Time Travel Omnibus, page 553
In the year A.D. 200 the world had now something over twenty billion souls, and technology was running neck-and-neck with expansion. Nuclear-driven ploughs had cleared the Teutoburg Wald, where Varus’ bones were still mouldering, and fertiliser made from ion-exchange mining of the sea produced fantastic crops of hybrid grains. In A.D. 300 the world population stood at a quarter of a trillion. Hydrogen fusion produced fabulous quantities of energy from the sea; atomic transmutation converted any matter into food. This was necessary, because there was no longer any room for farms. The Earth was getting crowded. By the middle of the sixth century the 60,000,000 square miles of land surface on the Earth were so well-covered that no human being standing anywhere on dry land could stretch out his arms in any direction without touching another human being standing beside him.
But everyone was healthy, and science marched on. The seas were drained, which immediately tripled the available land area. (In fifty years the sea bottoms were also full.) Energy which had come from the fusion of marine hydrogen now came by the tapping of the full energy output of the Sun, through gigantic ‘mirrors’ composed of pure force. The other planets froze, of course; but this no longer mattered, since in the decades that followed they were disintegrated for the sake of the energy at their cores. So was the Sun. Maintaining life on Earth on such artificial standards was prodigal of energy consumption; in time every star in the Galaxy was transmitting its total power output to the Earth, and plans were afoot to tap Andromeda, which would care for all necessary expansion for—thirty years.
At this point a calculation was made.
Taking the weight of the average man at about a hundred and thirty pounds—in round numbers, 6 x 104 grammes—and allowing for a continued doubling of population every thirty years (although there was no such thing as a ‘year’ any more, since the Sun had been disintegrated; now a lonely Earth floated aimlessly towards Vega), it was discovered that by the year 1970 the total mass of human flesh, bone and blood would be 6 x 1027 grammes.
This presented a problem. The total mass of the Earth itself was only 5.98 x 1027 grammes. Already, humanity lived in burrows penetrating crust and basalt and quarrying into the congealed nickel-iron core; by 1970 all the core itself would have been transmuted into living men and women, and their galleries would have to be tunnelled through masses of their own bodies, a writhing, squeezed ball of living corpses drifting through space.
Moreover, simple arithmetic showed that this was not the end. In finite time the mass of human beings would equal the total mass of the Galaxy; and in some further time it would equal and exceed the total mass of all galaxies everywhere.
This state of affairs could no longer be tolerated, and so a project was launched.
With some difficulty resources were diverted to permit the construction of a small but important device. It was a time machine. With one volunteer aboard (selected from the 900 trillion who applied) it went back to the year 1. Its cargo was only a hunting rifle with one cartridge, and with that cartridge the volunteer assassinated Snodgrass as he trudged up the Palatine.
To the great (if only potential) joy of some quintillions of never-to-be-born persons, Darkness blessedly fell.
WELL, it isn’t exactly a true story.
Not from this end, anyway. But . . . a population doubling every thirty years is close to the average of “new” nations; even the United States does it in fifty . . . so come back two thousand years from now and let’s see!
THE RESCUER
Arthur Porges
There have been lots of paradoxes proposed in the existence of the time machine. But this is, simply, a matter of the human emotional paradox that inescapably arises if a time machine exists!
■ It was by far the largest, most intricate machine ever built.
Its great complex of auxiliary components covered two square blocks, and extended hundreds of feet beneath the earth. There were fifty huge electronic computers at the heart of it. They had to be capable of solving up to thirty thousand simultaneous partial differential equations in as many variables in any particular millisecond. The energy which the machine required to operate successfully on a mass of M pounds was given by a familiar formula: E=MC2. The K was not, as in Einstein’s equation, the velocity of light; but it was large enough so that only one type of power could be used: the thermonuclear reaction called hydrogen fusion.
Designing the machine and developing the theory of its operation had taken thirty years; building it, another ten. It had cost three billion dollars, an amount to be amortized over roughly one hundred years, and supplied by fifteen countries.
Like the atomic bomb, the machine could not be tested piecemeal; only the final, complete assembly would be able to settle the question of success or failure. So far, no such trial of its capabilities had been made. When the time came, a one milligram sample of pure platinum would be used.
It was the largest, most intricate, expensive, fascinating and dangerous machine ever built. And two men were about to destroy it. They would have to release a large amount of thermonuclear energy in order to wreck the machine. It was the only way in the circumstances.
It was a heartbreaking decision to have to make. Perhaps they should have contacted higher authorities in Washington, since the machine, although quite international in scope, was located in California; but that was too dangerous with time so short. Bureaucratic timidity might very well cause a fatal delay. So, knowing the consequences to them, the two scientists did what they believed had to be done. The machine, together with several blocks of supporting equipment, including the irreplaceable computers, was vaporized. They escaped in a fast air car.
PRELIMINARY HEARING—
A TRANSCRIPT
THE UNITED STATES
versus DR. CARNOT
THE UNITED STATES
versus DR. KENT
April 14, 2015
(Extract)
JUDGE CLARK: How did the man know the operation, when the machine had never even been tested?
DR. CARNOT: The theory had been widely discussed in many scientific papers—even popular magazines. And the man was a technician of sorts. Besides, it wasn’t necessary to understand the theory; not more than forty or fifty men in this country could. He must have seen numerous pictures of the controls. The settings are simple; any engineer can use a vernier.
JUDGE CLARK: I think you’d better tell this court just what happened from the beginning. Your strange reticence has caused a great deal of speculation. You understand that if found guilty, you must be turned over to the U-N. Criminal Court for prosecution.
DR. CARNOT: Yes, Your Honor; I know that.
JUDGE CLARK: Very well. Go ahead.
DR. CARNOT: Dr. Kent and myself were the only ones in the area that night. It was a matter of chance that we decided to check some minor point about the bus bars. To our astonishment, when we arrived at the control room, the machine was in operation.
JUDGE CLARK: How did you know the machine was being used?
DR. CARNOT: In many ways; all the indicators were reacting; but primarily the mass-chamber itself, which had dislimned and assumed the appearance of a misty, rainbow-colored sphere.
JUDGE CLARK: I see. Go on.
DR. CARNOT: Dr. Kent and I were shocked beyond expression. We saw from the readings that the person, whoever he was, had entered for a really fantastic number of ergs—that is, energy. Far more than any of us would have dared to use for many months, if at all. (At this point Senator King interposed a question.)
SENATOR KING: How did the fellow get into the area? What about the Security?
DR. CARNOT: As you know, the machine is international, and sponsored by the U.N. Since there is no longer any military rivalry among the members, the work is purely scientific, and no country can be excluded. Naturally, the complex is protected against crackpots; but this man worked on the project as a Class 5 technician, and must have known how to avoid the infrared and other warning systems.
JUDGE CLARK: We had better not confuse the issue with such digressions. How the man got in is no longer important. But your sudden knowledge of his background is. Dr. Carnot. In an earlier statement you claimed to have no information about his identity. How do you explain that?
DR. CARNOT: I had to lie.
JUDGE CLARK: Had to?
DR. CARNOT: Yes, Your Honor. AH of that will become clear, I hope, later in my testimony. Right now, let me clarify our dilemma. The machine was definitely in operation, and had been for about eight minutes. We couldn’t be certain that it would work—I mean to the extent of completing the job as programmed by the intruder; bur the theory had been carefully investigated, and all the computations, which, as you know, took many years, checked out. It is a peculiarity of the machine, related to the solution of thousands of the most complicated differential equations, that there can be neither a cessation nor a reversal of its operation without grave danger to the entire state—perhaps even a larger area. The combination of vast energies and the warping of spacetime that would result, according to theory, might vaporize hundreds of square miles. For this reason, and others, our plans had not gone beyond trying masses less than one gram.
JUDGE CLARK: Let me understand your point. It was impossible merely to shut off the machine? Stop the power?
DR. CARNOT: If the theory is sound, yes. I can only suggest the analogy of breaking an electrical circuit involving millions of amperes—the current jumps the gap, forming an arc which is very difficult to stop. Well, in this case, it was not merely millions of amps, but energies comparable only to those emitted by a large mass of the sun itself. In short, the only way to prevent completion of this particular operation was to bleed off enough of that energy to destroy most of the complex. That, at least, would save the populated areas. Remember, we had only about twelve minutes in which to choose a course of action.
JUDGE CLARK: But you weren’t even sure the machine would work; that is, that the man would really survive. Yet you deliberately wiped out a three billion dollar project.
DR. CARNOT: We simply couldn’t risk it, Your Honor. If the man did survive, and succeeded in his mission, the dangers were almost inconceivable. Even philosophically they are more than the human mind can grasp.
JUDGE CLARK: But neither of you has been willing so far to explain that point. This court is still completely in the dark. Who was the man, and what did he attempt to do?
DR. CARNOT: Up to now, we weren’t ready to speak. But if you will clear the court except for yourself, the President, and a few high, responsible officials, I’ll try to satisfy this tribunal. The fact is, as you will see, that a large part of the public, in this country, at least, might approve of what that man tried to do. It may not be possible to convince laymen—people not used to the abstractions of philosophy or science—of the great risk involved. I can only hope that this court will appreciate the implications. I should add that Dr. Kent and myself have seriously considered refusing any further information, but merely pleading guilty to willful destruction of the machine. As it is, if you decide to release us to the U.N. for criminal proceedings, we still might have to do just that—which means your records would have to be suppressed. Our only reason for testifying is not to save our own lives, but the hope that we can contribute to the design of a new machine. And to better understanding of the problems involved in the operation. Among the public, that is.
JUDGE CLARK: I must take your attitude seriously; that is very plain. Do you persist in maintaining that this room should be cleared, and all broadcasting suspended? Press, distinguished scientists, senator—all these are not qualified to hear the testimony?
DR. CARNOT: I only mean that the fewer who hear me, the fewer mouths to be guarded. And I’m sure this court will feel the same way when all my evidence is in.
JUDGE CLARK: Very well, then. The bailiffs will clear the room, except for the President, the National Security Council and the Chairman of the Research Committee of the Congress. All electronic equipment will be disconnected; a complete spy curtain will be put on this room. Court will adjourn for two hours, reconvening at 1500.
PRELIMINARY HEARING
(Continued)
JUDGE CLARK: We are ready to hear your testimony now, Dr. Carnot.
DR. CARNOT: Do I have Your Honors absolute assurance that nobody outside this room can hear us?
JUDGE CLARK: You do. The spy curtain, which your own colleagues in science claim bars all wave lengths, is on at full strength.
DR. CARNOT: If I seem too cautious, there is a reason, as you will see.
JUDGE CLARK: I certainly hope so. Now, will you please give the real point of this testimony? What was the man—and incidentally, has any identification come in on him yet? No? Well, what was he doing that seems to have scared you so?
DR. CARNOT: His name doesn’t matter; it was on the note he left.
JUDGE CLARK: What note? Nothing was said about a note. Here this court has been trying to identify the man, and all the time—
DR. CARNOT: I’m sorry, Your Honor; that is part of the testimony we thought had better be withheld until now. The man did leave a note, explaining just what he meant to do with the time machine.
JUDGE CLARK: And what was that?
DR. CARNOT: He had set the dial for a two thousand year trip into the past. That accounted for the vast amount of energy required. You see, it varies not only with the mass transported, but the time as well.
JUDGE CLARK: Two thousand years!
DR. CARNOT: That’s right, Your Honor. In itself, that’s bad enough. It is one thing to send a small mass or a sterile insect back in time; even then, there are dangers we can hardly predict. The present is intricately involved with the past—stems from it, in fact. It’s like altering the origin of a river; a little change at the source can make a tremendous difference at the mouth. Even move it fifty miles away. Now a modern man in the world of two thousand years ago—frankly, Your Honor, we just don’t know what that might do. It seems fantastic to believe that he could change the here-and-now, and yet the theory implies that this whole universe might change completely, or even vanish. Don’t ask me where or how.
(At this point, Professor Pirenian, of the National Security Council broke in with a question.)
PIRENIAN: Why didn’t you and Dr. Kent merely send another man to intercept this one? Yours, by the machine, could obviously set the dials to get there first, thus snatching the first one back before he could do any harm.
DR. CARNOT: We thought of that, even in the few minutes we had. But suppose before we could cut in ahead of him that this world vanished? Believe me, the paradoxes, are maddening; no amount of mathematical wrangling can settle them; only experiment. We couldn’t chance it; that’s all.
PIRENIAN: You’re right, of course. Maybe we should be glad, gentlemen, that Dr. Carnot—and Dr. Kent—were there instead of the rest of us!
DR. CARNOT: You still don’t know the real danger. What I’ve said so far applies to an impulsive, random trip to the distant past, where the man had no specific intentions. But Michael Nauss did have a particular plan—a wild, crazy, and yet, in a way, magnificent conception. One that the public, or much of it, might foolishly support without realizing the consequences. I speak of this country and people in Europe; not in Asia, for the most part. And he had set the vernier with perfect precision, which made his plan even more feasible.
JUDGE CLARK: What was he going to do?
DR. CARNOT: According to his note, this man had taken with him a repeating rifle and five thousand rounds of exploding ammunition. His intention was nothing less than to arrive at Golgotha in time to rescue Jesus Christ from the Roman soldiers. In short, to prevent the crucifixion. And with a modern rifle, who can say he wouldn’t succeed? And then what? Then what? The implications are staggering. Disregarding the Christian dogma, which asserts Jesus had to die for our sins, what of the effect on the future, the entire stream of history, secular as well as religious. Maybe Jesus Himself would have prevented this madman from saving Him—but who can be sure? Yet, if you ask the man in the street, now, in this year 2015: Shall we save Jesus Christ from the cross?—what would he answer?
Whose side would he take? Ours, or Michael Nauss’. That is why Dr. Kent and I destroyed the machine; and why we face this court now. We believe the proceedings should not be released. The decision is yours. We made ours that night. ■
HEY, LOOK AT ME
Jack Finney
his was a transcendent need to shout his undying ego
ABOUT SIX MONTHS AFTER Maxwell Kingery died I saw his ghost walking along Miller Avenue in Mill Valley, California. It was two twenty in the afternoon, a clear sunny day, and I saw him from a distance which I later paced off; it was less than fifteen feet. There is no possibility that I was mistaken about who—or what—I saw, and I’ll tell you why I’m sure.
My name is Peter Marks, and I’m the book editor of a San Francisco newspaper. I live in Mill Valley a dozen miles from San Francisco, and I work at home most days, from about nine till around two or three in the afternoon. My wife is likely to need something from the store by then, so I generally walk downtown, nearly always stopping in at Meier’s bakery which has a lunch counter. Until he died, I often had coffee there with Max Kingery, and we’d sit at the counter for half an hour and talk.
He was a writer, so it was absolutely inevitable that I’d be introduced to him soon after he came to Mill Valley. A lot of writers live here, and whenever a new one arrives people love to introduce us and then stand back to see what will happen. Nothing much ever does, though once a man denounced me right out on the sidewalk in front of the Redhill liquor store. “Peter Marks? The book critic?” he said, and when I nodded he said, “You, sir, are a puling idiot who ought to be writing ‘News of Our Pets’ for the Carmel Pine Cone instead of criticizing the work of your betters.” Then he turned, and—this is the word—stalked off, while I stood staring after him, smiling. I’d panned two of his books; he’d been waiting for Peter Marks ever since, and was admirably ready when his moment came.
