all three of them to pull him off. Ferguson went to the infirmaryand Grayson went to the Commandant's office. 

The Commandant glared at the cadet from under the most spectacular pairof eyebrows in the Service. "Cadet Grayson, " he said, "explain whatoccurred. "

"Sir, Cadet Ferguson began to read a letter from my mother without mypermission. "

"That is not accepted by the Corps as grounds for mayhem. Do you haveanything further to say?"

"Sir, I lost my temper. All I thought of was that it was an act ofdisrespect to my mother and somehow to the Corps and the Republictoo--that Cadet Ferguson was dishonoring the Corps. "

_Bushwah_, the Commandant thought. _A snow job and a crude one. _ Hestudied the youngster. He had never seen such a brace from an Io-bredfourth-classman. It must be torture to muscles not yet toughened up toeven Lunar gravity. Five minutes more and the boy would have to giveway, and serve him right for showing off. 

He studied Grayson's folder. It was too early to tell about academicwork, but the fourth-classman was a bear--or a fool--for extra duty. Hehad gone out for half a dozen teams and applied for membership in theexacting Math Club _and_ Writing Club. The Commandant glanced up;Grayson was still in his extreme brace. The Commandant suddenly had thequeer idea that Grayson could hold it until it killed him. 

"One hundred hours of pack-drill, " he barked, "to be completed beforequarter-term. Cadet Grayson, if you succeed in walking off your tours, remember that there is a tradition of fellowship in the Corps which itsmembers are expected to observe. Dismiss. "

After Grayson's steel-sharp salute and exit the Commandant dug deeperinto the folder. Apparently there was something wrong with the boy'sleft arm, but it had been passed by the examining team that visited Io. Most unusual. Most irregular. But nothing could be done about it now. 

 * * * * *

The President, softer now in body than on his election day, andinfinitely more cautious, snapped: "It's all very well to create anincident. But where's the money to come from? Who wants the rest of Ioanyway? And what will happen if there's war?"

Treasury said: "The hoarders will supply the money, Mr. President. Asystem of percentage-bounties for persons who report currency-hoarders, and then enforced purchase of a bond issue. "

Raw materials said: "We need that iron, Mr. President. We need itdesperately. "

State said: "All our evaluations indicate that the Soviet Premier wouldconsider nothing less than armed invasion of his continental borders asoccasion for all-out war. The consumer-goods party in the Soviet hasgained immensely during the past five years and of course theirarmaments have suffered. Your shrewd directive to put the Republic in awar-like posture has borne fruit, Mr. President. .. . "

President Folsom XXV studied them narrowly. To him the need for a borderincident culminating in a forced purchase of Soviet Io did not seem aspressing as they thought, but they were, after all, specialists. Andthere was no conceivable way they could benefit from it personally. Theonly alternative was that they were offering their professional adviceand that it would be best to heed it. Still, there was a vague, naggingsomething. .. . 

Nonsense, he decided. The spy dossiers on his Cabinet showed nothing butthe usual. One had been blackmailed by an actress after an affair andrailroaded her off the Earth. Another had a habit of taking bribes toadvance favorite sons in civil and military service. And so on. TheRepublic could not suffer at their hands; the Republic and the dynastywere impregnable. You simply spied on everybody--including thespies--and ordered summary executions often enough to show that youmeant it, and kept the public ignorant: deaf-dumb-blind ignorant. Thespy system was simplicity itself; you had only to let things get astangled and confused as possible until _nobody_ knew who was who. Theexecutions were literally no problem, for guilt or innocence made nomatter. And mind-control when there were four newspapers, six magazinesand three radio and television stations was a job for a handful ofclerks. 

No; the Cabinet couldn't be getting away with anything. The system wasunbeatable. 

President Folsom XXV said: "Very well. Have it done. "

 * * * * *

Mrs. Grayson, widow, of New Pittsburgh, Io, disappeared one night. Itwas in all the papers and on all the broadcasts. Some time later she wasfound dragging herself back across the line between Nizhni-Magnitogorskand New Pittsburgh in sorry shape. She had a terrible tale to tellabout what she had suffered at the hands and so forth of theNizhni-Magnitogorskniks. A diplomatic note from the Republic to theSoviet was answered by another note which was answered by the dispatchof the Republic's First Fleet to Io which was answered by the dispatchof the Soviet's First and Fifth Fleets to Io. 

The Republic's First Fleet blew up the customary deserted target hulk, fulminated over a sneak sabotage attack and moved in its destroyers. Battle was joined. 

Ensign Thomas Grayson took over the command of his destroyer when itscaptain was killed on his bridge. An electrified crew saw the strange, brooding youngster perform prodigies of skill and courage, and respondedto them. In one week of desultory action the battered destroyer hadaccounted for seven Soviet destroyers and a cruiser. 

As soon as this penetrated to the flagship, Grayson was decorated andgiven a flotilla. His weird magnetism extended to every officer and manaboard the seven craft. They struck like phantoms, cutting out cruisersand battlewagons in wild unorthodox actions that couldn't have succeededbut did--every time. Grayson was badly wounded twice, but his drivingnervous energy carried him through. 

He was decorated again and given the battlewagon of an ailingfour-striper. 

Without orders he touched down on the Soviet side of Io, led out alanding party of marines and bluejackets, cut through two regiments ofSoviet infantry, and returned to his battlewagon with prisoners: the topcivil and military administrators of Soviet Io. 

They discussed him nervously aboard the flagship. 

"He has a mystical quality, Admiral. His men would follow him into anatomic furnace. And--and I almost believe he could bring them throughsafely if he wanted to. " The laugh was nervous. 

"He doesn't look like much. But when he turns on the charm--watch out!"

"He's--he's a _winner_. Now I wonder what I mean by that?"

"I know what you mean. They turn up every so often. People who can't bestopped. People who have everything. Napoleons. Alexanders. Stalins. Upfrom nowhere. "

"Suleiman. Hitler. Folsom I. Jenghis Khan. "

"Well, let's get it over with. "

They tugged at their gold-braided jackets and signalled the honor guard. 

Grayson was piped aboard, received another decoration and anotherspeech. This time he made a speech in return. 

 * * * * *

President Folsom XXV, not knowing what else to do, had summoned hiscabinet. "Well?" he rasped at the Secretary of Defense. 

Steiner said with a faint shrug: "Mr. President, there is nothing to bedone. He has the fleet, he has the broadcasting facilities, he has thepeople. "

"People!" snarled the President. His finger stabbed at a button and thewall panels snapped down to show the Secret Servicemen standing in theirniches. The finger shot tremulously out at Steiner. "Kill that traitor!"he raved. 

The chief of the detail said uneasily: "Mr. President, we were listeningto Grayson before we came on duty. He says he's de facto Presidentnow--"

"Kill him! Kill him!"

The chief went doggedly on: "--and we liked what he had to say about theRepublic and he said citizens of the Republic shouldn't take orders fromyou and he'd relieve you--"

The President fell back. 

Grayson walked in, wearing his plain ensign's uniform and smilingfaintly. Admirals and four-stripers flanked him. 

The chief of the detail said: "Mr. Grayson! Are you taking over?"

The man in the ensign's uniform said gravely: "Yes. And just call me'Grayson, ' please. The titles come later. You can go now. "

The chief gave a pleased grin and collected his detail. The ratherslight, youngish man who had something wrong with one arm was incharge--_complete_ charge. 

Grayson said: "Mr. Folsom, you are relieved of the presidency. Captain, take him out and--" He finished with a whimsical shrug. A portlyfour-striper took Folsom by one arm. Like a drugged man the deposedpresident let himself be led out. 

Grayson looked around the table. "Who are you gentlemen?"

They felt his magnetism, like the hum when you pass a power station. 

Steiner was the spokesman. "Grayson, " he said soberly, "We were Folsom'sCabinet. However, there is more that we have to tell you. Alone, if youwill allow it. "

"Very well, gentlemen. " Admirals and captains backed out, lookingconcerned. 

 * * * * *

Steiner said: "Grayson, the story goes back many years. My predecessor, William Malvern, determined to overthrow the regime, holding that it wasan affront to the human spirit. There have been many such attempts. All have broken up on the rocks of espionage, terrorism andopinion-control--the three weapons which the regime holds firmly in itshands. 

"Malvern tried another approach than espionage versus espionage, terrorism versus terrorism and opinion-control versus opinion-control. He determined to use the basic fact that certain men make history: thatthere are men born to be mould-breakers. They are the Phillips ofMacedon, the Napoleons, Stalins and Hitlers, the Suleimans--theadventurers. Again and again they flash across history, bringing down anancient empire, turning ordinary soldiers of the line into unkillabledemons of battle, uprooting cultures, breathing new life into moribundpeoples. 

"There are common denominators among all the adventurers. Intelligence, of course. Other things are more mysterious but are always present. Theyare foreigners. Napoleon the Corsican. Hitler the Austrian. Stalin theGeorgian. Phillip the Macedonian. Always there is an Oedipus complex. Always there is physical deficiency. Napoleon's stature. Stalin'swithered arm--and yours. Always there is a minority disability, real orfancied. 

"This is a shock to you, Grayson, but you must face it. _You weremanufactured. _

"Malvern packed the cabinet with the slyest double-dealers he could findand they went to work. Eighty-six infants were planted on the outpostsof the Republic in simulated family environments. Your mother was notyour mother but one of the most brilliant actresses ever to drop out ofsight on Earth. Your intelligence-heredity was so good that we couldn'tturn you down for lack of a physical deficiency. We withered your armwith gamma radiation. I hope you will forgive us. There was no otherway. 

"Of the eighty-six you are the one that worked. Somehow the combinationfor you was minutely different from all the other combinations, genetically or environmentally, and it worked. That is all we wereafter. The mould has been broken, you know now what you are. Let comewhatever chaos is to come; the dead hand of the past no longer lieson--"

 * * * * *

Grayson went to the door and beckoned; two captains came in. Steinerbroke off his speech as Grayson said to them: "These men deny mygodhood. Take them out and--" he finished with a whimsical shrug. 

"Yes, your divinity, " said the captains, without a trace of humor intheir voices. 

Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from _Space Science Fiction_ May 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.