Identity Matrix (1982) (23 page)

The trouble was, a part of me wanted nothing to do with it all. I had what I really wanted now, popularity, adulation, fun.... It didn't seem fair, somehow, to wrench me back and load the world on my shoulders.

"Three years," I said to Dory. "It doesn't seem possi-ble. All that time, such a different life."

She nodded. "Out of curiosity, why the long peroxide curls? I always thought my fluffy auburn hair was real pretty."

"It was and is," I told her. "But it's—professional.

The big body, big boob look seems to require a blond. Look at all your past sex symbols."

She sighed. "I suppose so. I'll tell you, though, that I would not have recognized you. I still can't really be-lieve it. You've changed so much.... Inside as well as out. That sultry voice, those moves. I can hardly wait to see you eat a banana. They said you were a high class prostitute. Was that true?"

I nodded. "It's not nearly as bad as it sounds. Lately I'd moved up into stripping. I was going to headline a new club in Vegas. Dory, this may sound funny, but I
like
my new self. If
—when—
we get out of this, I'll go back to it.

Still, speaking of changes—you're a small package of dynamite yourself. You really grew up with the right stuff—again. But you seem a little more thoughtful, more reflective, more comfortable with yourself."

"Maybe some of this did us a favor. The blend of new and old made us new people, but whole ones."

Whole people. I liked that idea. Victor Gonser had never been a whole person; he was all act, introspection, aloof from the humanity he craved to join, but could not. Vicki Gonser, too, had been trapped in a nasty transsexual web, out of place and time. Misty Carpen-ter, the original, had been shallow, dumb, totally self-centered and egotistical, a hollow person, somehow. Parch's idea of what women should be—beautiful, sexy, seductive, submissive, and without a brain in their heads.

Dory, too, had been trapped in her old body, cut off from the society she wanted to be a part of even more cruelly than Victor had been; sexy, attractive, bright, and lesbian, not confident of herself, her future, her place in society, facing a new kind of life she didn't really want but couldn't avoid. I looked at her now with a great deal of affection, and felt a few unbidden tears rise inside me.

Whole people.

I suddenly reached out, grabbed her, hugged and kissed her once more, and cried softly.

Victor wouldn't have done that, and the old Misty wouldn't have understood why.

"I'm so very glad to see you," I whispered softly.

She hugged me and kissed me again, and I could see that there were tears in her eyes, too. "Me, too, Vicki Misty Gonser Carpenter."

I laughed and we hugged and kissed and touched and, in that moment, I think, we both did become truly whole.

The battle was for the minds, Pauley had once told me, not the shells.

Stuart came back in. "Ve have located him and talked to him," he told us, and I had no doubt who "him" was. "Ve brought him up to date. He seems quite agreeable, and particularly anxious to see the two of you. Ve told him vat happened to you both."

Jeff Overmeyer stepped into the room and I looked at him. "How will you get him out?" I asked.

"He already
is
out," Jeff replied, and I froze. There was something terribly wrong about him, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Oh,
no!
"
I almost sobbed.

"Yes, it's true," he sighed. "I'm not Jeff. We switched. But it was voluntary, I promise. He knew what he was doing."

Both Dory and I were on our feet now, staring at him. "But—why?" I looked at Stuart.

"Ve discussed it early on. Somebody had to do it. Jeff has been on the outs vith Parch for some time. He couldn't get avay and he knew it, but if he stayed he vould go under the computer. This way his mind, at least, is safe—for a vile—and no Urulu are missing. That extra time is bought a bit more, but it is bought dear, yes?"

I nodded glumly. "Dear indeed."

"Oh, come on," Pauley said, sounding relaxed and sure of himself. "My old body wasn't much older than Jeff's and is in good shape." His tone grew grimmer.

"He was a dead duck and he knew it. Better this way than no way at all." He walked over to us and looked us over. "Let me take a look at you."

Involuntarily, we both stepped back, away from his grasp. "Don't you touch me!" Dory snapped.

"Wait a minute! I'm not going to switch with you—I promise." He saw we were still hesitant. "Look, if we're going to do anything at all together we have to trust each other. If you don't trust me now then we're lost before we start."

I shivered slightly, but stood still. "All right," I said nervously.

He took my hand, then placed his other hand, fingers spread, on my forehead. I could feel nothing. Finally he nodded to himself and let go, turning to Eisenstadt. "Interesting. You have it all now, although some of the approaches are unique. Dory? May I?"

She took another step back nervously, but steeled herself finally and let him repeat the process. Finally he said, "All right. I sense the conflict within each of you, the problem of integrating two lives. Being holographic, your brain still has trouble handling both and is franti-cally re-sorting, re-filing, and trying new and different pathways. But it'll work itself out. You may find your mind playing little tricks on you but it won't matter in the long run. I think they're capable, Doctor.

Shall we get out of here?"

"Wait a minute!" Dory exclaimed. "If Jeff's so hot how do you expect to get out of here as him? And if you switch, it'll leave a real loose end."

"That is true," Stuart admitted, "but, you understand, if it vas only Jeff and myself this would never have been possible even to now. Misty, Dory, these are
good
people on the whole. Normal, decent people. Even Parch, in his own odd way, is no monster. But there
are
monsters in the chain of command—ordinary, normal fellows vith vives and kids who vorship power. It is, in some vays, like Hitler vithout Hitler—the monster cannot be pinned down, but he is there. Now ve, of IMC, have vun chance to show that ve are not just good Germans, following orders no matter vere they go. Everyvun looks for the Hitler, but it is the banality of evil that makes it so Insidious." He stepped to his door and gestured. Two technicians came on the run.

Stuart nodded to them. "These brave fellows are John Castellano and Villy Stroyer. Johnny, here, is my chief administrative aide. Both are too young to know the horrors of vich I speak first hand, yet they are vith us. They know the horror that is
here."

Castellano, a small, dark, hawk-nosed man with long black hair, spoke. "We'

re volunteers, Miss. And we have clearance to leave if we want." He turned to Pauley. "Which do you want?"

Pauley looked both surprised and impressed, both by their commitment and their casual acceptance of him. "Either of you married?" he asked.

"No sir," the other man, a bit older but still a decent-looking man with a fine-lined Nordic face and a slight paunch. "I was—once."

Pauley considered it, then turned to Eisenstadt. "Why not you, too, Doctor?

John—you've worked with him. Think you could
be
him? Until we come back, anyway, and can get you into a younger body."

Castellano looked nervous—they both did—but he sighed and said, "I think ve can pull it off, yes."

The voice was all wrong, but he had the tone, accent, and inflection down pat.

Eisenstadt stared at them and I thought I saw the tiniest glimmer of a tear in his eye. "You vould do this?"

Castellano nodded. "Doctor, I don't want to see you under that thing with Parch at the controls. I was ready to do it as Jeff Overmeyer, I'm willing to do it now."

Pauley became all business. "Lie down on the floor, then—all three of you.

Good. Now, grip each other's hands tight. Just relax—it won't hurt."

We watched, fascinated. For the first time I was going to see the Urulu exchange bodies without being a party to it.

It was very odd to watch. Pauley alone was not knocked out by the process, but Pauley kept changing from body to body, so three would be out cold and the fourth would move, then drop and another would move, and so forth. I realized he was trying to put the right people in the correct, although wrong, bodies. Suddenly it was over, and Stroyer got up fairly confidently. "We'll have to wait for them to come around," said Dan Pauley. "Partly to see if I got it right, and partly so we can see how convincing it all is."

It took seven or eight minutes for the first to come around, the Jeff Overmeyer body which was now occu-pied by the original Stroyer. He rubbed himself, groaned, sat up, shook his head, and tried to get a grip on his new self.

I could sympathize.

Castellano's body was next, with the same trouble, but with a slight difference in manner and tone.

"Whew!" gasped Stuart Eisenstadt. "Ven ve do it it's slower but not such a jolt to the central nerwous system!"

His own body was last to revive and had the most trouble adjusting. "The biggest problem, though, will be remembering that accent," Pauley warned him.

He looked pleased.

"Well, now we have left them a Dan Pauley, a Jeff Overmeyer, and a Stuart Eisenstadt, all of whom would be missed. And two technicians will leave at the end of their shift as normal, not to be missed at least until they fail to show up tomorrow morning."

Stuart nodded. "Yes. I have the codes in my head, so ve are safe there.

But—see, you vomen—give me your cards."

We were a bit puzzled, but handed over the little plastic keys he'd given us not long before.

"Let us make it look
very
right," he said conspiratori-ally, and went to his inner office where there was a computer terminal. He switched it on, began typing, then stopped and inserted one of the cards in the slot on the side. There was a rat-tat-tat noise, and the card popped out again. Now he inserted the other card and repeated the process.

Finally he handed the cards back to us, took his own—that is, Castellano'

s—card and punched in, then Stroyer /Pauley's. I looked at mine but could see no differences.

"Ve are now married," he said with some amusement. "Me to you, Misty, and Dory to, ah, Stroyer. Isn't bu-reaucracy amazing? There is now even a statement on file in the computer files of Las Vegas County to that effect."

I shook my head. "But—why?"

He grinned. "It vill register now on the computer record that ve vere met by our vives, who vere cleared to this point, and left with them a couple of hours later. When they do a cross-check by computer, they vill find ve
are
married and things vill look normal. Every little step ve cover is important." Besides, he added, giving a mock leer, "I feel so much younger and better and now the feeling it is legal."

For such an absolute security prison it was remarkably easy to just walk out as we'd walked in so long ago. The right words were spoken, the right combinations turned in the elevators, and all went smoothly. Stuart was right, I realized. The most burglar-proof safe in the world is no better than paper if someone wanting to break into it knows the combination.

"Ve'll take Castellano's car," Stuart suggested. "It is the largest." He stopped a moment. "If you have the keys, Pauley, in his pocket."

Pauley looked surprised, fumbled, came up with a small key ring, and we all sighed. Although large by today's standards it was still a small car, and while Pauley took the driver's seat and Dory the front bucket Stuart and I squeezed in the back. There was little room.

"Where to?" the Urulu asked.

"Avay. Out of here," Stuart replied. "Vunce on the vay ve vill make better plans."

He started the car, backed out, and switched on the air conditioner. I was already starting to bake, and the hatchback in the rear gave the little compressor a real workout. We drove out of the parking lot and down the base road.

"Gate coming up," Dory warned.

The sentry came out as we stopped at the gate, gave us an odd look as he saw the assemblage in the car, but after looking at all four of our cards he waved us on. In twenty more minutes we were on U.S. Route 95, headed south.

We'd done it!

Take that, Harry Parch!
I
thought smugly.

"Where are we headed for?" I asked.

"Sign back there said Las Vegas 250, which I assume means kilometers,"

Pauley replied. Not much in be-tween, either. We could use a road map."

Stuart was a little worried. "I don't like the idea of going to Las Vegas," he told us. "Too much Harry Parch there."

"Well, I could turn around and head north," Pauley suggested, "but I remember there's even less there. We're on the wrong side of the mountains and they could cut us off fast on any of those roads. I'd say Las Vegas is our best bet—we have lots of options from there."

"Most of my stuff's in storage there," I noted, "but I've got a room at the Sahara with a change of clothes. I'm not gonna get anywhere dressed like this."

Stuart frowned. "I don't like it. If anything goes wrong it'll be the first place they look."

"That's true," I agreed, "but, remember, I'm
supposed
to be there. Poor Joe—how will he take his opening big act skipping out on him?"

Stuart thought about it. "Yes, there is something in that. Tell you vat, Dan. Let'

s go into Vegas, then try to change cars if at all possible vile Misty tends to her affairs. I think you could cover her from the street and help in case things go wrong. Misty—how much money do you have?"

I laughed. "I don't have much need for it," I told him. But I've got a bunch of credit cards."

He shook his head vigorously. "No. No credit cards except maybe to check out. They can trace you easy from those cards. I mean
cash."

I thought a minute. "Misty—the old Misty—never paid much attention," I told him. "Most of it's in savings, just a little in checking."

"Hmmm ... The banks vill be closed by the time ve get there. But ve need money.
Any
idea how much you got?”