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Latourette reached out sharply and touched the sleeve of his smock. “Are you going to shut the program down?”
Hawks looked at him.
Latourette was clutching his arm. “Cobey. Isn’t he ordering you to cancel it?”
“Cobey can only make requests,” Hawks said gently. “He can’t order me.”
“He’s company president, Ed! He can make your life miserable. He’s dying to get Continental Electronics off this hook.”
Hawks took Latourette’s hand away from his arm and moved it to the transmitter’s casing. He put the flats of his own palms into his back pockets, nicking up his white laboratory smock. “The Navy originally financed the transmitter’s development only because it was my idea. They wouldn’t have vouchered that kind of money for anyone else in the world. Not for a crazy idea like this.” He stared into the machine. “Even now, even though that place we found is the way it is, they still won’t let Cobey back out on his own initiative. Not as long as they think I can keep going. I don’t have to worry about Cobey.” He smiled softly and a little incredulously. “Cobey has to worry about me.”
“Well, how about you? How much longer can you keep this up?”
Hawks stepped back. He looked at Latourette thoughtfully. “Are we worrying about the project now, or are we worrying about me?”
Latourette sighed. “All right, Ed, I’m sorry,” he said. “But what’re you going to do?”
Hawks looked up and down at the matter transmitter’s towering height. In the laboratory space behind them, the technicians were now shutting off the lights in the various subsections of the control array. Darkness fell in horizontal chunks along the galleries of instruments and formed black diagonals like jackstraws being laid upon the catwalks overhead. It advanced in a proliferating body toward the solitary green bulb shining over the “NOT Powered” half of the “Powered/NOT Powered” red-and-green legend painted on the transmitter’s lintel.
“We can’t do anything about the nature of the place to which they go,” Hawks said. “And we’ve reached the limit of what we can do to improve the way we send them there. It seems to me there’s only one thing left to do. We must find a different kind of man to send. A man who won’t go insane when he feels himself die.” He looked quizzically into the machine’s interior.
“There are all sorts of people in the world,” he said. “Perhaps we can find a man who doesn’t fear Death, but loves her.”
Latourette said bitterly, “Some kind of psycho.”
“Maybe that’s what he is. But I think we need him, nevertheless.” All the other laboratory lights were out, now. “What it comes down to is that we need a man who’s attracted by what drives other men to madness. And the more so, the better. A man who’s impassioned by Death.” His eyes lost focus, and his gaze extended itself to infinity. “So now we know what I am. I’m a pimp.”
2
Continental Electronics’ Director of Perso
“They seem to do rather well,” Hawks said in a neutral voice. He was begi
Co
Hawks said carefully, “I certainly hope you can. I expect it may take some time to find a man fitting the outlined specifications. I hope you understand that, unfortunately, we don’t have much time. I—”
Co
Hawks’ eyebrows rose. “Really?”
Co
Co
“You see, Doctor—” Co
Hawks frowned slightly. “Mover?” Now his face betrayed nothing.
Co
“Being a mover isn’t safe, because you may be heading for a hole, and it isn’t comfortable because you do a lot of jostling back and forth, and what’s more, it’s up to you to get your own fish. But it’s a hell of a lot of fun.” He looked into Hawks’ eyes. “Isn’t it?”
Hawks said, “Mr. Co
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