_Basil Wells, who lives in Pennsylvania, writes that he has been doing research concerning the keelboat age prior to and following the War of 1812 on the "locally famous section of portage-keelboat-rafting stream from Waterford down to Pittsburgh, " turning from this to this grimmer future. _ second sight _by BASIL WELLS_ Then his hand caught an arm and he exerted his full strength. The entire arm tore away from its shoulder.... His fingers moved over the modest packet of bills the invisiblerockhound had handed to him. He smiled through the eternal night thatwas his own personal hell. Duggan's Hades. "Thanks, Pete, " he said gratefully. "Here, have a box of Conmos. " His sensitized fingers found the cigars, handed over a box, and he heardthe nervous scuff of the other's shoes. "This eight thousand means I can see again--for a while at least. Take'em! It's little enough. " "Look, Duggan. I get eight hundred for selling you the ticket on thebreakthrough time. Keep the cigars. You need the dough. " Feet pounded, thumping into swift inaudibility along the 10th Level'syielding walkway. His fingers caressed the crisp notes that his luckyguess on the 80th Level's tunnel juncture had won for him, plus the tendollars, that this meager business could ill afford, it had cost to jointhe rockhounds' pool.... But now he was free. His own man. He was released from the calculatedeconomies of his wife. Janith knew to within a few dollars what hisnewsstand on the 10th Level should make. He had never been able to savethe necessary thousand dollar deposit, and ten dollars an hour, that arented super mech cost. And she would never listen to his pleas that hemust see again--if only for an hour.... "Waste ten or twenty dollars for nothing, " she would storm. "We have allyour hospital bills to pay. I need new clothes. Your stock in the standsis too small. " What she left unspoken was the fact that she must secretly have hatedhis engineering career in the deep levels under Appalachia, and that shewas dedicated to preventing his possible return.... After three years of blindness, under his wife's firm dominance, Dugganfelt only hate for her. With this sudden fortune he could beindependent. He could divorce her. He could rent a super mech--evenreturn to work in the ever-deepening levels of Appalachia City! First of all he must see again. He closed up the news-and-cigar stand. With his cane's sensitive radarbutton pulsating beneath his fingers he hurried along the walkway towardthe nearest super mech showroom. It was less than three blocks.... * * * * * "Be sure that all the contacts are against the skull and neck, " thesalesman was saying, his voice muffled by the mentrol hood coveringDuggan's head and shoulders. "Of course. " Duggan's impatience made his voice shrill. "I've usedmentrols before when inspecting cave-ins and such. " "Very well, sir. " The man's voice was relieved. Probably he hated hisjob as much as Duggan hated his cigars and news. Duggan tripped the switches and heard the building hum of power. An oddsort of vibration that his mind told him was purely emotional, seemed tobe permeating his whole body. Abruptly the transition was complete. He was no longer lying on thepadded bench beneath the mentrol hood. He was standing erect, consciousof the retaining clamps that held him upright. He gulped a deep draught of air into the artificial lungs that did notneed oxygen and his mechanical pulse quickened. His eyes slitted open, drinking in by degrees the mirrored mentrol boothand the pallid, fat, little man sitting beside his hooded body. Hestepped out of the clamps, his sharpened senses aware of softness, andhardness, and scent, and color that human weakness so often blurs. This super mech that was linked directly with his brain by twin mentrolswas tall, chunky and gray of eye and hair. In a general way it was aduplicate of his own body, but there was no facial resemblance. "How do you like it, sir?" The fat smile was empty, almost apologetic. "We have younger, more handsome models.... " "Well enough. " Duggan started donning the clothing that he had removed. "I'll want the mech for five, possibly ten, hours. " "I'll make out the slip for ten hours, sir. We'll refund any balance dueyou. But after ten hours ... " "I know. You must report the mech missing. But with my body here youcan't lose. " The salesman smiled enigmatically. "We _have_, " he said. Duggan shrugged. He was impatient to be outside, feasting his starvedvision on the stores and parks of the various upper levels. He mighteven take a lift to the Outside. It had been fifteen years ago, whiletheir youngest son was a baby, that they had taken a weekend motor tripto the great scar that had been Manhattan. He remembered the vastnessand the rawness of the uncontrolled atmosphere. It had been beautifulbut also a bit terrifying. It was a ten years delayed honeymoon.... And now Merle was in the rocket corps and Janith and he were likestrangers. Duggan zippered shut his gray-checked jacket and left the booth. Hewalked slowly, savoring every picture of the crowded passenger stripsbeyond the walkway, and of the fairy spans of moving walkways crossingthe travel strips. The soft glow of the level's ceiling, fifty feetabove, illuminated the double rows of apartment and store fronts. It was good to see again. Every twelfth section of the level was a park. The greenery was fresherand brighter than he remembered; the tree boles and the branches weremarvels of grace and strength. He strolled along the paths, impatient tobe moving on, but aching with the emerald beauty around him.... He took the lifts to the upper levels. He rode the swiftest walkways andtravel strips, his eyes drinking in the long-hidden sights. From anobservation dome he looked out over the wooded mountain slopes ofOutside, and saw the telltale ridging of rock and earth that marked thescores of hidden vehicular tubes linking Appalachia with its sistercities of Ondack and Smoky. His five hours stretched into seven, and then, eight. Slowly adetermination to keep these eyes, at whatever cost, was building withinhim. Always before he had agreed when Janith decided. He had been sodependent on her those first terrible weeks. But now, with this moneyfrom the breakthrough pool, he could rent a super mech--live as a manshould live! * * * * * Duggan left the employment booth on the 20th Level, a badge on hisjacket and a half-grin on his full super mech's lips. On the records he was now Al Duggan, a second cousin from Montana. Heknew that nothing in the world could bring Al further east than Ozarka. Just to be safe, however, he decided to drop Al a line to explain. As far as his wife was concerned Merle Duggan was gone. Dead and buried. She could get a divorce if she wanted and marry that podgy, pink-skulledboss of hers at the advertising agency.... "Five hundred a month, " Duggan told himself. "Two-fifty for the rental, fifty for insurance--maybe fifty or so for spare parts--that leavesabout a hundred and fifty for me. " He was starting at the bottom as a rock hog, a mucker, a clean-up man inthe newly opened 80th Level. And his wages were the minimum union scale. He took the lift down to the 79th Level, flashed his new badge at theguards, and took the gritty freight lift to the lowest level of thesprawling metropolis.... "You Gaines Short?" he asked the lanky man bent over the littered deskin the rough plastic bubble that served as an office. Sharp black eyes studied him--noted the bright new olive badge, and thecreased, obviously new, coveralls. "You're the new rock hog?" "Yes, sir. Al Duggan. " "Any experience?" "Montana--mining. Had some engineering. Worked in Ozarka on tunnels. " The lank man nodded, expressionless. "You'll hog for a while. Later we'll see.... Any relation to the Dugganwe lost a couple of years back?" "We're cousins. " "Tough he couldn't see his way clear to try again. " Short's lipsthinned. "He may snap out of it yet.... We could use a few more likehim. " "I--I'll talk with him, " promised Duggan. He fought back the words that wanted to pour out. Whether it was astrange sense of loyalty to his wife, or a stubborn sort of pride, hecould not bring himself to speak ill of her. "A super mech is not so bad, Duggan. " Short flexed a skinny arm. "I'veworn this one since a rock slide crushed my back. " "Yes, sir, " Duggan agreed. Short scribbled on a form, handed it to Duggan. "Take this down to Ted Rusche, he's the short, dark fellow bossing therock hogs. He'll see you're issued your tools. " Duggan nodded and turned away. * * * * * In the super mech hostel, on the 79th Level, Duggan shared a compartmentof six sleeping and mentrol plates. All of the others were rockhounds, and three of them worked in his own clean-up gang. His immediate pusher, Ted Rusche, was a legless, dark and hairy man, much like his workingsuper mech. Waide and Myham, the first tall and once-handsome, and thelatter, bony and scarred, were both paralytics. Duggan's share of the attendants' salary amounted to another fiftydollars monthly. He was not growing too wealthy! "And how do you like it after three weeks, Al?" Rusche demanded fromwhere he balanced on the cushioned sleeping plate. Duggan stretched cramped limbs and turned his sightless face towardRusche's voice. "Seems good to be working again, Ted, " he said. "This's your last day with us, Al. Orders from Short. He's transferringyou. Office work I guess, or maybe he's making you a foreman. " Rusche's voice was curious. "He musta found out something about you, Al. S'funny but you look awfulfamiliar to me too. And you know more about tunnels than you let on. Howabout leveling with a guy?" "Not now. " Duggan was thinking of the other listening men. "After we'vecleaned-up and eaten. See you in the park outside the hostel. " "Right. " Duggan's thoughts were muddled. Fingerprints probably; at every supermech hostel all guests were printed and taped, and possibly through hissimilar name. Short must have been suspicious from the first. And if hehad come to the hostel to see Duggan's mentrol-hooded face, while Dugganworked, his identification must have been sure. Short knew that he was Merle Duggan, and before too long Janith, and allhis friends--if he had any left now--would know he had been in hidinghere. He hurried to eat and get ready for another period under the mentrol'shooded probes. Less than half an hour later he strode out of the hostel, his super mechgleaming and clean and his jacket and shorts newly pressed. He metRusche in the park and they headed for the lift to the upper level. En route to the 10th Level he explained. "I thought you looked like somebody I should know. " Rusche scrubbed athis pseudo beard's coarseness. "Accident left you sort of psychoed, huh?So you was scared of the levels? Had to try coming back with a falsename?" Duggan gulped. It made a believable sort of yarn. He hadn't taken timeto concoct a story.... Why not? "Something like that. I guess I was badly shook, Ted. " "So now you go back to being engineer at a thousand or so, and I'm stilla rock hog. " Rusche shrugged. "Less headaches anyhow. " They stepped off the lift at the 10th Level and took the high speedstrip toward the business section. Duggan had it in his mind to seeJanith and tell her she had failed--that he was his own man again. Shewould be at the office. He would tell her off, and leave. And then he'dshow Rusche some of the high spots of the low-number levels ofAppalachia. The darkness came about them swiftly. To Duggan it was like a return tothe nightmare of sightlessness. Under their feet the racing stripfaltered and stalled. They were thrown off their feet and sprawled onthe fiber-ribbed squares of the checkerboarded way's surface. "What is it?" demanded Rusche. He fought back the panic. This was not true blindness. "Criminals. They set off a few dozen 'midnight' bombs and try to robbanks or stores. We get these attacks quite often. " "Last long?" "Emergency ventilation will clear it out in a couple of minutes. And theSquads will have them in half an hour. They never get very far. " They sat close together, to wait. From the walkways and stalled stripsshrieks and frightened cries sounded. The sounds seemed to increase frombehind them. "This's my first time above the Twentieth Level, " Rusche confided. "Thirty-five years and I never saw the Outside. I don't think I like itup this high. " "It will be over in a little while, Ted. Probably just a group ofteen-agers looking for thrills. " He laughed drily. "They'll end up withblanked memories and new faces like those who tried before them. " "Listen, " muttered Rusche. In the lightlessness, and above the wailing of the terrified peopleabout them, they could hear the scuff of running feet. They were comingcloser at a swift pace. In a moment the runners would collide with them! * * * * * Duggan's years of blindness had given him the ability to judge and gaugedistance from sound. At the proper instant he pounced, his handsclamping around a body, and a second body crashed into the leader. Theywent down in a tangle. He heard Rusche shouting and fists battering and the tinkle of metal orcrystal on metal. He was fighting desperately, his super mech's strengthovertaxed. The unseen man's hands tore at his neck and shoulder, rippingaway the synthetic flesh and baring the complex framework beneath. Then his hand caught an arm and he exerted the full strength of his mechpower, until now carefully subdued. The entire arm tore away from itsshoulder. And yet the wounded man continued to attack. It was only then that he realized this must be a super mech. Thecriminals must have stolen one or two super mechs and were using them inthis robbery. He was ruthless, then. He wrenched away the other arm. He battered atthe unseen torso. The feet of the desperate mech smashed at his kneesand thighs, staggering him. Then he bore the armless torso of the mechbackward and fell upon it. The mech went limp, its mentrols blanked by the distant criminal whocontrolled it. Duggan came to his feet, listening for the sound of battle betweenRusche and his captive. It came from his right, faintly. About ten feetdistant, he judged it. And now the emergency vents were clearing thedarkness from the travel strips. Twilight faded and vision replaced it. Rusche was sitting astride a prone body, and even as Duggan reached hisside the struggling criminal's arms and legs went limp. Rusche gruntedand started to stand. "A super mech!" he said. He rubbed thoughtfully at his disarranged noseand cheeks, smoothing them again into their normal contours. "What aboutyours?" "The same. " "Here's their loot, anyhow, " Rusche said, holding up a small grayplastine bag. "Drop it, Ted. We better fade out of here before the Squads arrive, too. They might think we're--" "Not on your life, Al. We should get a reward. Pics on the newswires andtapes. " Duggan shrugged and smoothed at his own neck and face. Fourred-uniformed men, their heads hidden by ovoid gas helmets, came hissingtoward them along the travel strip. They rode single-wheeled cycles andtheir rapid-fire expoders were trained on them. "Careful now, Ted. Let me do the talking. They like to use paralysisneedles and question later. " "But--" "I've lived up here. " The unicycles braked to a halt. "Step over here, slow, " ordered one of the Squadmen. Duggan obeyed, careful to keep his arms rigid. Of course paralysisneedles would cause this mech body no damage, but why make trouble? They_had_ more destructive weapons. "Ran into us, " he said mildly. "We figured something wrong--honest menwould be standing where they were. We stopped them. " The four members of the Squad were inspecting the damage. "I guess you did, " one of them said, admiringly. "You must be supermechs too?" "That's right. I'm Duggan, Al--Merle Duggan, and this is my friend, TedRusche. We work on the 80th Level--rockhounds. " "Duggan?" The man's voice was suddenly strained. "Maybe you're not soclear as you pretend. A woman got in the way by accident, supposedly, oftheir getaway from the bank. Her name was Duggan too. " Duggan started forward, remembered the ugly expoder muzzles and backedaway. "Was her name Janith?" he demanded. "Radio report didn't say. Contact them, Joe, " he told one of the otherfaceless men. "Couldn't be you hired these two to kill her and pretend the robbery?"he inquired. "Of course not. " One of the Squad mumbled something. Duggan's interrogator dropped hisweapon's muzzle. "Woman twisted her ankle trying to get out of the way, and fell. Received a cut on her temple and is being taken to the hospital. Accidental all right. " "But her name. " "Janith. " Duggan felt a strange mingling of anger and of tenderness. The anger wasdirected toward the criminals. "Could I go to her now? Rusche can fill you in on details. " "It's not--oh, all right. Regulations aren't too strict on these levels. She your sister?" "Wife. " He turned to Rusche. "See you at the lift in about an hour, " he said and headed for theadvertising agency where Janith was employed. * * * * * "We haven't been informed as to her whereabouts yet, Mr. Duggan, " thereceptionist at Duffey's offices said coldly. Duggan glared down into the carefully pretty face, the solar-lamp tanand the knife-smoothed wrinkles. "Now see here, Blanche, " he said, and spluttered impotently. "See here yourself, Merle Duggan, " the woman spat back sharply. "Afterall! You come running back just because she's hurt. Why didn't you comeback like this a year ago?" "I was with her a year ago. " "That wasn't you. You didn't have guts enough to rent a super mech andgo back to your old job. " The woman laughed. "Janith tried to insult andneedle you into being a man again. And you just crawled. " "That's a lie, " Duggan cried. "I begged her to let me go back. Shewouldn't listen. " "That's what you say now. You don't want to remember. I know. I was hereall the time. Many a time Janith has come to the office, crying, andtold me how hopeless it seemed. " "You're--you're inventing all this, Blanche, " he accused. "I wish I were. Remember, Merle. Think. Be honest with yourself. "Blanche put her nervous, blue-veined hand on his arm. A detached part ofhis brain noted how bony and brittle her hand was. "She's loved you all these years, Merle. " The tiny hand dug into hisjacket sleeve. "To make you well again she risked losing your love--andshe lost. " Blanche must be all of fifty, perhaps fifty-five, the analytical portionof his mind noted. Old-maidish in many ways, despite her fiveex-husbands; yet so sentimental-- "It's all part of her scheme. Pretend to be the patient, long-sufferingwife and then secretly forbid me to go back to the deep levels again!You don't know!" The woman's tired eyes sparkled green. Her little fist cracked againsthis chest. She turned half away from him. "But I do know. I sat up with you many nights, while Janith got a fewhours of rest. You were like a baby, slobbering and whimpering in yoursleep. The days were worse. You were drunk and shouting and weeping. Toyou blindness was the end. " Merle gulped. He could remember nothing of the sort. Only the accidentand awakening in the hospital to darkness.... But there was a strangeblankness, a hiatus in his memories, that ended with his hated job inthe cigar stand. He could not recall his first day there or-- Could Blanche be telling the truth? "You--spiteful old hag!" he shouted at her, and rushed out of theoffices. His feet pounded at the yielding softness of the walkway. The hospitalwas less than two blocks distant--no need to take a travel strip--and heneeded the automatic motion of walking to steady his thoughts. The forgotten months. Four months, or was it five months, ago, he was inthe cigar-and-news stand. That was the day when an old acquaintance fromthe lower levels sold him the chance on the 80th Level's breakthrough. That night he had begged Janith to let him rent a super mech. And shehad scoffed at his wastefulness. Yet, now that he remembered it again, there had been a wistful note of hope in her voice. Could she have been trying to fan his faint desire for sight intosomething more powerful and consuming--so he would become again theengineering Duggan he had been? He had surrendered then, as he did many times afterward. Sullenly, yes, but he had surrendered. Perhaps she knew he was not ready for sight. When he refused to obey her, when he insisted on hiring a supermech--then, perhaps, she would know the cure was complete. But that was only theory. He remembered her clearly expressed hatred forthe mucking, lower-level life of a rockhound. Always his hatred for hergrew as she spoke of his work.... She had never expressed herself in that way before the accident. She hadgone with him on many exploratory trips into the caverns that the lowerlevels of Appalachia cut across. And she had enjoyed the experience--hewas sure of that. Remember! Think back. Back before the cigars and papers. Back to thedays and months after the accident. It hurt to think. His temples, hereon the mentrol-hooded sleeping plate, were pounding irregularly.... Huddling in a bed, knees drawn up and head tucked in, trying to gainsomehow the safety that an infant once knew. Janith's voice, soft andunderstanding, and the acid of panic that set his lips to mumblingmeaningless jargon.... Why had Janith not sent him to the medical centers for mental clearingand re-education as was done with all cases of psychoed abnormals? Theanswer was with him. She loved him as he was, Merle Duggan--not as a newpersonality in her husband's body. Artificial amnesia automatically dissolves all marriage partnerships. She had not wanted that. Instead she had three years of hell.... Striking out at emptiness, his fists contacting soft flesh, and thepained cry, swiftly suppressed, of Janith. His voice, cursing andhigh-pitched, as he fought the straps that now were restraining hissightless body. The bite of a needle and gradual dissolution offeeling.... Memory was coming reluctantly back to Duggan. This was not theself-imagined visionings of an abused helpless man. These memories weretrue. He had fought against all mental therapy and turned from those wholoved him. Now the hospital entrance was before him. He paused for a moment andthen went inside. The automatic hush of the door shutting out the mutedstreet sounds was all too familiar. "Mrs. Janith Duggan, " he told the crisply white woman at the desk. "Room 212, second floor. " "Thank you. " * * * * * He used the steps in preference to the lift. He needed more time tothink--would he ever find enough time? Undoubtedly, now, Janith's love for him was dead. His desertion of hermust have finished the dissolution of their marriage. It had beencowardly--he should have faced her and declared what he was going to doand what she could do. These past weeks, working with the rock hogs, had been invaluable. Theyhad restored something of his self-esteem. The second floor. Pastel bare walls and soft voices. The odors. 208 andopposite, 209. A wheelchair, propelled by a timidly smiling white-hairedwoman. He nodded automatically. 210. What could he say to her? That he was sorry she was hurt and thathe was such a fool? And then back to the super mech hostel and the fiveother cripples who shared the room? 212. The door ajar. A private room. He was glad of that. The headachewas more violent now--there was a bitter taste in his mouth as his supermech entered the room. She was alone, looking tiny and helpless on the high bed. To him, afterthree years, she was more beautiful than he remembered, even though thepure whiteness of her once-graying hair startled him. "Janith, " he said uncertainly. She turned her head, curiosity in her expression, and then understandingcame. There was no mistaking the warmth and welcome that came into hereyes. She held out her arms. "Duggy, " she commanded, "come here. " And he knew then, without ever being told, that his revolt and flighthad all been part of the therapy, and Janith had known all the timewhere he had been.... Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ September 1957. 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.