Free Proteus Unbound by Charles Sheffield Page B

thin rectangular box, a head-covering helmet, and a whole snake's nest of wires and electrodes. "Today, the Leo-man tells me we had the problem wrong. He don't care how the signal gets in your head, he just wants to see it, know what it is drives you crazy. Different deal, right? Lot easier, because who cares if the signal came from outside or if you made up the whole thing? The memory of it's tucked away somewhere in there." He gestured at Bey's head. "So this gadget can pull it out for us."
    Bey eyed the device without enthusiasm. It had a random and unfinished look. "You want me to put that thing over my head? How am I supposed to breathe?"
    "Same as usual, in an' then out. There's air passages for that. Hey, loosen up. If I wanted to kill you, there's easier ways."
    "Two minutes," Sylvia Fernald cut in. "Aybee, we should be in our chairs. You have to leave."
    "Lots of time. Wolfman, don't you want to know how this works? It's dead good. See, you start thinking about what you saw—little red bogeymen, whatever. Those memories are stored away somewhere inside your head, scene-perfect. You never forget anything you experience, no one does, you just can't get at it, not in detail. So this takes your first-cut memory output, feeds it back to you, and asks if it's a perfect match. If not, it iterates the presentation until there is a match. My algorithm guarantees convergence. And all the time we're recording what we get. So at the end of a session, we've caught whatever you saw—even what you thought you saw, provided there's detail to it." He glared at Wolf, who was packing the flexible helmet away into its case. "Hey, what kind of ungrateful bozo are you? I put a lot of work in that. Aren't you going to try it?"
    "Are you saying it may not work?"
    "Sure it'll work, sure as my name's Apollo Belvedere Smith."
    "Then I'll use it when we're on the way to the farm." Bey pointed at the countdown indicator. "See that? You can look at the results of your work in real time if you don't get out of here in the next forty seconds. The hatch secures automatically thirty seconds before the drive comes on. You coming with us?"
    "No way!" Aybee was jumping for the cabin exit. "Call back and tell us what you get. Leo Manx is itchy, too." He was gone, but as the other two were moving to the bunks he poked his head back in. "Hey, Wolfman. Did you really rough up those three people last night before you ran into me?"
    Bey was strapped in, clutching Aybee's satchel to his chest. "Just the opposite. I didn't touch them, but one had a go at my ribs; another trod on my foot. I could show you the bruise."
    "Don't bother. Yon see one hairy leg, you've seen 'em all. But take a look at the news. They say you attacked them, without any warning. You're getting out of here just in time."
    And so was Aybee. The two passengers heard the outer hatch close no more than two seconds before the siren announced that the drive was being engaged.
    * * *
    Aybee's last-minute delivery proved a blessing. Bey had attempted conversation with Sylvia again once they were on the way, but she was so obviously upset about something that after a few minutes he took out the flexible helmet, attached the electrodes, and placed the set over his head.
    Aybee had not bothered with such details as operating instructions. Bey sat in darkness for a while, wondering if he had omitted to switch it on. He was ready to remove the helmet, but he did not want to confront Sylvia's anxious face. If the device operated as advertised, he should be concentrating on the clearest memory he had of the Dancing Man. It was easy to bring into mind that tiny figure, coming into view from the left of the screen . . .
    It was like form-change, but with one difference. The compulsion came from outside, not from within his own will. Bey was still conscious, but he had no control over anything. In his mind, the Dancing Man moved across the screen, paused, and moved again. Dance, pause, adjust, reset,