Transcriber’s Note:
This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction May 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
THE DUELING MACHINE
The trouble with great ideas is that someone is sure toexpend enormous effort and ingenuity figuring out how tolouse them up.
by BEN BOVA and MYRON R. LEWIS
ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN SCHOENHERR
Dulaq rode the slide to the upper pedestrian level, stepped off andwalked over to the railing. The city stretched out all aroundhim—broad avenues thronged with busy people, pedestrian walks,vehicle thoroughfares, aircars gliding between the gleaming, toweringbuildings.
And somewhere in this vast city was the man he must kill. The man whowould kill him, perhaps.
It all seemed so real! The noise of the streets, the odors of theperfumed trees lining the walks, even the warmth of the reddish sun onhis back as he scanned the scene before him.
It is an illusion, Dulaq reminded himself, a clever man-madehallucination. A figment of my own imagination amplified by amachine.
But it seemed so very real.
Real or not, he had to find Odal before the sun set. Find him and killhim. Those were the terms of the duel. He fingered the stubbycylinderical stat-wind in his tunic pocket. That was the weapon he hadchosen, his weapon, his own invention. And this was the environment hehad picked: his city, busy, noisy, crowded, the metropolis Dulaq hadknown and loved since childhood.
Dulaq turned and glanced at the sun. It was halfway down toward thehorizon, he judged. He had about three hours to find Odal. When hedid—kill or be killed.
Of course no one is actually hurt. That is the beauty of the machine.It allows one to settle a score, to work out aggressive feelings,without either mental or physical harm.
Dulaq shrugged. He was a roundish figure, moon-faced, slightly stoopedshoulders. He had work to do. Unpleasant work for a civilized man, butthe future of the Acquataine Cluster and the entire alliance ofneighboring star systems could well depend on the outcome of thiselectronically synthesized dream.
He turned and walked down the elevated avenue, marveling at the sharpsensation of hardness that met each footstep on the paving. Childrendashed by and rushed up to a toyshop window. Men of commerce strodealong purposefully, but without missing a chance to eye the girlssauntering by.
I must have a marvelous imagination, Dulaq thought smiling tohimself.
Then he thought of Odal, the blond, icy professional he was pittedagainst. Odal was an expert at all the weapons, a man of strength andcool precision, an emotionless tool in the hands of a ruthlesspolitician. But how expert could he be with a stat-wand, when thefirst time he saw one was the moment before the duel began? And howwell acquainted could he be with the metropolis, when he had spentmost of his life in the military camps on the dreary planets of Kerak,sixty light-years from Acquatainia?
No, Odal would be lost and helpless in this situation. He wouldattempt to hide among the throngs of people. All Dulaq