THE OUTER QUIET
BY HERBERT D. KASTLE
Fear is often Man's greatest enemy. But
when there is nothing left to lose, there is
everything to gain.... And with everything
to gain, where is the enemy?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He lay on the cot, listening to the breathing of the six men who sharedapartment 2-B with him, and the panic fluttered deep in his stomach,threatening to break upward and out in a wild scream. He fought it bytelling himself it was foolish for a man who had lived through thedestruction of New York and eight months imprisonment to feel this way.
He peered toward the window and tried to see the morning sun; not asa pale, shimmery fog but as the bright Spring yellow he knew it was.But the fog remained, no matter how many times he rubbed his eyeswith saliva-wet fingers. It was as if he were seeing everything underwater—a world of shimmery, hazy objects.
The panic rose again. The Conquerors' beam had done its work well, andhis chances of finding Adele before death found him, were now terriblysmall. The first punishment had brought only a slight blur, this onehad almost blinded him, and it was only a matter of time before hecommitted the third offense. It made no difference that ConquerorPunitive assured all trainees that the degree of blindness decreasedas the years went by. He knew that his third offense would come soonerthan any improvement in his ability to see. And the third offense waspunishable by death.
Before another rush of fear could churn his brain, the morningwhistle sounded. Shrill, commanding, it began each day of aimlesswandering—the silent stroll over pavement connecting the fivebuildings of what had once been Brooklyn's prize housing development; aconstant walk which destroyed those Americans unable to show completeobedience and turned the others into slaves.
Again the whistle shrieked, and the room filled with coughs, groans andsighs, for it was forbidden to talk. Only when one of the many ruleshad been broken and a card bearing the trainee's number was found inthe box outside the door did some American get a chance to speak. Hewould rush instantly to the small administration building near thewall's only exit and report to the squat, gray-uniformed Conquerorknown as Punitive—the only Conqueror the trainees had ever seen. Afteran explanation of the offense in too-precise English, the trainee wastold to sit on the stool facing the light tube. "I obey," he wouldcroak. In silence broken only by the hum of electric generators inthe basement, the beam of piercing white light would sear his eyes.Afterwards, the assurance about the disappearing effects of the beam;then back to the streets.
With only Punitive representing them, the Conquerors weeded outAmericans who would not or could not obey. The vaguest suggestion ofcommunication between trainees was picked up by the detector bulbs—thesee-and-hear-all devices which hung much as oversized light bulbs fromthe ceiling of every room, and stood like dead street lamps every fiftyfeet or so along the pavements.
George lay a second longer, then twisted his tall, slim body erect andsprang to his feet. As he slipped into the thick stockings, high-toppedshoes, and one-piece cover-alls with serial number stitched in largered numerals across chest and back, he began sounding deep in histhroat. This was so slight a