Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"Zebadiah, you're being logical-a most unfair way to argue!"

"Jacob," said my wife, "suppose we were people who don't like fanciful stories. What sort of worlds would we find?"

"I don't know, Hilda. Probably only humdrum slice-of-life universes indistinguishable from the real world. Correction: Substitute 'Universe-zero' for 'real world'-because, as your theory requires, all worlds are equally real. Or unreal."

"Jacob, why do you call our universe 'universe-zero?"

"Eh....or convenience. Our point of origin."

"Didn't you tell me that no frame is preferred over any other? Each one to the Number of the Beast is equally zero in six axes?"

"Well... theory requires it."

"Then we are fiction in other universes. Have I reasoned correctly?"

I was slow in answering. "That seems to be a necessary corollary. It's a disturbing idea: that we ourselves are figments of imagination."

"I'm nobody's figment!" my daughter protested. "I'm real, I am! Pinch me!....uch! Zebadiah, not so hard!"

"You asked for it, dear," Zeb told her.

"My husband is a brute. And I've got a cruel stepmother just like Snow White. I mean 'Cinderella.' And my Pop thinks I'm imaginary! But I love you anyway because you're all I've got."

"If you fictional characters will pipe down, we'll get this show on the road. Stand by to rotate. Gay Sagan!"

Mars was where it should be. I felt more real.

"Pipe down and do your job."

Hilda:

"Set, Captain," I reported. "Thirteenth rotation. Correct, Zebbie?"

"Check, Sharpie. Captain?"

Deety answered, "Let's catch our breaths." She stared out at the ruddy barrenness of Mars-zero. "That rock looks downright homelike. I feel like a tourist who tries to see thirty countries in two weeks. Shock. Not 'future shock' but something like it."

"Homesickness," I told her. "Knowing that we can't go back. Deety, somewhere, somewhen, we'll build another Snug Harbor. Won't we, Jacob?"

Jacob patted my knee. "We will, dearest."

Deety said wistfully, "Will we really find another Snug Harbor?"

"Deety, are you over your pioneer-mother jag?"

"No, Zebadiah. But I can get homesick. Like you. Like Hilda. Like everybody but Pop."

"Correction, Daughter. I don't miss Logan, and I don't think Hilda misses California_"

"Not a bit!" I agreed.

"Nor me," agreed Zeb. "I had a rented flat. But Snug Harbor was home."

"Agreed," Jacob answered. "I didn't really hate these vermin until they bombed our home." Jacob added, "We've got to find a new Snug Harbor. Comfortable as this car is, we can't live in it indefinitely."

"Check. Sharpie, your theory seems to be checking out. Is there any reason to finish this schedule? Should we go directly to Teh axis?"

"Zebbie, granted that most rotations didn't amount to more than sightsee-

ing, if we hadn't followed this schedule, this car would not be nearly so comfortable. Do you know of another Ford that has two bathrooms?"

"Sharpie, I don't know of one that has one bathroom. Our space-warp special lets us stay in space as long as our air holds out. And food. But air is the critical factor."

I said, "Zebbie, have you noticed that our air does not get stuffy?"

"It will soon."

"It need not," Jacob pointed out. "We can scram-code to Oz, or to Wonderland, in seconds. Sweet air, no danger."

Zebbie looked sheepish. "I'm still learning what our wonder buggy will do."

"So am I."

"Gentlemen, you missed my point. You might check the juice. I haven't mentioned another asset. Zebbie, would you like a banana?"

"Sharpie, I ate the last before I buried garbage. While you and Deety were washing dishes before we left Wonderland."

"Tell him, Deety."

"Zebadiah, Hilda and I salvaged and put everything into the basket. Hilda started to put it into our wardrobe-and it was heavy. So we looked. Packed as tight as when we left Oz. Six bananas-and everything else. Cross my heart. No, go look."

"Hmmm- Jake, can you write equations for a picnic basket that refills itself? Will it go on doing so?"

"Zeb, equations can be written to describe anything. The description would be simpler for a basket that replenishes itself indefinitely than for one that does it once and stops-I would have to describe the discontinuity. But I am no longer troubled by natural-or 'unnatural'-laws that don't apply in Universe-zero."

"Mmmm... Science Officer, I suggest that you check on that basket now that we have returned to Universe-zero."

"Zebbie, make that an order in writing and sign your name-if you want to look foolish. Deety, will you order it logged?"

"Sharpie, if you weren't such good company, I'd strangle you. Your earlier answer recommended that we complete the rotations."

"No, I noted that the first twelve had not been unprofitable. We could have completed the last three by now had we not spent time debating it."

"Hilda honey, our cowardly Astrogator needed time to get his nerve back. By yumpin' yiminy, once you're all trained, I'm going to retire."

"We would simply recall you, Zebbie. Each will go on doing what she can do best."

"Time is out of joint. 0 cursed spite, that I was ever picked to set it right."

"You misquoted."

"I always do. What universe do we hit next?"

"Zebbie, we have three rotations to go, with four left on the four-votes list. One is useless but amusing and safe. The other three are places to live but each has its own dangers. As the chief of surgery us~ed to say: 'I dunno, let's operate and find out."

Zebbie sighed. "All hands, stand by to rotate. Execute!"

Green fire- '~Rotate! Execute!"

A formless red fog- ~Gay Sagan!"

Mars looked like an old friend. Zebbie wiped his brow and said, "Whew! One to go- Cap'n Deety hon, let's get it over with. Sharpie?"

"Fifteenth universe-set!" I reported.

'Execute!"

We came out into a starry universe. "Cap'n Deety hon, don't these constellations look familiar?" Zebbie commented.

"I think so."

"They are familiar," I insisted. "Except that there is a very bright star near the Gemini. That ought to be the Sun. We're way out past Pluto, where the comets spend the winter. Let's move in and find Earth."

"Don't be in a hurry," said Zebbie. "Science Officer, what was that first rotation? Green fire?"

"How about the deadly green nebula in 'The Legion of Space'?-on the trip to the Runaway Star where Aladoree had been taken."

"That was on your list?"

"All of us voted for it."

"What was that red fog we rotated into next?"

"That one is harder to figure," I admitted. "It could be any universe by a writer who paid respectful attention to astronomy-Bova, Haldeman, Schmidt, Pournelle, Niven, Benford, Clement, Anderson, and so forth. But there were four votes for 'The Mote in God's Eye.' Whether the two old gentlemen had anything to do with it or not, I think we blundered into a red giant. A red giant is close to what we call vacuum. Anyhow, we weren't hurt; we were there about two seconds."

"Less than that, Sharpie; you set it with one click, and barely had your thumb off the execute button. Captain, do you wish to transit toward that bright star?"

"Let's chop off thirty or forty A.U.'s," Deety decided, "and get a rough cross fix. Maybe that will give us a disc Pop can measure. If not, we'll narrow it down until it does. Then place us one A.U. from the Sun and we'll spot Earth easily. Astrogator-advice."

"Captain, I advise making that first jump with wide offset. Miss the Sun by at least one A.U. At least."

"Yes! Zebadiah, make that cross fix wide. Uh-" Deety peered around. "There's the Sickle. Have Pop aim for Regulus."

My husband said, "I'm swinging toward Regulus. Zeb, how do I take the angular width of the Solar disc without broiling an eyeball?"