“That should be obvious. The Martians know that, if we cancel World Brain, we’ll have a variable, anarchistic government again. And, naturally, that means the return of the Atomic War threat. And, along with atomic power and subsequent space flight, that also means, according to the Martian’s logic, that we’ll wage an atomic war against them. And that,” concluded Berti, “is good logic.”
“All right,” said Roland. “The Martians are fighting you so you’ve got to hurry and get World Brain before the Martians finish the Underground. Right?”
“Right, Rolly,” beamed Frances.
“How can you accomplish that now, if you couldn’t before?”
Frances came very close. Roland smelled the intoxicating aroma of a very effeminate, very suggestive, scent. She bounced up beside him on the table. He was afraid to look at her for a moment. Afraid she would go away. “You see, Rolly, you’re the agent. You’re going to destroy World Brain.”
Roland tried to clarify scattered thoughts. Here in a hidden cell, he seemed so far from any reality. Alone with two people who seemed so strange—so apart from hopeless, defeated humanity. He was suddenly aware of feeling cold. Cold, yet the room was warm. Something was lacking between these two members of the Underground and himself, something vitally important. There was an isolated sensation. He noticed the utter silence. A dead, despairing silence. Abruptly he wanted to be a part of movement and noise. He wanted to get out of this small buried cube somewhere on Earth. And, if it wasn’t for Frances, he would have gotten out. Right then. But he didn’t.
She held him there. A human, conditioned scientifically, could only react as he was reacting now. He felt no irritation. That was the way the human organism functioned. He wanted to do it for Frances. He loved her, of course—that was it. He had known that when he first heard her voice, before he had opened his eyes.
He heard himself saying, “When, where and how do I start?”
“Bravo!” said Berti sardonically. “A man of virtue!”