The World of Null-A by A. E. van Vogt, van Vogt Read Free Book Online

through a dimly lighted cavern. After about five minutes, the tunnel ahead grew lighter. Abruptly the cars emerged into a circular, streamlined court. They slowed and then drew up before a doorway.
    Men began to climb out of them. Gosseyn had a glimpse of the girl as she emerged from the car ahead of his. She came back and peered in at him.
    “Just to keep the record straight,” she said, “I’m Patricia Hardie.”
    “Yes,” said Gosseyn, “I’ve known since this afternoon. Somebody pointed you out to me.”
    Her eyes grew brighter. “You damned fool,” she said, “why didn’t you beat it?”
    “Because I’ve got to know. I’ve got to know about myself.”
    There must have been a tone in his voice, something of the empty feeling of a man who had lost his identity.
    “You poor idiot,” said Patricia Hardie in a softer voice.
    “Just now, when they’re nerving themselves for the plunge, they have spies in every hotel. What the lie detector said about you was reported at once. And they simply won’t take any chances.”
    She hesitated. “Your hope,” she said drably, “is that Thorson remains uninterested. My father is trying to persuade him to examine you, but so far he regards you as unimportant.”
    Once more she paused, then, “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned away. She did not look back. She walked off toward a distant door that opened before her touch. Momentarily it revealed a very bright anteroom, then the door closed. Anywhere from five to ten minutes went by. Finally, a hawk-nosed man sauntered over from another door, and looked in at Gosseyn. He said, with an unmistakable sneer, “So this is the dangerous man!”
    It seemed a futile insult. Gosseyn started to carry on with his examination of the man’s physical characteristics, and then the import of the words penetrated. He had been expecting to be asked to get out of the car. Now he settled back in his seat. The idea that he was considered a dangerous man was absolutely new. It didn’t seem to have any structural relation to the facts. Gilbert Gosseyn was a trained null-A whose brain had been damaged by an amnesic calamity. He might prove worthy of Venus in the games, but he would simply be one of thousands of similarly successful contenders. He had yet to show a single quality of structural difference between himself and other human beings.
    “Ah, silence,” drawled the big man. “The null-A pause, I suppose. Any moment now, your present predicament will have been integrated into control of your cortex, and semantically clever words will sound forth.”
    Gosseyn studied the man curiously. The sneer on the other’s lips had relaxed. His expression was less cruel, his manner not so animalistically formidable. Gosseyn said pityingly, “I can only assume that you’re a man who has failed at the games and that is why you are sneering at them. You poor fool!”
    The big man laughed. “Come along,” he said. “You’ve got some shocks coming. My name, by the by, is Thorson-Jim Thorson. I can tell you that without fear of its going any further.”
    “Thorson!” Gosseyn echoed, and then he was silent. Without another word, he followed the hawk-nosed man through an ornate door and into the palace of the Machine, where President and Patricia Hardie lived.
    He began to think of the necessity of making a determined effort to escape. But not yet. Funny, to feel that so strongly. To know that learning about himself was more important than anything else.
    There was a long marble corridor that ended in an open oak door. Thorson held the door for Gosseyn, a smile twisting his long face. Then he came in and closed the door behind him, shutting out the guards who had been following Gosseyn.
    Three people were waiting in the room, Patricia Hardie and two men. Of the latter, one was a fine-looking chap of about forty-five, who sat behind a desk. But it was the second man who snatched Gosseyn’s attention.
    He had been in an accident. He was a