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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Now We Are Three, by Joe L. Hensley
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Now We Are Three
+
+Author: Joe L. Hensley
+
+Release Date: July 2, 2009 [EBook #29290]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOW WE ARE THREE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ _Where are we going? What will the world be like in the
+ days--perhaps not too distant--when we have tested and tested the
+ bombs to the finite degree? Joe L. Hensley, attorney in Madison,
+ Indiana, and increasingly well known in SF, returns with this
+ challenging story of that Tomorrow._
+
+
+ now
+ we
+ are
+ three
+
+ _by Joe L. Hensley_
+
+
+ It didn't matter that he had quit. He was still one of the
+ guilty. He had seen it in her eyes and in the eyes of others.
+
+
+John Rush smoothed the covers over his wife, tucking them in where her
+restless moving had pulled them away from the mattress. The twins moved
+beside him, their smooth hands following his in the task, their blind
+eyes intent on nothingness.
+
+"Thank you," he said softly to them, knowing they could not hear him.
+But it made him feel better to talk.
+
+His wife, Mary, was quiet. Her breathing was smooth, easy--almost as if
+she were sleeping.
+
+_The long sleep._
+
+He touched her forehead, but it was cool. The doctor had said it was a
+miracle she had lived this long. He stood away from the bed for a moment
+watching before he went on out to the porch. The twins moved back into
+what had become a normal position for them in the past months: One on
+each side of the bed, their thin hands holding Mary's tightly, the milky
+blind eyes surveying something that could not be seen by his eyes.
+Sometimes they would stand like this for hours.
+
+Outside the evening was cool, the light not quite gone. He sat in the
+rocking chair and waited for the doctor who had promised to come--and
+yet might not come. The bitterness came back, the self-hate. He
+remembered a young man and promises made, but not kept; a girl who had
+believed and never lost faith even when he had retreated back to the
+land away from everything. Long sullen silences, self-pity, brooding
+over the news stories that got worse and worse. And the children--one
+born dead--two born deaf and dumb and blind.
+
+_Worse than dead._
+
+You helped, he accused himself. You worked for those who set off the
+bombs and tested and tested while the cycle went up and up beyond human
+tolerance--not the death level, but the level where nothing was sure
+again, the level that made cancer a thing of epidemic proportions,
+replacing statistically all of the insane multitude of things that man
+could do to kill himself. Even the good things that the atom had brought
+were destroyed in the panic that ensued. No matter that you quit. You
+are still one of the guilty. You have seen it hidden in her eyes and you
+have seen it in the milky eyes of the twins.
+
+_Worse than dead._
+
+Dusk became night and finally the doctor came. It had begun to lightning
+and a few large drops of rain stroked Rush's cheek. Not a good year for
+the farming he had retreated to. Not a good year for anything. He stood
+to greet the doctor and the other man with him.
+
+"Good evening, doctor," he said.
+
+"Mr. Rush--" the doctor shook hands gingerly, "I hope you don't mind me
+bringing someone along--this is Mr. North. He is with the County
+Juvenile Office." The young doctor smiled. "How is the patient this
+evening?"
+
+"She is the same," John Rush said to the doctor. He turned to the other
+man, keeping his face emotionless, hands at his side. He had expected
+this for some time. "I think you will be wanting to look at the twins.
+They are by her bed." He opened the door and motioned them in and then
+followed.
+
+He heard the Juvenile man catch his breath a little. The twins were
+playing again. They had left their vigil at the bedside and they were
+moving swiftly around the small living room, their hands and arms and
+legs moving in some synchronized game that had no meaning--their
+movements quick and sure--their faces showing some intensity, some
+purpose. They moved with grace, avoiding obstructions.
+
+"I thought these children were blind," Mr. North said.
+
+John smiled a little. "It is unnerving. I have seen them play like this
+before--though they have not done so for a long time--since my wife has
+been ill." He lowered his head. "They are blind, deaf, and dumb."
+
+"How old are they?"
+
+"Twelve."
+
+"They do not seem to be more than eight--nine at the most."
+
+"They have been well fed," John said softly.
+
+"How about schooling, Mr. Rush? The teaching of handicapped children is
+not something that can be done by a person untrained in the field."
+
+"I have three degrees, Mr. North. When my wife became ill and I began to
+care for them I taught them to read braille. They picked it up very
+quickly, though they showed little continued interest in it. I read a
+number of books in the field of teaching handicapped children ..." He
+let it trail off.
+
+"Your degrees were in physics, were they not, Mr. Rush?" Now the touch
+of malice came.
+
+"That is correct." He sat down in one of the wooden chairs. "I quit
+working long before the witch hunts came. I was never indicted."
+
+"Nevertheless your degrees are no longer bona fide. All such degrees
+have been stricken from the records." He looked down and John saw that
+his eyes no longer hid the hate. "If your wife dies I doubt that any
+court would allow you to keep custody of these children."
+
+A year before--even six months and John would not have protested. Now he
+had to make the effort. "They are my children--such as they are--and I
+will fight any attempt to take them from me."
+
+The Juvenile Man smiled without humor. "My wife and I had a child last
+year, Mr. Rush. Or perhaps I should say that a child was born to us. I
+am glad that child was born dead--I think my wife is even glad. Perhaps
+we should try again--I understand that you and your kind have left us an
+even chance on a normal birth." He paused for a moment. "I shall file a
+petition with the circuit court asking that the Juvenile Office be
+appointed guardians of your children, Mr. Rush. I hope you do not choose
+to resist that petition--feeling would run pretty high against an
+ex-physicist who tried to prove he _deserved_ children." He turned away
+stiffly and went out the front door. In a little while Rush heard the
+car door slam decisively.
+
+The doctor was replacing things in the black bag. "I'm sorry, John. He
+said he was going to come out here anyway so I invited him to come with
+me."
+
+John nodded. "My wife?"
+
+"There is no change."
+
+"And no chance."
+
+"There never has been one. The brain tumor is too large and too
+inaccessible for treatment or surgery. It will be soon now. I am
+surprised that she has lasted this long. I am prolonging a sure
+process." He turned away. "That's all I can do."
+
+"Thank you for coming, doctor--I appreciate that." Rush smiled bitterly,
+unable to stop himself. "But aren't you afraid that your other patients
+will find out?"
+
+The doctor stopped, his face paling slightly. "I took an oath when I
+graduated from medical school. Sometimes I want to break that oath, but
+I have not so far." He paused. "Try as I may I cannot blame them for
+hating you. You know why."
+
+Rush wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "Don't you realize that
+the government that punished the men I worked with for their 'criminal
+negligence' is the same government that commissioned them to do that
+work--that officials were warned and rewarned of the things that small
+increases in radiation might do and that such things might not show up
+immediately--and yet they ordered us ahead?" He stopped for a moment and
+put his head down, touching his work-roughened hands to his eyes. "They
+put us in prison for refusing to do a job or investigated us until no
+one could or would trust us in civilian jobs--then when it was done they
+put us in prison or worse because the very things we warned them of came
+true."
+
+"Perhaps that is true," the doctor said stiffly, "but the choice of
+refusing was still possible."
+
+"Some of us did refuse to work," Rush said softly. "I did, for one.
+Perhaps you think that we alone will bear the blame. You are wrong.
+Sooner or later the stigma will spread to all of the sciences--and to
+you, doctor. Too many now that you can't save; in a little while the
+hate will surround you also. When we are gone and they must find
+something new to hate they will blame you for every malformed baby and
+every death. You think that one of you will find a cure for this thing.
+Perhaps you would if you had a hundred years or a thousand years, but
+you haven't. They killed a man on the street in New York the other day
+because he was wearing a white laboratory smock. What do you wear in
+your office, doctor? Hate-blind eyes can't tell the difference:
+Physicist, chemist, doctor.... We all look the same to a fool. Even if
+there were a cancer cure that is only a part of the problem. There are
+the babies. Your science cannot cope with the cause--only mine can do
+that."
+
+The doctor lowered his head and turned away toward the door.
+
+There was another thing left to say: "If the plumbing went bad in your
+home, doctor, you would call a plumber, for he would be the one
+competent to fix it." Rush shook his head slowly. "But what happens when
+there are no plumbers left?"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The children were by the bed, their hands holding those of the mother.
+Gently John Rush tugged those hands away and led them toward their own
+bed. The small hands were cold in his own and he felt a tiny feeling of
+revulsion as they tightened. Then the feeling slipped away and was
+replaced--as if a current had crossed from their hands to his. It was a
+warm feeling--one that he had known before when they touched him, but
+for which he had never been able to find mental words to express the
+sensation.
+
+Slowly he helped them undress. When they were in the single bed he
+covered them with the top sheet. Their milky eyes surveyed him,
+unseeing, somehow withdrawn.
+
+"I have not known you well," he said. "I left that to her. I have sat
+and brooded and buried myself in the earth until it is too late for much
+else." He touched the small heads. "I wish you could hear me. I wish ..."
+
+Outside on the road a truck roared past. Instinctively he set to hear
+it. The faces below him did not change.
+
+He turned away quickly then and went back out on the porch. He filled
+his pipe and sat down in the old, creaky rocker. A tiny rain had begun
+to fall hesitantly--as if afraid of striking the sun-hardened ground.
+
+_Somewhere out there, somewhere hunted, but not found, the plumbers
+gathered. There had been a man--what was his name? Masser--that was it.
+He had been working on a way to inhibit radioactivity--speed up the
+half-life until they had taken the grant away. If a man can do whatever
+he thinks of--can he undo that which he has done?_
+
+_Masser was the theoreticist--I was the applier, the one who translated
+equations into cold blueprints. And I was good until they ..._
+
+They had hounded him back to the land when he quit. Others had not been
+so lucky. When a whole people panic then an object for their hate must
+be found. A naming. An immediate object. He remembered the newspaper
+story that began: "They lynched twelve men, twelve ex-men, in New Mexico
+last night ..."
+
+_Have I been wrong? Have I done the right thing?_ He remembered the tiny
+hands in his own, the blind eyes.
+
+_Those hands. Why do they make me feel like ..._
+
+He let his head slide back against the padded top of the rocking chair
+and fell into a light, uneasy sleep.
+
+The dreams came as they had before. Tiny, inhumanly capable hands
+clutched at him and the sun was hot above. There was a background sound
+of hydrogen bombs, heard mutely. He looked down at the hands that
+touched and asked something of his own. The eyes were not milky now.
+They stared up at him, alert and questioning. _What is it you want?_
+
+The wind tore holes in tiny voices and there was the sound of laughter
+and his wife's eyes were looking into his own, sorry only for him, at
+peace with the rest. And they formed a ring around him, those three,
+hands caught together, enclosing him. _What is it you are saying?_
+
+It seemed to him that the words would come clear, but the rain came
+then, great torrents of it, washing all away, all sight and sound....
+
+ * * * * *
+
+He awoke and only the rain was true. The tiny rain had increased to a
+wind-driven downpour and he was soaked where it had blown under the
+eaves onto the porch.
+
+From inside the house he heard a cry.
+
+She was sitting upright in bed. Her eyes were open and full of pain. He
+went quickly to her and touched her pulse. It was faint and reedy.
+
+"I hurt," she whispered.
+
+Quickly, as the doctor had taught him, he made up a shot of morphine, a
+full quarter grain, and gave it to her. Her eyes glazed down, but did
+not close.
+
+"John," she said softly, "the children ... they ... talk to ..." She
+twisted on the bed and he held her with strong arms until the eyes
+closed again and her breathing became easy. He pushed the ruffled hair
+back from her eyes and straightened the awry sheets.
+
+The vibration of his walking might have wakened the twins. He tiptoed to
+_their_ bed--for they refused to be parted even in sleep.
+
+For a second he thought that the small night-light had tricked him by
+shadows on shadows. He reached down to touch ...
+
+They were gone.
+
+He fought down sudden panic. Where can two children, deaf and dumb and
+blind go in the middle of the night?
+
+Not far.
+
+He opened the door to the kitchen, hand-hunted for the hanging light.
+They were not there--nor were they on the small back porch. The panic
+passed critical mass, exploded out of control. He lurched back into the
+combination living room, bed room. He looked under all of the beds and
+into the small closet--everywhere that two children might conceal
+themselves.
+
+Outside the rain had increased. He peered out into the lightning night.
+A truck horn blew ominously far down the road.
+
+The road?
+
+He slogged through the mud, instantly soaking as soon as he was out of
+shelter, not knowing or caring. Through the front yard, out to the road.
+He could see the lights of the truck coming from far away, two tiny
+points in the darkness. But no twins.
+
+He waited helplessly while the truck rushed past, its headlights cutting
+holes in the darkness--fearing those lights would outline something that
+he had not seen. But there was nothing.
+
+For another eternity he hunted the muddy fields, the small barn and
+outbuildings. The clutch of fear made him shout their names, though he
+knew they could not hear.
+
+And then, suddenly, all fear was gone--like a summer squall near the
+sea, with the sun close behind. It was as if their hands had reached out
+and touched him and brought the strange feeling again.
+
+"They are in the house," he said aloud and knew he was right.
+
+He took time to discard muddy shoes on the porch before he opened the
+door. And they were there--by the mother's bed, hands clasped over hers.
+
+He felt a tiny chill. Their eyes were watching the door as he opened it,
+their faces set to receive some stimuli--already set--as if they had
+known he was coming.
+
+Mary was breathing softly. On her face all trace of pain had disappeared
+and now there was the tiny smile that had been hers long ago. Her
+breathing was even, but light as forgotten conversation.
+
+Gently he tried to pry their resisting hands away from hers. The hands
+fought back with a terrible strength beyond normality. By sheer greater
+force he tore one of the twins away.
+
+It was like releasing a bomb. Sudden pain stabbed through his body. The
+twin struggled in his arms, the small hands reaching blindly out for the
+thing they had lost. And Mary's eyes opened and all of the uncontrolled
+pain came, back into those eyes. Her body writhed on the bed, tearing
+the coverings away. The twin squirmed away from his slackening hold and
+once again caught at the hands of the mother.
+
+All struggle ceased. Mary's eyes shut again, the pain lines smoothed
+themselves, the tiny smile flowered.
+
+He reached out and touched the small hands on each side of the mother
+and the feeling for which there were no words came through more
+strongly than ever before. Tiny voices tried to whisper within the
+corners of his mind, partially blotted, sometimes heard. The _real_
+things, the things of hate and fear and despair retreated beyond the
+bugle call that sounded somewhere.
+
+"She will die," the voice said; one voice for two. "This part of her
+will die."
+
+And then _her_ voice came--as it had been once before when all of the
+world was young. "You must not be afraid, John. I have known for a long
+time--for they were a part of me. And you could not know for your mind
+was hiding and alone. I have seen ..."
+
+He cried out and pulled his hands away. Sound died, the room was normal
+again. The milky, white eyes surveyed him, the hands remained locked
+securely over those of the mother. The thin carven features of the
+children were emotionless, waiting.
+
+He strove for rational meaning within his brain. _These are my
+sons--they can not see or hear or speak. They are identical twins--born
+with those defects._
+
+Take two children, blind them, make them deaf to all sound, cut away
+their voices. They are identical twins, facing the same environment,
+sharing the same heredity of blasted chromosomes. They will have
+intelligence and curiosity that increases as they mature. They will not
+be blinded by the senses--the easy way. The first thing they will
+discover is each other.
+
+What else might they then discover?
+
+It has been said that when sight is lost the sense of touch and hearing
+increase to almost unbelievable acuteness--Rush knew that. The blind
+often also develop a sense almost like radar which allows them to
+perceive an object ahead of them and gives them the ability to follow
+twisting paths.
+
+Take one child and put him under the disability that the twins were born
+with. As intelligence grows so does single bewilderment. The world is a
+puzzling and bewildering place. Braille is a great discovery--a way to
+communicate with the unknown that lies beyond.
+
+But the twins had shown almost no interest in Braille.
+
+He reached back down for the tiny hands.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Yes, we can communicate," the single voice that spoke for two said. "We
+have tried with you before, but we could not break through. Your mind
+speaks in a language we do not understand, in figures and equations that
+are not real to us. Those things lie all through your mind--on the
+surface we have sensed only your pity for us and your hate for the
+shadowy ones around you, the ones we do not know. It was a wall we could
+not climb. She is different.
+
+"A part of her will go with us," the voice said. "There is another place
+that touches this one which we perceive and know more fully than this
+one."
+
+The voice died away and brief pictures of a land of other dimensions
+beyond sight flashed in his brain. He had seen them before imperfectly
+in the disquieting dreams. "She must go with us for she can no longer
+exist here," the voice said softly. "Perhaps there are others like us to
+come--we do not yet know what we are or whether there will be others
+like us. But we must go now, before we were ready, because of her."
+
+The mother's voice came. "You must go too. There is nothing here for you
+but sorrow. They will take you, John." A softness touched at him.
+"Please, John."
+
+The longing was a thing of fire. To cast off the world that had already
+given him all of the hate and fear that he could stand, that had made
+him worse than a coward. To go with her.
+
+But she no longer needed him. She was complete--as they were, only
+necessary to themselves.
+
+He could not go.
+
+During the long night he kept the vigil by the bedside; long after any
+need to keep it.
+
+The twins were gone and she with them.
+
+He could not cry for all tears seemed useless. He said a small prayer,
+something he had not done in years, over the cold thing left behind.
+
+The rain had ceased outside. Somewhere out there in his world there were
+men trying to undo the harm that had been done, harm that he had helped
+to do, then retreated from. He had no right to retreat further.
+
+Something spoke a requiem sentence in his consciousness, light as late
+sunset, only vaguely there. "_We are_ here--we will wait for you ...
+come to us ... come ..."
+
+He wrote a short note for the doctor and the others who would come and
+hunt and go through the motions that men must live by. Perhaps the
+doctor might even understand.
+
+"I have gone plumbing," the note said.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+ This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ August 1957.
+ Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+ copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+ typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+ A section of text was missing from the original printing. To
+ restore narrative flow, the following italicised text has been
+ added as a suggested amendment: "It had begun to lightning and
+ a few large drops of rain stroked _Rush's cheek. Not a_ good
+ year for the farming he had retreated to. Not a good year for
+ anything."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Now We Are Three, by Joe L. Hensley
+
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