By THAEDRA ALDEN
Peter Brown's Wife Wasn't a Very Sympathetic Listener When He Tried
to Explain Why He Failed to Come Home After His Trip into the Future!
A PRIZE-WINNING ENTRY IN OUR AMATEUR SHORT STORY CONTEST
AT HEART I'm really a simple sort of person honest,
faithful, dependable and pretty much even tempered. At least I was that
way before I answered that accursed ad of Prof. Knotts. It messed up not only
my own life, but those of two very charming young ladies, each living in a
different time. Yes, I can remember that ad now:
WANTED: Young man to help with advanced scientific experiments. Must be strong, healthy and willing to take risks. Salary, $500 a month.
Now I knew Professor Knotts was an ungodly rich man, and supposedly a reputable scientist. I also knew that $500 a month would be like five million to me and Ethel. Ethel is, or rather was, my wife and it was largely her insistence that I do something quick about getting us out of some very pressing debts that prompted me to present myself at Professor Knotts' laboratory that fatal spring morning.
I got the job all right, partly because I had a smattering of scientific knowledge, but largely because of my athletic physique and cast-iron sort of constitution. Now all that's left of that proud physique is my remembrance of it. Of course I have a better one now, but that's where all the trouble starts. You see, my brain and my body don't match. Sounds impossible, I know, but it's true.
How was I to know that Professor Knotts wanted a subject on which to try out the working of his Time Machine? He had been working on it secretly for years, and like a fool I got my curiosity all worked up enough to try the thing. Of course that $500 a month looked too good to pass up, even though I should have known I was sticking my neck out.
At first, everything seemed fine. Professor Knotts was certain his machine was perfect and I respected his judgment. He wanted someone to act as a Time Messenger. That's where I came in—someone to help, him establish communication with a future civilization before he made his discovery public.
Now I don't doubt that the eminent gentleman had only the most altruistic motives at heart and I'm not one to question a great scientist's ideas, so I affably agreed to all his terms of secrecy, etc. That meant not telling Ethel but—oh well, she wasn't particularly the intellectual type anyway. She was too thrilled when I brought home a half a month's salary in advance to care for many details.
We had a hilarious time celebrating my new "job," which I told her was merely assisting Professor Knotts around his laboratory. Naturally I was a little jittery, who wouldn't be under the circumstances? That accounts for the unusually heavy drinking I did that night, much to Ethel's disgust. I often regret that that was the last impression my dear wife had of me.
THE natural result of that last evening together was that I showed up at the lab with a peach of a hangover. I still pride myself that it didn't show so awfully much on the surface, but oh boy, how I felt inside. I almost wished the Time Machine would blow up and take me with it into eternity. My head was exploding already but I managed to smile and say "Good morning, Professor" as pleasantly as ever. He looked me over a trifle suspiciously and then cleared his throat.
"You know, Peter Brown," he said, "this is the morning we are to try the first real experiment on my Time Machine."
I nodded and he continued:
"You are, of course, fully acquainted with the risk involved?"
I nodded again.
"I cannot guarantee where you will land in the future," he said, "although I can determine when, and I have set the controls seven thousand years in advance."
Wow! I blinked nervously. Seven thousand years into the future! I almost missed the Professor's next words.
"You may find yourself in a city," he said, "or on an open road, or even in a private dwelling. It will take a lot of ingenuity to meet any situation which might arise."
I agreed with that all right! "I expect," he went on, "and hope you can somehow make contact with the scientists and learned men of that future civilization and secure their cooperation in allowing your passage to and from our respective times in a sort of friendly exchange of authentic data and ideas."
So that was his game! Well, it wasn't too fantastic, I guess. After all, why not? It would certainly be a boon to our war-torn civilization to get some of the low-down on our world's future.
"I will transport you from this platform," Professor Knotts said. Then he handed me a peculiar looking contraption. "You will take with you this Time Helmet. It is automatically set to carry you back to the present when you fit it to your head and click these two knobs over." He illustrated by a simple movement.
I took the thing gingerly and pictured myself looking something like an elongated ant. The Professor handed me a revolver.
"Just in case of emergency," he explained hesitatingly. "I shall expect you back in about three weeks for your first report, after which we shall make arrangements for future trips."
I coughed nervously, but even then didn't have sense enough to back out of the whole affair. The scientist turned and busied himself with a sheaf of papers.
"These," he said, "are the plans for assembling a larger Time Machine, which you are to take along with you in case you are able to make further progress with your future contacts than I expect." That was a good idea, I thought.
We went over again the agreement I had signed, covering the full explanation and terms of my mission. In case anything should "happen" to me and I did not return at all, my wife, Ethel, was to receive a compensation of $200.00 a month for the rest of her natural life. This pretty little document had been signed, sealed and placed in the hands of a reputable firm of attorneys.
That was some relief anyway. It made a man feel better—just in case. I'm a crazy fool, I thought, but then the whole idea was not altogether too displeasing to my suppressed desire for high adventure and thrills. Little did I realize what an involved and fantastic destiny was taking shape in that laboratory.
As I was still a little dizzy from my hangover, I allowed myself to be docilely led to an oval platform in one corner of the room. It was surrounded by all the weird gadgets only a Time Machine can boast. A tense silence followed our few minutes of parting conversation and I realized somewhat giddily that this was the big moment!
The Professor threw the manifold switches and the machine began to hum. A network of blue and violet rays of light stabbed out and around me. Talk about sensation! No wonder he wanted someone "strong and healthy." The vibrations increased until I thought every atom in my body was going to explode. The laboratory faded away and I became numbly aware of my surroundings seven thousand years in the future!
FATE does funny things. Sometimes I think she must have quite a sense of humor, else why did she plan it that I was catapulted into another scientific laboratory? Why couldn't I have landed in a lake, or the edge of a cliff or some such safe place?
No, it had to be in another laboratory, but what a laboratory! It looked more like a palace or a temple. Why, it was positively beautiful! Nothing dirty, smelly or unpleasant, just spick-and-span shiningness and wonder. Some of the paraphernalia set apart from the rest looked fragile and delicate.
I just caught a glimpse of all this—me, an uncouth barbarian from the twentieth century standing in the midst of all this splendor. I must have been unconscious for several minutes after arriving, for when my senses really began to coordinate I found I had already been stripped of my Time Helmet and the revolver.
I noticed two men eyeing me with interest. I guessed they were scientists, all right, and thought impudently that here was luck—two ninetieth century scientists right in my lap. They were handsome chaps, youngish, too, but I sensed a mature intelligence about them. I was just about to open my mouth to speak when one of them sighed:
"Another Time Traveller, Zar." That stopped me cold. I wasn't even original.
They both looked at me searchingly and I began to get the feeling they were reading my mind like a book, so automatically I put up a sort of mental barrier, which was only natural. The man spoke:
"We have learned enough, Peter Brown," he said. "We don't blame you for shutting us out, but we have to examine all Time Travellers. It's part of our job." He turned to his companion:
"Have you made a record of this man, Zar?"
"Yes, Thoris," he replied, "but can't we delay his return for just a little while? My promise, to Daija, you know."
Right there I decided to put in my two cents' worth.
"Now just a minute," I began, and they settled back politely to listen to me rave. "From what I gather," I said, "you're going to shoot me back to my own time before I've had a chance to catch my breath."
"It is the rule," said the one called Thoris. "Believe us, my friend, when we say that we know through experience that it is wisest not to allow this matter to develop further. The Supreme Council has ruled that all Time Travellers must be sent back immediately and their particular method of passage through Time closed from this end." He shook his head gravely. "No good can ever come of it."
His words gave me a feeling of keen disappointment and anger.
"But that's not fair!" I blurted out.
"Our world's badly in need of some sane, scientific assistance right now, and what better means is there for us to get it than through Time Machines? After all, I should think you people would be a little more humanitarian than to give me the bum's rush like this!" I was sure getting hot under the collar and the two of them looked at me almost pityingly.
It was Zar who answered.
"Your people have not yet earned the right to such blessings as we enjoy," he said somewhat sadly and softly. "Only hard experience, in time, will soften the hearts and ennoble the characters of the man's mind. Cannot you see, Peter Brown, what a grave injustice we would be doing your world if you brought back to it our knowledge? It is not ready for our life yet. Your people are too immature in every way. They must fight and work to make their progress real to them."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
ABOUT myself, first of all, my real name is Elizabeth (Bettie) Hansen. Must I tell my age? Being a woman, I'll admit to somewhere in the twenties, but won't say exactly where! As to my nature, I am incurably imaginative, romantic and idealistic, perversely mixed up with a strong leaning towards the practical scientific, so you can see why I am so very much interested in science-fiction. When about 12 years old, I spent most of my time writing fairy stories—lots of them, for which I can remember winning a doll, jumping rope and box of candy at one time from a children's newspaper page.
Since then I have been mainly occupied with occult studies and astrology. I've done a little lecturing on occult philosophy and astrology—studies which have helped me greatly in better understanding myself and others.
Have also studied dietetics and am a strict vegetarian! Was formerly a Healing Secretary for the Rosicrucian Fellowship at Oceanside, Calif., where I helped people with advice on personal problems.
"Two-Timing Man" is my first effort at science-fiction writing. Ever since first starting to read science-fiction, I've wanted to write stories with a constructive viewpoint and hope for poor humanity's future welfare, character and development.
I'll certainly try to write some more stories, although having a baby in the house is like trying to rest on an active volcano and gives me precious little time.
—THAEDRA ALDEN.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
That stumped me. There was a lot in that pretty speech and as my thoughts were busy with it, I became aware that two more figures were entering the laboratory through a door in the east wall. A young man and woman came forward eagerly.
"Greetings, Daija and Wanis," smiled the two scientists.
"Here is your Time Traveller," said Zar to his daughter, "but remember, he must soon return to his Time so you may converse but a little while."
As the radiant creature turned to me I gazed goggle-eyed at the goddess-like girl before me. She was taller than I, with softly radiant golden skin and eyes the deepest purple I've ever seen. This was topped by luxuriant, lavender hair! The few jeweled straps and strings adorning her body could scarcely be called clothes. As to her figure—well, I didn't realize the human body could be so magnificent.
Her companion was no mean figure either, as masculine beauty goes. He was a marvelous specimen at least a head taller than I.
If there ever was a beautiful hunk of man he was it.
"When did he come, Dad?" he asked. "We hurried as soon as we got your call."
That surprised me, too, as I wondered in what manner Zar had summoned his daughter in such short time. I later learned these people had more than one peculiar way of accomplishing almost instantaneous communication. I had a hunch it was through some device in one of those huge rings he wore, and I was right.
The powerful force-rays they were able to wield through those harmless-looking rings were not to be sneezed at—no sirree.
AS THE gorgeous gal smiled at me I blushed and the young man, her husband I found out later, looked at me curiously. I hastily shut off my thoughts and he smiled in a friendly sort of way.
"I'm so glad you're a young person," said Daija. "Tell us, Peter Brown, about the young people of your age. Are they serious at all about their world-service, or are they completely pleasure-mad, as some of the books would have us believe?"
"Lady," I expostulated. "Some of those books need changing. Right now almost everybody is darned serious and working hard to win a war for freedom and right." There I was, all wound up and going good.
As we talked there in that glittering, palatial laboratory, I found out what genuine people these folks were. Just as we were getting really friendly, Thoris, who was made of sterner stuff, mentioned again that I must be getting back to 1943, having overstayed my allotted time. The girl and her husband seemed genuinely sorry.
By this time I had made up my mind I wasn't going to be gypped out of this golden opportunity to get a peek at this new world. Glancing around, I tried to conceive of some way to forestall the older man's determination to clap that Time Helmet on my head and send me back.
Carefully screening my thoughts, I bowed good-bye to Daija and Wanis. They rose to depart, but just as they reached the invisible door and it opened silently before them I called for them to wait a moment. They paused and in that instant, before Zar or Thoris could try their magic tricks on me, I sprinted for the door like greased lightning. Why I should ever try such a fool stunt, I don't know. It was just a mad impulse to get outside and trust to luck that something would happen to keep me there a bit longer.
Well, it did happen! And what a holocaust of human wreckage followed! I didn't reckon with the numerous gadgets in that wonder-laboratory. In my mad dash I jumped over a small silver railing enclosing a mass of indescribable machinery. At my first move Wanis had leaped forward to intercept me, and at the very same instant Thoris flashed a paralyzing ray on me from one of his rings. I went down like a ton of bricks, my weight striking Wanis head-on and the momentum of my rush carrying us forward. We slid over the polished floor right smack into the midst of that glittering machinery.
It sounds rather cold to describe in so many words the bedlam that broke loose then. My foot struck a lever as I jammed up against those trick gadgets. A needle-point ray of some sort of unbelievable and fantastic power-radiation hit Wanis right between the eyes. He went out like a light, with every brain cell in his cranium totally disintegrated. I had escaped this fate to dislodge machinery of incredible weight and mass which came crashing down on my spine, crushing it completely and practically severing my torso in two.
There we were, a pretty messy sight cluttering up the laboratory, but the two scientists acted quickly. What they did to remedy the situation has never ceased to amaze me beyond belief. I guess they were actually shattered out of their ninetieth century serenity. In response to Daija's agonized cries to save her husband at all costs, they did the only thing possible under the circumstances.
With the wonderful efficiency of that age, we were whisked instantly to an adjoining hospital where wizards of surgery took the only uninjured part of me —my brain, and transferred it to the then empty-headed but otherwise untouched and perfect body of the man Wanis! I was told later that this was the only course of procedure open to them, other than letting us both die. Both Zar and Thoris felt responsible for what had happened in their laboratory and had urged that the operation be performed. Time was precious and no one had a chance to give much thought to all the complications which would naturally follow such action. But what complications!
WHEN I came to weeks later, the first thing I saw was a pretty pink-haired nurse. At first I thought I had been drinking too much and then, gradually, the whole horrible remembrance swept over me. I jerked up immediately, and the nurse pushed me back gently, uttering soothing noises. I felt weirdly and incomprehensibly "different" but even then the truth didn't dawn on me.
I noticed, with growing surprise and uneasiness, that my feet were much farther away from me than was normal. I threw back the covers and looked down at a body which wasn't mine! It was a magnificent body, to be sure, but not the one I had been living in for 28 years! Feebly I closed my eyes and waited for a moment before opening them. Yes, it was still the same—those two strange, long legs just weren't mine, or were they?
By this time people were filling my room, Zar, Thoris, Daija and several dignified-looking gentlemen whom I took to be doctors. They were exceedingly solemn, and it was Daija who explained, rather tearfully, the whole story of my peculiar predicament. She looked at me long and searchingly and tears started to flow as she sensed the difference of my personality in the body of her beloved husband.
"You're not Wanis," she said, brokenly.
"No, ma'am," I replied mournfully, "and I've got a wife back in 1943."
Daija ran from the room and Zar hurried after to comfort her. The rest closed in on me with all sorts of consoling phrases and suggestions until in exasperation I shouted:
"Get out! Let me alone! , I've got to think!"
They got, all right, and I leaned back weakly. I couldn't think at first. My poor little twentieth Century brain could scarcely stand the strain, but as the days passed in the pleasant surroundings of that hospital I gradually reoriented myself to the point where I could face the reality of my position with some degree of saneness.
The formerly stern Thoris took me under his wing, so to speak, and as he was a member of the Supreme Council and influential in governmental circles I received every consideration possible. In fact, I'm really a sort of celebrity in these parts now and they're giving me "time" to make up my mind whether I wish to remain here as a citizen of 8943 A.D. or return through their Time Machine to 1943. Meanwhile, I'm getting the lowdown on what it's like here in the future and do I have plenty to learn! If only my conscience didn't bother me so, I could have a right good time in this magical wonderland.
Did I say "conscience"? To be exact, it should be "Ethel!" Ye gods, I don't even know to whom I'm rightfully married. I can't help feeling bigamistically guilty with my brain and personality belonging to one woman and my body and social status to another. Daija, that lavender-haired lovely, starts to weep every time she sees me. We do our best to avoid each other, but we can't deny there's an almost irresistible attraction between us. Magnetism, I guess.
Well, it was at one of our fateful meetings in the laboratory that Fate gave me another nasty crack. Zar and Thoris had promised to show me more about the workings of their marvelous method of "fishing" people who were on a Time Track headed for their Time. It had something to do with the flow of the Time Stream, and they had developed a method of sensing the particular vibration of any explorative ray or beam headed their way. After the Time Travellers arrived or had been "caught" by their tractor time rays, they are sent back by reversing the ray and then blocking off that vibration in some incredible way. That is putting it very roughly.
Well, we were seated again in the laboratory, Daija and I exchanging furtive glances, when Thoris announced a Time Traveller was on the way. Even as he spoke, a force-field around a raised dais began to glow brightly. A vague premonition struck me as not one, but two figures slumped gently to the floor of the dais. I arose, frozen to the marrow. "It's Ethel!" I gulped, "and the Professor."
THE others looked at me, sensing the whole situation. As I stood there like a statue while my erstwhile wife and the Professor were coming to, a million thoughts flashed through my mind. Evidently Ethel had raised rumpus with the Professor about my continued absence. Knowing her as I do, it's easy to guess how she finally broke him down and got him to confide the whole story. Now the two of them were here—right on my tail and anxious to see what had happened. Was I in a spot!
When they were revived Ethel looked around with obvious distaste and a little fear. The Professor was exultant.
"We've done it, my dear, we've done it!" he kept saying over and over. Her glance swept over me without the slightest recognition of course, and with forward crispness she turned to Zar and Thoris.
"So this is the future is it? Where is my husband?" she demanded. "He is supposed to have come here months ago and—" her voice trailed off and she looked to Professor Knotts for support.
"Mrs. Brown," began Zar kindly. "Your husband is safe and well, although he is somewhat changed."
"Changed?" she asked sharply. "Just what do you mean?"
"Ethel," I finally found my tongue and blurted out, "Don't you know me?" She froze to ice as she looked up to my seven-foot height from her diminutive five feet. She had always hated being a half-pint and now, being told this Greek-god-like person was her husband was certainly not her idea of a joke.
"My word!" ejaculated Professor Knotts, "Is that really you, Peter?" At this embarrassing moment, Zar, with kindly tact took the Professor by the arm and led him gently away. They were soon engrossed in what was no doubt, highly scientific palaver. Daija stood by, silent and sympthetic as Ethel looked at us suspiciously. Then she got mad.
"What sort of trick is this," she exclaimed hotly.
"Now wait a minute, Ethel," I interrupted quickly. "It's me, only I've got a different body. My other one was wrecked in an accident, but my brain's the same, and it was transferred to the body of this lady's," I waved toward Daija, "husband. Honest, I've been about crazy."
From the way she looked I could tell Ethel was as jealous as a cat.
"So," she sputtered, "this is how you desert me and leave me to wonder and worry about you, while all the time you're gallivanting around with—with this person. Well listen to me, Peter, I think this is just your way of getting rid of me, and if this is how they act in the future I don't want to stay here another minute!
"Johnny!" she yelled at the Professor. "Take me back immediately." She turned to me scornfully, "I'm divorcing you just as soon as I get back to 1943—you deserting Romeo!"
I was still rather tongue-tied as Professor Knotts came up and took Ethel's arm in a possessive sort of manner. So that was the way the wind blew! If I hadn't been so embarrassed, it would have been funny. After living with poised, intelligent people for some time, this emotional display seemed rather in bad taste to me. I guess I've changed a lot, all right. Perhaps Wanis' body is conveying some of its earthly personality to me.
I stood there dumbly as the scientists sent the two of them back through Time —Ethel with her head held high, and the Professor with a dazed but smugly, happy expression on his face. Then I turned and went out of the laboratory. I had to be alone to think some more and I needed peace and quiet.
The Sky-Meadows! That was it! I'd go there and gather myself together. These are fabulous pleasure-grounds they have here. Gorgeous man-made parks, suspended in the clouds, they are complete with hills, brooklets, trees, flowers and color, color everywhere. Even their mossy grasses are set out in different hues, colored marble edifices for convenience and comfort nestle in the valleys like living jewels. Just thinking about them revived me.
To reach these Sky Meadows, most people scorn to use their private aircraft. Instead, for the sport and thrill of it, they ride their flying horses. Oh, yes, they have flying horses here. Evolution plus science have somehow concocted these wonderful animals. They are raised solely for pleasure purposes. The creatures themselves are keen as a whip, very affectionate and needless to say, it's one thrill in a million to ride between their mighty wings as they race along and then take off into the air. I've spent lots of time pursuing this sport, and I've often grinned to myself thinking what fun it would be to ride down 1943 Broadway like a fugitive from the classic myths. But that's out of the question, now. I'm here to stay.
AFTER tethering my horse on a beautifully yellow-orange slope, I sat down and stretched out comfortably. The air was like champagne. Ah, this was the life, I thought. But I hadn't been there more than ten minutes before I noticed my winged Pegasus sniffing the breeze knowingly. Then looking upward, I saw another mount and rider drifting toward me. Daija!
She dismounted and came toward me, hands outstretched. Then her eyes looked into mine.
"I know what you've been through," she said softly, "and I understand." Everything broke clear to me as I pulled her toward me in a heavenly embrace.
"I'm going to christen you Petoro," she said happily. "You are now a regular citizen of the year 8943 A.D." "Daija," I said seriously. "What can I do here—to make myself useful?"
"You might open a 'Kindness to Time Travellers Bureau"! she replied with mock austerity. "After all, with your past experience you should be admirably suited to the job!"
"Yes," I continued eagerly, "perhaps the Council will give me permission to treat befuddled time travellers royally, invite them to dinner, show them the town!" I was getting excited about the idea now.
"After all," I reasoned, "the usual time traveller is never the dangerous type, in fact, your father mentioned once that I was the most impetuous one he'd ever seen!"
We both laughed at that, and as I took Daija once more into my arms and gazed into the eyes of that perfect woman, I knew then and there that I would never again have Time hang heavily on my hands!