Isaac Asimov - The End of Eternity

Harlan was alone, helpless, useless. . . .

Brinsley Cooper entered. Excitement flushed his thin face and made it almost youthful, despite the heavy Mallansohn mustache that draped its upper lip.

(Harlan could see him through the window, hear him clearly over the room’s radio. He thought bitterly: A Mallansohn mustache! Of course!)

Cooper strode toward Twissell. “They wouldn’t let me in till now, Computer.”

“Very right,” said Twissell. “They had their instructions.”

“Now’s the time, though? I’ll beheading out?”

“Almost the time.”

“And I’ll be coming back? I’ll be seeing Eternity again?” Despite the straightness Cooper gave his back, there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

(Within the control room Harlan brought his clenched hands bitterly to the reinforced glass of the window, longing to break through somehow, to shout: “Stop it! Meet my terms, or I’ll—“ What was the use?)

Cooper looked about the room, apparently unaware that Twissell had refrained from answering his question. His glance fell on Harlan at the control-room window.

He waved his hand excitedly. “Technician Harlan! Come on out. I want to shake your hand before I go.”

Twissell interposed. “Not now, boy, not now. He’s at the controls.”

Cooper said, “Oh? You know, he doesn’t look well.”

Twissell said, “I’ve been telling him the true nature of the project. I’m afraid that’s enough to make anyone nervous.”

Cooper said, “Great Time, yes! I’ve known about it for weeks now and I’m not used to it yet.” There was a trace of near-hysteria in his laugh. “I still haven’t got it through my thick head that it is really my show. I—I’m a little scared.”

“I scarcely blame you for that.”

“It’s my stomach, mostly, you know. It’s the least happy part of me.”

Twissell said, “Well, it’s very natural and it will pass. Meanwhile, your time of departure on Standard Intertemporal has been set and there is still a certain amount of orientation to be gone through. For instance, you haven’t actually seen the kettle you will use.”

In the two hours that passed Harlan heard it all, whether they were in sight or not. Twissell lectured Cooper in an oddly stilted manner, and Harlan knew the reason. Cooper was being informed of just those things that he was to mention in Mallansohn’s memoir.

(Full circle. Full circle. And no way for Harlan to break that circle in one, last defiant Samson-smash of the temple. Round and round the circle goes; round and round it goes.)

“Ordinary kettles,” he heard Twissell say, “are both pushed and pulled, if we can use such terms in the case of Intertemporal forces. In traveling from Century X to Century Y within Eternity there is a fully powered initial point and a fully powered final point.

“What we have here is a kettle with a powered initial point but an unpowered destination point. It can only be pushed, not pulled. For that reason, it must utilize energies at a level whole orders of magnitude higher than those used by ordinary kettles. Special power-transfer units have had to be laid down along the kettleways to siphon in sufficient concentrations of energy from Nova Sol.

“This special kettle, its controls and power supply, are a composite structure. For physiodecades, the passing Realities have been combed for special alloys and special techniques. The 13th Reality of the 222nd was the key. It developed the Temporal Pressor and without that, this kettle could not have been built. The 13th Reality of the 222nd.”

He pronounced that with elaborate distinctness.

(Harlan thought: Remember that, Cooper! Remember the 13th Reality of the 222nd so you can put it into the Mallansohn memoir so that the Etemals will know where to look so they will know what to tell you so you can put it. . . . Round and round the circle goes. . . .)

Twissell said, “The kettle has not been tested past the downwhen terminus, of course, but it has taken numerous trips within Eternity. We are convinced there will be no bad effects.”

“There can’t be, can there?” said Cooper. “I mean I did get there or Mallansohn could not have succeeded in building the field and he did succeed.”

Twissell said, “Exactly. You will find yourself in a protected and isolated spot in the sparsely populated southwestern area of the United States of Amellika—“

“America,” corrected Cooper.

“America, then. The Century will be the 24th; or, to put it to nearest hundredth, the 23.17th. I suppose we can even call it the year 2317, if we wish. The kettle, as you saw, is large, much larger than necessary for you. It is being filled now with food, water, and the means of shelter and defense. You will have detailed instructions that will, of course, be meaningless to anyone but you. I must impress upon you now that your first task will be to make certain that none of the indigenous inhabitants discovers you before you are ready for them. You will have force-diggers with which you will be able to burrow well into a mountain to form a cache. You will have to remove the contents of the kettle rapidly. They will be stacked so as to facilitate that.”

(Harlan thought: Repeat! Repeat! He must have been told all this before, but repeat what must go into the memoir. Round and round . . .)

Twissell said, “You will have to unload in fifteen minutes. After that, the kettle will return automatically to starting point, carrying with it all tools that are too advanced for the Century. You will have a list of those. After the kettle returns, you will be on your own.”

Cooper said, “Must the kettle return so quickly?”

Twissell said, “A quick return increases the probabilities of success.”

(Harlan thought: The kettle must return in fifteen minutes because it did return in fifteen minutes. Round and . . .)

Twissell hurried on. “We cannot attempt to counterfeit their medium of exchange of any of their negotiable scrip. You will have gold in the form of small nuggets. You will be able to explain its possession according to your detailed instructions. You will have native clothing to wear or at least clothing that will pass for native.”

“Right,” said Cooper.

“Now, remember. Move slowly. Take weeks, if necessary. Work your way into the era, spiritually. Technician Harlan’s instructions are a good basis but they are not enough. You will have a wireless receiver built on the principles of the z4th which will enable you to come abreast of the current events and, more important, learn the proper pronunciation and intonation of the language of the times. Do that thoroughly. I’m sure that Harlan’s knowledge of English is excellent, but nothing can substitute for native pronunciation on the spot.”

Cooper said, “What if I don’t end up in the right spot? I mean, not in the 23.17?”

“Check on that very carefully, of course. But it will be right. It will be right.”

(Harlan thought: It will be right because it was right. Round . . .)

Cooper must have looked unconvinced, though, for Twissell said, “The accuracy of focus was carefully worked out. I intended to explain our methods and now is a good time. For one thing, it will help Harlan understand the controls.”

(Suddenly Harlan turned away from the windows and fixed his gaze on the controls. A corner of the curtain of despair lifted. What if—)

Twissell still lectured Cooper with the anxious overprecise tone of the schoolteacher, and with part of his mind Harlan still listened.

Twissell said, “Obviously a serious problem was that of determining how far into the Primitive an object is sent after the application of a given energy thrust. The most direct method would have been to send a man into the downwhen via this kettle using carefully graduated thrust levels. To do that, however, would have meant a certain lapse of time in each case while the man determined the Century to its nearest hundredth through astronomical observation or by obtaining appropriate information over the wireless. That would be slow and also dangerous since the man might well be discovered by the native inhabitants with probably catastrophic effects on our project.