James Tiptree Jr. - Up the Walls of the World

She actually smiles. Dann wonders if TOTAL knows all the numbers in America .

Ted Yost recounts a tale of being thrown out of shipboard poker games for winning too often. “Never was that hot again,” he admits. Even Costakis ventures in with a yarn about opening a safe in which the urgent secret turned out to be an executive’s rotting lunch. The girls and Winnie laugh unforcedly.

“They must think we’re practicing the obstacle course,” Winnie pokes the monstrous portions of pot roast. “You know, we should call this Noah’s ark.”

It has to be a tired joke, but Noah chuckles benignly. “We’ll show them tomorrow.”

Only Rick has been silent and withdrawn. Now Dann sees his face clear. He sits up straighter and starts eating. Has his parasitic brother been tranquillized again?

I’m getting to believe this, Dann thinks. I’m acting as if it’s true. Do I actually believe they can—whatever it is? He doesn’t know, but he is enjoying the pleasant in-group atmosphere. They’re feeling free, he thinks. Unimpinged on. If any of this is true they must lead miserable lives. Don’t think of it. No way to help.

Suddenly everyone falls silent: a car has stopped outside and a tall thin man is heading for them. But it isn’t Major Fearing, it’s a stranger with a flat cowlick of white hair. The tension relaxes. Dann spots the caduceus on the man’s fatigues and pushes back his chair.

“Good evening, ah, Doctor Catledge’s party? I’m Doctor Harris. Just dropped by to see if you need anything.”

Dann introduces Noah. Harris looks curiously around the table; he has a thin, dry, long-upper-lipped face.

“Our medical station is right in the next area, Doctor Dann, you’ll find the number on your phone. Wait—” He extracts a blank card and scribbles on it. “We have a pretty complete little facility if you have any problems.” Harris’ manner is cheery but the lines in his face suggest weary compromises in the face of many peculiar demands.

“Thanks.” Dann pockets the card. Harris looks around the table again, still casual.

“An odd thing happened this afternoon,” he remarks. “About fourteen-fifty, ah, ten to five. You didn’t notice anything, by any chance? A feeling of disorientation, say?”

They watch him silently. Just as Noah opens his mouth, Rick speaks up.

“Oh, you mean the blip.” He nods reassuringly at Harris. “Not to worry. It merely means we’re near the end of this sequence.”

“Blip? Sequence!” Harris’ insectile upper lip pulls down.

“Yes. You remember Admiral Yamamoto in World War Two? Very important, boss man on the Japanese side. He was torpedoed off Rabaul in 1943. Changed the war and all that.”

Harris frowns. “Excuse me, young man. I was in the Navy. It happens Yamamoto was shot down, over Bougainville .”

“Oh, that’s in this sequence,” Rick smiles. “In the original sequence he was sunk. That’s why you felt the blip this afternoon. Don’t worry, you won’t know a thing.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Look.” Rick leans forward confidentially. “Japanese scientists, see? Very bright, very gung-ho. Took it to heart. So they secretly worked out a temporal anomalizer thingie. Like a time machine, to you. To go back and change it, see? But they’ve only managed to change the details, yet, he’s still getting killed. So they keep on trying. When you feel a blip like this afternoon it means they’re ready again, they’re testing. Then they wrap up this sequence and start over. You’ll be back in the Navy any time now. Have fun.”

Harris stares at him. The air around the table quivers.

“The thing is,” Rick lowers his voice, “some of us with psi powers remember other sequences, see? Different things happen—I think Dewey got elected once. We figure it’s rerun at least twelve times. But like I said, you won’t feel a thing.”

“I see.” Harris closes his chitinous mouth. “Ah. Well. Good to meet you, Dann. You have our number. Anything we can do.”

He leaves, walking fast. Everybody breaks up except Costakis, who looks shocked.

“Sssh,” Valerie gasps, “he’ll hear you.”

“He can’t, his car’s started.”

“That was ba-a-ad.” Ted Yost sighs happily, thinking maybe of the great Pacific. Even Margaret’s carved mouth twitches.

“Marvelous idea for a science-fiction story,” Noah chuckles.

“Do you read science fiction, Doctor Catledge?” Valerie asks.

“Indeed I do. Always have. Only people with ideas.”

“Flying saucers,” Costakis grunts.

“Not at all, Chris. Science fiction is quite another thing from UFOs, whatever they may be. But I certainly do believe there’s life on other worlds. Shall I tell you my secret dream?”

“Oh, please do!” Winona’s popeyes are shining.

“To live long enough to experience man’s first contact with aliens. Oh, my!” The old man bounces involuntarily. “Imagine, the day a voice comes out of space and speaks to us! Of the advent of a ship, a real spaceship!”

He isn’t joking, Dann sees astonishedly. Real yearning in that voice.

“And out gets a big blue lizard,” Frodo adds, “and he says, ‘Taake me to your an-thro-po-lo-gee dee-partment.’ ” She gives a happy, sizzling chuckle, like a different person.

“She gets out,” says Valerie quietly.

“Why not? Why not?” Noah laughs.

There is an odd, breathy silence. Faces glow. Dann, who does not read science fiction, is amazed.

“But we’d shoot them,” Winona says.

“It won’t happen,” Costakis says in his sour voice.

“No,” Rick agrees. The glow is gone.

“Who knows,” Noah says stubbornly. “It could happen any time. The Indians didn’t expect Columbus .”

“Speaking of voices from space,” says Dann, who has been ransacking his druggy brain, “didn’t I read that they’re listening for signals around Tau Ceti? By satellite, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, but it’s laser signals,” Noah says, and the conversation breaks up.

Costakis catches Dann’s eye. “That medic was sent to check us out. Rick shouldn’t have done that. Could be trouble.”

The little man has resumed his irritating fake-tough tone.

“Oh surely not, Chris. Professional courtesy, nothing more.”

“Sure, sure, Doc.”

It’s time to go.

“Well, no movie for us high security risks,” Ted Yost says.

“Probably be an old John Wayne,” Frodo grimaces.

It’s still light as they come out, a lovely evening. Dann loiters hopefully, but Margaret heads for the bus without a backward look.

“I’d love to walk,” Winona exclaims, “why don’t we all?”

The others are trooping aboard, leaving her between him and the bus. Dann barely checks the impulse to bolt around her.

“I know you’re a fast walker, Doctor Dann. Don’t wait for me, you go right ahead.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he makes himself say genially.

She smiles happily and steps out beside him, blue hair, turquoise bosom and buttocks, bounding at random.

“How sweet of you… Margaret says you saw the deer. Oh, I hope we see one… Isn’t it strange this place is so peaceful, like a park?… Whatever they do down here, it’s nice for the animals. I wonder how big it is?”

She’s already puffing; he makes himself slow down.

“Well, if all the areas are a square mile, that’s at least six square miles. Say four thousand acres.”

“My goodness!”

It’s going to be a long mile, Dann thinks, remembering Margaret’s queenly stride. Stop that now. Talk to this idiot woman.

“Tell, Mrs. ah, Eberhard, what do you do when you’re not, ah, telepathizing?”

“Oh, Winona , please, Winnie.”