Homeostat. He fastened down efficiently and tightly his little homeostat that said you mustn’t see this beauty — it leads along too many strange paths to too many strange worlds. It’s an ugly thing that you must hate forevermore.
Montgomery had known what was happening even as his own vision closed, and he was helpless to do anything against it. If he had tried to oppose them, even in his private thoughts, he would have been a prey to panic. Now, with the help of the Mirror, he could watch it creeping up on him, feel it flowing through his veins — and not succumb to it. Rather, he felt a strength rising up in him for having dared look upon this hidden nightmare, and slowly the dark lapping waves receded until they were all gone.
He sat there for a long time, waiting for something more. But he knew that was all for the present. He had seen himself for what he was and he had to live with it and understand it. Obsequiously, he had knuckled under to every whim of dogma handed out, never daring to question or propose a radically different thought of his own.
He was a coward. But he could look upon that naked, unpleasant fact now without flinching because he knew that somewhere in the Mirror he would find the means of changing it.
V.
He called at the office where Don Wolfe was waiting for him, to let the counselor know he was leaving, but he didn’t feel talkative and Wolfe let him go without pressing him for conversation about what he had found.
He ignored the call which the desk clerk said had come through from Dodge. He had reported once today; that was enough. He requested that he be not disturbed by calls of any kind during the night.
It seemed impossible to sleep and he lay for a long time looking down at the rocky shore and the narrow strip of sand at the base of the jutting cliffs nearby. His mind was swarming with confused, tormenting thoughts, and yet he seemed almost able to stand aside, viewing them objectively and without panic.
He seemed to have come a far way from the Firestone Aviation Corporation and the XB-91, where all this had begun. He wondered how Soren Gunderson was making out, if the designer’s experiences were as rough as his. He didn’t see how they could be. Gunderson was successful and creative.
It seemed to Montgomery that he had almost forgotten the original purpose of his coming. But he had to remember it and evaluate it anew. Was the work of the Institute a hoax and a menace for Dodge and Spindem to bring to a halt? He thought of the Norcross demonstrations with fresh excitement. There was nothing phony about them, he was certain now. He had no positive evidence to support it. His own experience had convinced him. Years of unrecognized but ever-present tension and fear were gone. He could look upon the reality of his own failings without shrinking from the sight.