Part 5 (2/2)
”Every effort of which we are capable.”
”What conclusions have you drawn from the fact that these ten creatures are identical?”
”That they are not human beings, in the strictest sense of the word,”
Brent replied gravely.
”Then what are they?”
”We believe they are androids.”
”And what the h.e.l.l is an android?” Jones snapped.
”A synthetic.” Brent smiled just slightly. ”In this case, men not born of women. All this is detailed in the confidential report that will be handed to you when you leave. The report, incidentally, is slanted in a way that obscures its vital nature, but on the basis of what has been said at this meeting, I'm sure you'll find all your answers.”
Brent paused, waiting for questions. When none came, he said, ”I guess that about covers it, gentlemen--at least, all that we have at the moment. You'll be kept informed. The meeting is adjourned.”
He glanced around. ”Oh, by the way, as you'll note in the confidential report, this project will be identified as 'Operation Blue Sky.'”
”Where did they get that one?” Jones snorted.
”I don't know. The term originated higher up. Possibly,” Brent murmured, ”because somewhere out in the blue sky lies the answer.” His manner changed and he glanced briskly around. ”Would anyone care for a cup of coffee?”
No one was interested in coffee and the group filed out.
Ten minutes later, the white-coated waiter came to pick up the things.
He crossed to the coffeepot, lifted it, and took a tiny device out of the hidden s.p.a.ce formed by the pot's legs and its bottom. This, he slipped into his pocket before picking up the tray and going out as he'd come.
3
Frank Corson got what was possibly the greatest shock of his life when he walked into Ward Five and saw William Matson lying in bed. It wasn't so much that he hadn't expected it. He had, because he was too firmly locked in reality to believe the man he saw on the Upper East Side could possibly have been the broken-legged Matson. Still, seeing Matson in bed had the effect of bringing unreality into a realm where he had to cope with it. Perhaps, during the trip back to the hospital, he'd been mystically apprised of what lay ahead and wanted subconsciously to avoid it. Perhaps his shock was a cringing away from facing a problem.
At the moment, of course, he didn't know what the problem was. There was a mystery here, but only that, and his first thought was to report it to higher authority--the business about the two hearts--and have it investigated. With this thought in mind, he walked down the corridor and reached for the k.n.o.b of the door marked _Superintendent_.
But quite suddenly he stopped, reversed himself, and went back to Ward Five. He approached Matson's bed and looked down at him. Matson, empty of expression, stared back, and again Frank Corson sensed rather than saw the emptiness behind the eyes.
”How are you feeling?”
”I feel very--well.”
”It wasn't a bad break. How would you like to leave the hospital?”
”I would like to leave the--hospital.”
Frank felt an odd, inner frustration. What in the devil was wrong with the man? He sounded like a child just learning the language. Yet there was nothing else to indicate backwardness. He looked pretty much like a self-sufficient, self-contained adult.
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