The Back of Our Heads, Stephen Barr [good novels to read txt] 📗
- Author: Stephen Barr
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"I mean," Phil went on, "I think Katherine ought to be the one to decide whether she wants to go on seeing me."
"And I disagree."
"And I," Phil said, "shall stop seeing her when—and only when—she wants me to! I refuse to be ordered around like this. We're not doing anything wrong!"
"I think you're forgetting—"
"I'm forgetting nothing!" Phil interrupted. "You're acting as though I were having an affair with your wife, and you're trying to pull rank on me! I don't intend to be browbeaten and threatened!"
"I'm not threatening you, my dear man," Farley said, his eyebrows raised. "I ask you as a favor, that's all. I think I know my wife's—mind better than perhaps she does herself. And certainly better than an outsider can."
"And you regard me as an outsider?" Phil's voice was loud.
"You know perfectly well what I mean!" Farley replied angrily. "You are not her husband and consequently do not know—"
"I know her a damn sight better than you do, you stuffed shirt!"
Like most blond men, Farley became red very easily. At the moment, he resembled a tomato with yellow hair. "Why, you little—"
"Really!" At the sound of Katherine's voice, they both swung around. They had been making too much noise to hear her return, and she stood at the open door. "Isn't this a bit undignified?" she said. "I could hear you outside."
Farley was breathing heavily. "What brought you back, Katherine?" he asked, finally.
She walked past them to the psychiatrical sofa and sat on it without answering the question. She looked as though her mind was on something else—and then, suddenly, startled and intent.
Yes! I am here....
Neither Phil Kaufman nor Russell Farley heard her—they were intent on avoiding one another's eyes, but they would not have heard her anyway.
Q. You were right. He knows where the Unity is—if not what it is, yet.
A. Oh, he will.
Q. Are you so sure? And will you at last admit that we are right? Unification—it's the only way ... now.
A. (she has her face toward the electron microscope; her blind eyes seem to probe it) One cannot impose it on them. What kind of unity can come from imposition?
Q. And are things to go on as they are?
A. No, it's too late. Things have already changed....
Q. The history of Man has been the history of his integration—from families to tribes, to communities, to city states, to nations, to hemispheres, to—what next? Is it to stop here, and the hemispheres to beat each other down to the tribal or family level?
A. You will be destroyed in the process.
Q. We? In the process of unification?
A. Of course.
Q. And you?
A. I'm always being destroyed.
Q. Ridiculous. Unification can scarcely destroy the Unity.
A. If you unite with Disunity?
Q. The decision has been made: Absorption.
A. By whom? Of whom?
Q. The joining of the collective subconscious to the mutually antagonistic egos of all men. Freud of Vienna had this as a goal—you told us that yourself and I quote it back to you.
A. Or the reverse—men's mutually antagonistic egos in combat with the Unity?
Q. We will take that chance. Now watch—look at the world around you and you will see a dominion of universal brotherhood, the moment Unification is imposed!
A. I will look, but is that what I'll see?
Q. Now! Look!
She looked at Phil and then at her husband, who looked back at her questioningly.
"You were going to say something?" he asked.
She shook her head, and he shrugged his shoulders.
"This business I'm working on—" Phil began, and hesitated.
"Oh, yes. That reminds me," Farley said. "How's the Research Magnificent?"
"It's beginning to show signs of life," Phil said. "I think I can detect a sort of fetal pulse."
Dr. Farley blinked his pale eyelashes and nodded. He sat down at the end of the couch where Phil had been sitting and looked up at him. "Well," he said, "I just thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing. I'll never be able to understand it, though."
"I was going to say, do you think the A.E.C. might conceivably be interested?" Phil said. "After all, it is sort of vaguely connected with atomic stuff."
"I can't imagine why they would be," Farley said, and glanced at Katherine. She had gotten up and was standing at the window.
"The sun's going in," she said, "and it looks as though it may rain. I've got to get back to the house." She turned around with a smile. "How about having dinner with us tonight, Phil? We've got some people coming who'd like to meet you. Don't you think that would be nice, Russ?"
Dr. Farley didn't look as though he thought it would be nice at all, but he said nothing, and neither did Phil Kaufman.
"If you're coming, you'd better straighten your tie," Katherine said. "It's under your ear, as usual."
Phil reached up absently and pulled at it with one hand. "Sorry."
"You put me in an embarrassing position," Farley said. "I think I had better say what I have to say now. Better to have it out, before things go any further."
"Before what things go any further?" Phil asked, with a trace of belligerence. "Of course, if you don't want me for dinner—"
"Wait!" Katherine said in distress. "This isn't.... But it should be...." She looked from one to the other and smiled a tentative, hopeful little smile. "We don't have to go on with this, do we ... now?"
"What do you mean, 'now'?" Farley said, his face becoming red. "I think it's high time I got this off my chest. Katherine, I don't believe in letting things drift. I want this out in the open!"
(Oh, but this wasn't the way things were to be! This is all wrong—what can have happened?—There was no answer.)
Phil's face was pale and he started for the door. "I guess I'd better leave you two alone."
"No!" Farley said abruptly. "I want you here! I want you to hear this. Well, Katherine?" He turned to her again.
"I ... I can't answer you," she said miserably.
"You mean you are in love with him, don't you?" Farley said, with a kind of angry triumph. "All the time, behind my back, you—"
"Dry up, Farley!" Phil said, coming back from the door. "And stop acting like a bully!"
"Why, you—"
The telephone rang, and Katherine picked it up.
"It's for you, Russ," she said, and handed it to him.
"Yes?" Farley snapped into it. "Put him on." He listened for a few moments and his eyes traveled to Phil. "All right," he said. "When do you want to come?—I see. Well, I'll arrange to have him here. Three o'clock tomorrow, then. Right. Good-by." He hung up. "You were right in one respect," he said to Phil. "That was a man from the Atomic Energy Commission and he wants to have a look at what you're doing. He'll be here tomorrow and I shall expect your full cooperation. Sorry, but it can't be helped."
Phil looked at him steadily for a moment. "So that's your way of getting back at me," he said. "Academic freedom means a lot to you! Of all the cowardly, spineless, rotten—"
Farley's face was now dark red and he held up his hand. "That's enough from you!"
"What the hell does he want to come nosing around here for?" Phil said. "My research is purely theoretical—"
"You yourself suggested they might," Farley reminded him. "And don't forget Lisa Meitner's work was theoretical, and look where it led!"
"Very cute!" Phil said. "In fact, Jesuitical! What I'm objecting to is having you dump me in their laps! I know your real motive—it stands out a mile!"
Farley's neck veins became noticeable, but he kept himself in control. "You tend to overrate your position here."
"Ha!" Phil said. "You can't bear me in my position of the man your wife loves!"
Farley's control went and he rushed at Phil and grabbed him by the collar.
"Stop it!" Katherine cried. "Stop it at once! Are you going to act like a pair of apemen? I'm not in love with Phil—I like him very, very much, but it's you I love, you ox!" She pushed and pulled, and they came apart like a bread sandwich, and she got between them. "For heaven's sake!"
"I'm sorry," Farley muttered, and looked ashamed of himself. "I wasn't dumping you into their laps, Kaufman—I had no choice. If I'd objected, they'd have got just that much tougher."
"It's okay," Phil said dispiritedly. "I guess."
"Oh, forget the whole thing, you two," Katherine said. "Come on, well be late for dinner." Taking their arms, she led them out onto the campus.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Back of Our Heads, by Stephen Barr
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