Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"They need rest, dear."

"I know. But I want to check that new program."

"It sounded complex."

"Can be, by voice. I'd rather work on paper. A computer doesn't accept excuses. A mistake can be anything from 'null program' to disaster. This one has features I've never tried. I don't really understand what Pop does. NonEuclidean n-dimensional geometry is way out in left field."

"To me it's not in the ball park."

"So I'm itchy."

"Let's talk about something else."

"Did I show you our micro walky-talkies?"

"Jacob gave me one."

"There's one for each. Tiny but amazingly long-ranged. Uses less power than a hand calculator and weighs less-under two hundred grams. Mass, I mean-weight here is much less. Today I thought of a new use. Gay can accept their frequency."

"That's nice. How do you plan to use this?"

"This car can be remote-controlled."

"Deety, who would you want to do that?"

I admitted that I did not know. "But Gay can be preprogrammed to do almost anything. For example, we could go outside and tell Gay, via walkytalky, to carry out two programs in succession: H, 0, M, E, followed by B, U,G, 0, U, T. Imagine Zebadiah's face when he wakes up from sun in his eyes- because his car has vanished-then his expression two hours later when it pops back into existence."

"Deety, go stand in the corner for thinking such an unfunny joke!" Then Aunt Hilda looked thoughtful. "Why would it take two hours? I thought Gay could go anywhere in no time."

"Depends on your postulates, Princess Thuvia. We took a couple of hours to get here because we fiddled. Gay would have to follow that route in reverse because it's the only one she knows. Then-" I stopped, suddenly confused. "Or would it be four hours? No, vectors would cancel and- But that would make it instantaneous; we would never know that she had left. Or would we? Aunt Hilda, I don't know! Oh, I wish our men would wake up, I do!" The world wobbled and I felt scared.

"I'm awake," Pop answered, his head just showing above the doorsill. "What's this debate?" He gave Aunt Hilda a lecherous leer. "Little girl, if you'll come up to my room, I'll give you some candy."

"Get away from me, you old wolf!"

"Hilda my love, I could sell you down to Rio and retire on the proceeds. You look like expensive stuff."

"I'm very expensive stuff, darling wolf. All I want is every cent a man has and constant pampering-then a fat estate when he dies."

"I'll try to die with plenty of money in the bank, dearest."

"Instead we're both dead and our bank accounts have gone Heaven knows where and I haven't a rag to my back-and I'm wonderfully happy. Come inside-mind the radar!-and kiss me, you old wolf; you don't have to buy me candy."

"Pop," I asked, "is Zebadiah asleep?"

"Just woke up."

I spoke to Gay, then to Pop: "Will you tell Zebadiah radar is off? He can stand up without getting his ears fried."

"Sure." Pop ducked down and yelled, "Zeb, it's safe; her husband left."

"Coming!" Zebadiah's voice rumbled back. "Tell Deety to put the steaks on." My darling appeared wearing sword, carrying pie pan and sheets. "Are the steaks ready?" he asked, then kissed me.

"Not quite, sir," I told him. "First, go shoot a thoat. Or will you settle for peanut butter sandwiches?"

"Don't talk dirty. Did you say 'thoat'?"

"Yes. This is Barsoom."

"I thoat that was what you said."

"If that's a pun, you can eat it for supper. With peanut butter."

Zebadiah shuddered. "I'd rather cut my thoat."

Pop said, "Don't do it, Zeb. A man can't eat with his thoat cut. He can't even talk clearly."

Aunt Hilda said mildly, "If you three will cease those atrocities, I'll see what I can scrape up for dinner."

"I'll help," I told her, "but can we run my test first? I'm itchy."

"Certainly, Deety. It will be a scratch meal."

Pop looked at Aunt Hilda reproachfully. "And you told us to stop."

"What test?" demanded my husband.

I explained the Bug-Out program. "I think I programmed it correctly. But here is a test. Road the car a hundred meters. If my program works-fine! If

it tests null, no harm done but you and Pop will have to teach me more about the twister before I'll risk new programming."

"I don't want to road the car, Deety; I'm stingy with every erg until I know when and where I can juice Gay. However- Jake, what's your minimum transition?"

"Ten kilometers. Can't use spatial quanta for transitions-too small. But the scale goes up fast-logarithmic. That's short range. Middle range is in light~years-lOgarithmic again."

"What's long range, Jake?"

"Gravitic radiation versus time. We won't use that one."

"Why not, Jacob?" asked Aunt Hilda.

Pop looked sheepish. "I'm scared of it, dearest. There are three major theories concerning gravitic propagation. At the time I machined those controls, one theory seemed proved. Since then other physicists have reported not being able to reproduce the data. So I blocked off long range." Pop smiled sourly. "I know the gun is loaded but not what it will do. So I spiked it."

"Sensible," agreed my husband. "Russian roulette lacks appeal. Jake, do you have any guess as to what options you shut off?"

"Better than a guess, Zeb. It reduces the number of universes accessible to us on this axis from the sixth power of six-to-the-sixth-power to a mere six to the sixth power. Forty-six thousand, six hundred, fifty-six."

"Gee, that's tough!"

"I didn't mean it as a joke, Zeb."

"Jake, I was laughing at me. I've been looking forward to a lifetime exploring universes-and now I learn that I'm limited to a fiddlin' forty-six thousand and some. Suppose I have a half century of exploration left in me. Assume that I take off no time for eating, sleeping, or teasing the cat, how much time can I spend in each universe?"

"About nine hours twenty minutes per universe," I told him. "Nine hours, twenty-three minutes, thirty-eight point seven-two-two seconds, plus, to be more nearly accurate."

"Deety, let's do be accurate," Zebadiah said solemnly. "If we stayed a minute too long in each universe, we would miss nearly a hundred universes."

I was getting into the spirit. "Let's hurry instead. If we work at it, we can do three universes a day for fifty years-one of us on watch, one on standby, two off duty-and still squeeze in maintenance, plus a few hours on the ground, once a year. If we hurry."

"We haven't a second to lose!" Zebadiah answered. "All hands!-places! Stand by to lift! Move!"

I was startled but hurried to my seat. Pop's chin dropped but he took his place. Aunt Hilda hesitated a split second before diving for her seat, but, as she strapped herself in, wailed, "Captain? Are we really leaving Barsoom?"

"Quiet, please. Gay Deceiver, close doors! Report seat belts. Copilot, check starboard door seal."

"Seat belt fastened," I reported with no expression.

"Mine's fastened. Oh, dear!"

"Copilot, by low range, 'H' axis upward, minimum transition."

"Set, Captain."

"Execute."

Sky outside was dark, the ground far below. "Ten klicks exactly," my husband approved. "Astrogator, take the conn, test your new program. Science Officer observe."

"Yessir. Gay Deceiver-Bug Out!" We were parked on the ground.

"Science Officer-report," Zebadiah ordered. ~Report what?" Aunt Hilda demanded.

"We tested a new program. Did it pass test?"

"Uh, we seem to be back where we were. We were weightless maybe ten seconds. I guess the test was okay, Except-"

"Except' what?"

"Captain Zebbie, you're the worst tease on Earth! And Barsoom! You did so put lime Jello in my pool!"

"I was in Africa."

"Then you arranged it!"

"Hilda-please! I never said we were leaving Barsoom. I said that we haven't a second to waste. We don't, with so much to explore."