The Dark Tower-Part 1#-2#(57)

Shardik's Beam-and the Beam of the Elephant, Way of the Wolf-some call that one Gan's Beam.

"I wonder if you can imagine my horror at discovering what I'd actually been doing in The Study. When I'd been scratching that innocent itch. Although I knew all along that it was something important, knew it.

"And there was something worse, something I hadn't suspected, something that applied only to me. I'd known that I was different in some ways; for one thing, I seemed to be the only Breaker with an ounce of compassion in my makeup. When they've got the mean reds, I am, as I told you, the one they come to. Pimli Prentiss, the Master, married Tanya and Joey Rastosovich-insisted on it, wouldn't hear a word against the idea, kept saying that it was his privilege and his responsibility, he was just like the captain on an old cruise-ship-and of course they let him do it. But afterward, they came to my rooms and Tanya said, ' You marry us, Ted. Then we'll really be married."

"And sometimes I ask myself, 'did you think that was all it was? Before you started visiting with Trampas, and listening every time he lifted up his cap to scratch, did you truly think that having a litde pity and a little love in your soul were the only things that set you apart from the others? Or were you fooling yourself about that, too?"

"I don't know for sure, but maybe I can find myself innocent on that particular charge. I really did not understand that my talent goes far beyond progging and Breaking. I'm like a microphone for a singer or a steroid for a muscle. I …  hype them. Say there's a unit of force-call it darks, all right? In The Study, twenty or thirty people might be able to put out fifty darks an hour without me. With me? Maybe it jumps to five hundred darks an hour. And it jumps all at once.

"Listening to Trampas's head, I came to see that they considered me the catch of the century, maybe of all time, the one truly indispensable Breaker. I'd already helped them to snap one Beam and I was cutting centuries off their work on Shardik's Beam. And when Shardik's Beam snaps, lady and gentlemen, Gan's can only last a little while. And when Gan's Beam also snaps, the Dark Tower will fall, creation will end, and the very Eye of Existence will turn blind.

"How I ever kept Trampas from seeing my distress I don't know. And I've reason to believe that I didn't keep as complete a poker face as I thought at the time.

"I knew I had to get out. And that was when Sheemie came to me the first time. I think he'd been reading me all along, but even now I don't know for sure, and neither does Dinky. All I know is that one night he came to my room and thought to me, "I'll make a hole for you, sai, if you want, and you can go boogiebye-bye.' I asked him what he meant, and he just looked at me.

It's funny how much a single look can say, isn't it? Don't insult my intelligence. Don't waste my time. Don't waste your own. I didn't read those thoughts in his mind, not at all. I saw them on his face."

Roland grunted agreement. His brilliant eyes were fixed on the turning reels of the tape recorder.

"I did ask him where the hole would come out. He said he didn't know-I'd be taking luck of the draw. All the same, I didn't think it over for long. I was afraid that if I did, I'd find reasons to stay. I said, 'Go ahead, Sheemie-send me boogiebye-

bye."

"He closed his eyes and concentrated, and all at once the corner of my room was gone. I could see cars going by. They were distorted, but they were actual American cars. I didn't argue or question any more, I just went for it. I wasn't completely sure I could go through into that other world, but I'd reached a point where I hardly even cared. I thought dying might be the best tiling I could do. It would slow them down, at least.

"And just before I took the plunge, Sheemie thought to me,

"Look for my friend Will Dearborn. His real name is Roland.

His friends are dead, but I know he's not, because I can hear him. He's a gunslinger, and he has new friends. Bring them here and they'll make the bad folks stop hurting the Beam, the way he made Jonas and his friends stop when they were going to kill me.' For Sheemie, this was a sermon.

"I closed my eyes and went through. There was a brief sensation of being turned on my head, but that was all. No chimes, no nausea. Really quite pleasant, at least compared to the Santa Mira doorway. I came out on my hands and knees beside a busy highway. There was a piece of newspaper blowing around in the weeds. I picked it up and saw I'd landed in April of 1960, almost five years after Armitage and his friends herded us through the door in Santa Mira, on the other side of the country. I was looking at a piece of the Hartford Courant, you see. And the road turned out to be the Merritt Parkway."

"Sheemie can make magic doors!" Roland cried. He had been cleaning his revolver as he listened, but now he put it aside. "That's what teleporting is! That's what it means!"

"Hush, Roland," Susannah said. "This must be his Connecticut adventure. I want to hear this part."

ELEVEN

But none of them hear about Ted's Connecticut adventure. He simply calls it "a story for another day" and tells his listeners that he was caught in Bridgeport while trying to accumulate enough cash to disappear permanently. The low men bundled him into a car, drove him to New York, and took him to a ribjoint called the Dixie Pig. From there to Fedic, and from Fedic to Thunderclap Station; from the station right back to the Devar-Toi, oh Ted, so good to see you, ivelcome back.

The fourth tape is now three-quarters done, and Ted's voice is little more than a croak. Nevertheless, he gamely pushes on.

"I hadn't been gone long, but over here time had taken one of its erratic slips forward. Humma O'Tego was out, possibly because of me, and Prentiss of New Jersey, the ki '-dam, was in. He and Finli interrogated me in the Master's suite a good many times. There was no physical torture-I guess they still reckoned me too important to chance spoiling me-but there was a lot of discomfort and plenty of mindgames.

They also made it clear that if I tried to run again, my Connecticut friends would be put to death. I said, 'don'tyou boys get it? If I keep doing my job, they're going out, anyway. Everybody's going out, with the possible exception of the one you call the Crimson King."

"Prentiss steepled his fingers in the annoying way he has and said, 'That may be or may not be true, sai, but if it is, we won't suffer when we 'go out," as you put it. Little Bobby and little Carol, on the other hand …  not to mention Carol's mother and Bobby's friend,

Sully-John … 'He didn't have to finish. I still wonder if they knew how terribly frightened they'd made me ivith that threat against my young friends. And how terribly angry.

"All their questions came down to two things they really wanted to know: Why had I run, and who helped me do it. I could have fallen back on the old name-rank-serial number routine, but decided to chance being a bit more expansive. I'd wanted to run, I said, because I'd gotten a glimmering from some of the can-toi guards about what we were really doing, and I didn't like the idea. As for how I'd gotten out, I told them I didn't know. I went to sleep one night, I said, and just woke up beside the Merritt Parkway. They went from scoffing at this story to semibelieving it, mostly because I never varied it a single jot or tittle, no matter how many times they asked. And of course they already knew how powerful I was, and in ways that were different from the others.

"Do you think you're a teleport in some subconscious way, sai?" Finli asked me.

"'How could I say?' I asked in turn-always answer a question with a question is a good rule to follow during interrogation, I think, as long as it's a relatively soft interrogation, as this one was. 'I've never sensed any such ability, but of course we don't always know what's lurking in our subconscious, do we?"

"'You better hope it wasn't you,' Prentiss said. 'We can live with almost any wild talent around here except that one. That one, Mr.

Brautigan, would spell the end even for such a valued employee as yourself.' Iwasn't sure I believed that, but later Trampas gave me reason to think Prentiss might have been telling the truth. Anyway, that was my story and I never went beyond it.

"Prentiss's houseboy, a fellow named Tassa-a hume, if it matiers-would bring in cookies and cans of Nozz-A-La-which I like because it tastes a bit like root beer-and Prentiss would offer me all I wanted …  after, that was, I told them where I'd gotten my information and how I'd escaped Algal Siento. Then the whole round of questions would start again, only this time with Prentiss and the Wease munching cookies and drinking Nozzie. But at some point they 'd always give in and allow me a drink and a bite to eat. As interrogators, I'm afraid there just wasn't enough Nazi in them to make me give up my secrets.

They tried to prog me, of course, but …  have you heard that old saying about never bullshitting a bullshitter?"

Eddie and Susannah both nod. So does Jake, who has heard his father say that during numerous conversations concerning Programming at the Network.

"I bet you have, "Ted resumes. "Well, it's also fair to say that you can't prog a progger, at least not one who's gone beyond a certain level of understanding. And I'd better get to the point before my voice gives out entirely.

"One day about three weeks after the low men hauled me back,

Trampas approached me on Main Street in Pleasantville. By then I'd met Dinky, had identified him as a kindred spirit, and was, with his help, getting to know Sheemie better. A lot was going on in addition to my daily interrogations in Warden's House. I'd hardly even thought about Trampas since returning, but he'd thought of little else than me.