assembled to do. In
unison, ten to the sixteenth storage cells turned butter side up at the
single wave of a mental flag.

He thought of his father and his mother; of his Sally. He thought of his
commanding officer and of the fellows he liked and disliked. The
primitive urge to communicate was upon him, because he must first
establish communication before he could rise from the stony mineral
stage to the exalted level of a vegetable. Bereft of his normal senses,
undistracted by trivia such as noise and pain and the inestimable
vastness of information bits that must be considered and evaluated, his
brain called upon his memory and provided the background details.

The measured tread of a company of marching soldiers can wreck a bridge.

The cadence of ten to the sixteenth brain cells, undivided by the
distraction of incoming information, broke down a mental barrier.

As vividly as the living truth, Jerry Markham envisioned himself
sauntering down the sidewalk. The breeze was on his face and the
pavement was beneath his feet, the air was laden with its myriad of
smells and the flavor of a cigarette was on his tongue. His eyes saw
Sally running toward him, her cry of greeting was a welcome sound and
the pressure of her hug was strong and physical as the taste of her
lips.

Real.

She hugged his arm and said, "Your folks are waiting."

Jerry laughed. "Let the general wait a bit longer," he said. "I've got a
lot to tell him."

* * * * *

Huvane said, "Gone!" and the sound of his voice re-echoed back and forth
across the empty cell.

"Gone," repeated Chelan. "Utterly incomprehensible, but none the less a
fact. But how--? Isolated, alone, imprisoned--cut off from all
communication. All communication--?"

"I'll get another specimen, chief."

Chelan shook his head. "Seven times we've slapped them down. Seven times
we've watched their rise--and wondered how they did it. Seven times they
would have surpassed us if we hadn't blocked them. Let them rise, let
them run the Universe. They're determined to do that anyway. And now I
think it's time for us to stop annoying our betters. I'd hate to face
them if they were angry."

"But chief, he was cut off from all communication--?"

"Obviously," said Chelan, "not!"

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ March
1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the