The Dark Design Read Free Page B

had ever heard of.
    Of all the millions of bodies he could see, he was the only one alive. Or awake.
    The rotating Burton would be wondering why he was singled out for this unsought honor.
    The watching Burton now knew why.
    It was that Ethical whom Burton called X, the unknown quality, who had roused him. The renegade.
    Now the suspended man had touched one of the rods. And that had broken some kind of circuit, and all the bodies between the rods had started to fall, Burton among them.
    The watcher felt almost as much terror as when it had first occurred. This was a primal dream, the universal human dream of falling. Doubtless, it originated from the first man, the half-ape half-sentient, for whom the fall was a dread reality, not just a nightmare. The half-ape had leaped from one branch to another, thinking in his pride that he could span the gulf. And he had fallen because of his pride, which distorted his judgment.
    Just as Lucifer’s fall had been caused by his pride.
    Now that other Burton had grabbed a rod and was hanging on while the bodies, still turning slowly, hurtled past him, a cataract of flesh.
    Now he looked up and saw an aerial machine, a green canoe shape, sinking down through the space between nearby rods. It was wingless, propellerless, apparently buoyed up by some kind of device unknown to the science of his day.
    On its bow was a symbol: a white spiral which ended pointing to the right and from which point white threads flared.
    In the reality, two men had looked over the side of the flying machine. And then, suddenly, the falling bodies slowed in their fall, and an invisible force seized him and brought his legs up and tore him loose from the rod. He floated upward, revolving, went past and above the canoe, and stopped. One of the men pointed a pencil-sized metal object at him.
    Screaming with rage and hate and frustration, that Burton shouted, “I’ll kill! I’ll kill!”
    The threat was an empty one, as empty as the darkness that stilled his fury.
    Now, only one face looked over the edge of the machine. Though he could not see the man’s face, Burton thought it looked familiar. Whatever the features, they belonged to X.
    The Ethical chuckled.

Burton sat upright and grabbed for the throat of X.
    “For God’s sake, Dick! It’s me, Pete!”
    Burton opened his hands from around Frigate’s throat. Starlight as bright as Earth’s full moon beamed in through the open doorway and silhouetted Frigate.
    “It’s your watch, Dick.”
    “Please be less noisy,” Alice murmured.
    Burton rolled off the bed and felt the suit hanging from a peg. Though he was sweating, he shivered. The little cabin, hot from the night-long radiation of two bodies, was cooling now. The cold fog was pressing in.
    Alice said, “Brrr!” and sounds indicated she was pulling the thick towels over her. Burton caught a glimpse of her white body before it was covered. He glanced at Frigate, but the American had turned and was heading up the ladder. Whatever his faults, he was not a Peeping Tom. Not that he could really blame the fellow if he had taken a look. He was more than half in love with Alice. He had never said so, but it was obvious to Burton, to Alice, and to Loghu, Frigate’s bunkmate.
    If anybody was to blame, it was Alice. She had long ago lost her Victorian modesty. Though she would deny it, she may have, subconsciously, of course, teased Frigate with a quick flash of herself.
    Burton decided not to bring that subject up. Though he was angry at both Frigate and Alice, he’d look like a fool if he said anything about this. Alice, like most people, bathed in The River in the nude, seemingly indifferent to the passersby. Frigate had seen her hundreds of times without clothing.
    The night suit was composed of a number of thick towels held together by magnetic tabs underneath the cloth. Burton opened it and fitted the cloths to make a hooded garment around legs and body. He buckled on a belt of hornfish skin holding