The Magic Labyrinth (46 page)

He looked at the faces around the table. Were there thoughts such as his behind those dour expressions? Was one or more than one struggling with temptation?

He’d have to watch them. Make sure that they didn’t try anything reprehensible.

He drank some of the yellow wine and said, “Is everybody agreeable to returning to The Valley? A show of hands, please.”

Everybody raised their hands except Tom Turpin. They looked hard at him. Grinning, he raised his hand.

“I was thinking of all the good times I could have here. But I don’t want to stay. Man, I couldn’t handle it. Only…I wonder if Loga’d let me take a piano with me.”

Alice burst into tears. “All those souls! I thought that I had an answer but…”

A screen on the wall glowed, and Loga’s smiling face appeared.

“Come here!” he shouted. He laughed. “Come here!” He laughed again. “The dominant has just succumbed, and I’ve just gotten a message from the other! Alice, you were right! Oh, how you were right!”

They ran into the control room and gathered around the Ethical. There was the display on the screen, glowing with the most recent communication.

Then they cheered and whooped and flung their arms about each other and got off the platform and danced.

After a while, Loga shouted for attention.

“Remember, it’s still dying! But it’s given me permission to replace the module! I have to leave at once!”

It would be sadly ironic, thought Burton, if the computer died before Loga could get to it.

Ten minutes later, as they were waiting for his call in the dining hall, he appeared grinning on a screen.

“It’s done! It’s done! I’ve already given the order to start the resurrection again!”

They cheered and cried and embraced again. Turpin sat down at the piano and played the “St. Louis Rag.”

“It’s been a long, long River, but we made it to the end!” Alice shrieked. Her big dark eyes seemed to glow like a video screen, her whole being radiated joy. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Yes,” Burton said. He kissed her several times. “We’ll have to go back to The River, but that doesn’t matter.”

How strange and unforeseeable! The world had been saved, not by great rulers and statesmen, not by mystics and saints and prophets and messiahs, not by any of the holy scriptures, but by an introverted eccentric writer of mathematical texts and children’s books and by the child who’d inspired him.

The little girl become a woman, dream-ridden Alice, had inspired the nonsense not really nonsense, and this in circuitous and spiraling fashion had inspired her to do what all others had failed to do, to save eighteen billion souls and the world.

While thinking this, Burton happened to look toward the door. Frigate had been whirling around and around and babbling nonsense all the way to the door. Now he was walking back from it and frowning.

Burton left Alice to go to him.

“Is something the matter?”

Frigate quit frowning and grinned.

“No. I thought I heard footsteps in the corridor. But I looked, and there was no one there. Imagination, I guess.”