Seeking the Mythical Future Read Online Free

believed for a moment in the inexplicable, the extra-ordinary. There was always a reason to explain everything, from the behaviour of people to those events which at first seemed to defy common sense. For those who didn’t conform to this belief there was the inescapable reality of Psy-Con , which no one in his right mind would deny.
    Kristiensen told the crew members to clear out of the way,and it seemed for a moment as if the Summarian might object, but then Mr Swann made a gesture which was unambiguous in its intention. He closed the cabin door firmly behind them and stood with his back to it.
    Kristiensen leaned over the unconscious man and carefully cut the material away with his knife until he was naked to the waist. His flesh seemed to glow, as if illuminated from within; and Mr Standish, his eyes straining in the dim light, started involuntarily and said, ‘You can see his bones.’
    â€˜And also his blood vessels,’ the Captain added.
    Indeed it was true: the man was translucent. His flesh was solid enough to the touch and yet it was possible to see below the surface, to see actually inside him – the vague milky outline of the skeleton and musculature, the tenuous network of arteries and veins, the shadowy bulk of the inner organs, like pebbles seen darkly at the bottom of a murky pool. And there was something else. Kristiensen touched the man’s left shoulder and traced the shape that was imprinted there, as though branded into the flesh. It was a circle with a bar set diagonally through the lower right-hand arc. It was the letter Q.
    The First Mate said wonderingly, ‘Is he a man? Is he human?’
    â€˜He’s a man all right,’ Kristiensen replied. ‘Though where he comes from and to what race he belongs I haven’t a notion. Mr Swann, what do you make of this?’
    The Second Mate stepped forward, his dark square face sober and perplexed. He gazed his fill at the figure on the bunk, and then his brows grew close together; his arms hung by his sides, impotent, urging some kind of action. He looked towards the Captain as if seeking some friendly reassurance, a sensible and rational explanation.
    Kristiensen held a tube to each of the man’s nostrils and squirted something inside which dispersed like mist in the nasal cavity. They waited for a moment but there was no response.
    â€˜What does the mark on his shoulder signify?’ Mr Standish asked.
    â€˜It’s not a birthmark, at least I don’t think so,’ Mr Swann said. ‘It’s too exact and well-formed.’
    â€˜A badge of rank perhaps.’ Kristiensen said, which was less a query than an inward musing.
    â€˜But where is he
from
?’ Mr Standish said. ‘A man adrift on the ocean must come from somewhere.’ He looked at the others; for some reason he felt light-headed and was aware of a trembling in his fingertips. There was no threat of danger, so why should he feel so odd? The mystery of it deepened his anxiety.
    The Captain spread an emollient preparation over the man’s chest and shoulders and smoothed it into the skin. His large broad hands had a surprising delicacy of touch. He took a strip of cloth from a bottle containing a pale amber liquid and placed it underneath the man’s left armpit. After a second or two he removed the strip and examined it; Mr Standish noticed that it had changed colour, from dark red to pink.
    â€˜His body temperature is normal,’ Kristiensen said. ‘There’s little we can do for him except keep him under observation, above all keep his temperature down, and immediately he shows signs of recovery—’
    â€˜Captain!’ Mr Swann said. He stumbled forward.
    The man’s eyelids were flickering. A muscle moved in his shoulder and a spasm of nervous energy contracted the muscles of his chest. His lips trembled and tried to form themselves into a word. The First Mate experienced a sudden cold prickling