Time Enough for Love

by Robert A. Heinlein

  “Galahad, there was never a chance I would refuse; I just had to be sure I was welcome. I still don’t know why.”

  “Oh. We were speaking of Tamara and got sidetracked. Justin, it’s not public knowledge how difficult it was to rejuvenate our Ancestor this time, although the recordings you have been editing may hint at it—”

  “More than a hint.”

  “But not all of it. He was almost dead, and simply keeping him alive while we rebuilt him was hard enough. But we managed that; you won’t find another technician of Ishtar’s skill. But when we had him in good shape, bio-age almost as young as he is now, he took a turn for the worse. What do you do when a client turns his face away, is reluctant to talk, doesn’t want to eat—yet has nothing wrong with him physically? Bad. Stays awake all night rather than risk going to sleep? Very bad.

  “When he—Never mind; Ishtar knew what to do. She went up into the mountains and fetched back Tamara. She wasn’t rejuvenated then—”

  “That wouldn’t matter.”

  “It did matter, Justin. Youth would have handicapped Tamara in coping with Lazarus. Oh, Tamara would have overcome the handicap; I have confidence in her. But her bio-age and appearance were around eighty on the Hardy scale; this made it easier, as Lazarus, despite his renewed body, was feeling the weight of his years. But Tamara looked old . . and every white hair was an asset. Lines in her face, little round potbelly, breasts pendulous, varicosities—she looked the way he felt . . so he didn’t mind having her around during a crisis in which he-well, I skansed that he couldn’t stand the sight of us who looked youthful. That’s all it took; she healed him—”

  “Yes, she’s a Healer.” (How well I knew!)

  “She’s a great Healer. That’s what she’s doing now, healing a young couple who lost their first baby—nursing the mother who had a rough time physically, sleeping with both of them. We all sleep with her; she always knows when we need her. Lazarus needed her then, she felt it, and stayed with him until he was well. Uh, after last night this may be difficult to believe, but both of them had quit sex. Years and years—Lazarus more than half a century, and Tamara had not coupled with anyone since she retired.”

  Galahad smiled. “Here is a case of the patient healing the physician; in bringing Lazarus around to the point where he invited her to share his bed, Tamara herself found new interest in living. She lived with Lazarus long enough to heal his spirit, then announced that she was leaving. To apply for rejuvenation.”

  I said, “Lazarus asked her to marry him.”

  “I don’t think so, Justin, and neither Tamara nor Lazarus hinted at such. Tamara put it another way entirely. We were all having a late breakfast, in the garden of the Palace penthouse, when Tamara asked Ira if she could join his migration—it was solely Ira’s migration then; Lazarus had said repeatedly that he would not join it. I think he already had in mind attempting to time-trip. Ira told Tamara to consider it settled and not to worry about restrictions that would be published when he announced it. Justin, Ira would have given her the Palace as readily; she had saved Lazarus, and we all knew it.

  “But you know Tamara. She thanked him but said she intended to qualify fully, starting with rejuvenation, then she would see what she could learn to be useful in a colony, just as Hamadryad planned to—and, Hamadryad, will you sleep with Lazarus tonight?—and Justin, you should have heard the commotion that started!”

  “Why a commotion?” I asked. “From what you said earlier Lazarus had reacquired his interest in the friendly sport. Did Hamadryad have some reason not to want to substitute for Tamara?”

  “Hamadryad was willing, although upset by the way Tamara dumped the matter on her—”

  “Doesn’t sound like Tamara. If Hamadryad hadn’t wanted to do it, Tamara would have known it without asking.”

  “Justin, when it comes to people’s emotions, Tamara always knows what she is doing. It was Lazarus she was trapping, not Hamadryad. Our Ancestor has odd shynesses, or did have then. He had been sleeping with Tamara for a month—and pretending that he was not. As futile as a cat covering up on a tile floor. But Tamara’s blandly blunt request that Hamadryad relieve her as his concubine forced it into the open and produced a head-on clash of wills, Lazarus and Tamara. Justin, you know them both: Who won?”

  The ancient pseudoparadox—That Tamara could be immovable I knew. “I won’t guess, Galahad.”

  “Neither just then, because once Lazarus stopped sputtering about how both he and Hamadryad were being needlessly embarrassed, Tamara gently withdrew her suggestion, then shut up. Shut up on that, shut up about rejuvenation, shut up about migrating, left the next move up to Lazarus and won the argument by not arguing. Justin, it is difficult to kick Tamara out of one’s bed—”

  “I would find it impossible.”

  “I think Lazarus found it so. What discussions they had in the middle of the night I could not say . . but Lazarus learned that she would not leave for rejuvenation until he promised never to sleep alone while she was gone. But she promised in exchange to return to his bed as soon as she completed antigeria.

  “So one morning Lazarus announced the detente—red-faced and almost stuttering. Justin, our Ancestor’s true age shows more in some of his ancient attitudes about sex than in any other way.”

  “I didn’t notice it last night, Galahad—and I expected to, having studied his memoirs so closely.”

  “Yes but you saw him last night some fourteen years after we set up our family—as it was that morning that did it. Although we did not formalize it until after the twins were born, whereas at this time they were slight bulges at most. Believe me, Lazarus found it hard to capitulate—and tried for an escape hole even then. He announced, rather aggressively, that he had promised Tamara not to sleep alone while she was undergoing antigeria, then said more or less in these words: ‘Ira, you told me that professional ladies were to be found in the city. How do I go about finding one who will accept a contract for that length of time?’ I have to quote him in English as he was using euphemisms he ordinarily disdains.

  “What Lazarus didn’t know was that Ishtar had programmed us like actors hypnotized into roles. Perhaps you’ve noticed that he is responsive to female tears?”

  “Isn’t everyone? I’ve noticed.”

  “Ira pretended not to know what profession Lazarus meant . . which gave Hamadryad time to burst into tears and flee . . whereupon Ishtar stood up and said, ‘Grandfather . . how could you?—and she was dripping tears, too . . and chased after Hamadryad. Then it was Tamara’s turn to switch on the the raindrops and follow the other two. Which left us three men together.

  “Ira became very formal and said, ‘If you will excuse me, Sire, I will attempt to find and console my daughter’—bowed, turned abruptly, and left. Which left it up to me. Justin, I didn’t know what to do. I knew that Ishtar expected difficulty because Tamara had warned her. But I did not expect to be left to juggle it alone.

  “Lazarus said, ‘Great balls of fire! Son, what did I do now?’ Well, I could answer that. I said, ‘Grandfather, you’ve hurt Hamadryad’s feelings.’

  “Then I was carefully unhelpful—refused to speculate why her feelings were hurt, could not guess where she might have gone—unless she had gone home, which I understood was somewhere in the suburbs—declined to act as his intermediary—all to Ishtar’s instructions to play dumb, stupid, and useless, and let the women handle it.

  “So Lazarus had to track Hamadryad down himself, which he did with Athene’s—I mean ‘Minerva’s’—help.”

  Athene said, “This is all news to me, Uncle Cuddly.”

  “If it is, dear, please forget it.”

  “Oh, I shall!” the computer answered. “Except that I’m going to save it up and use it about a hundred years from now. Justin, if I burst into tears—after I’m a flesh-andblood—will you track me down and console me?”

  “Probably. Almost certainly.”

  “I’ll remember that, Lover Boy. You’re cute.”


  I pretended not to hear, but Galahad said, “ ‘Lover Boy’?”

  “That’s what I said, dear. Sorry, Uncle Cuddly, but you’re obsolete. If you hadn’t gone to sleep early, you would know why.”

  I kept quiet while making a mental note for a hundred years hence—one that involved Pallas Athene as a flesh-and-blood and getting her into a helpless position.

  This side conversation was cut short; Athene notified us that Lazarus was arriving. Galahad waved his arms. “Hey! Pappy! Back here!”

  “Coming.” Lazarus bussed me in passing, did so to Galahad as he slid in by him and grabbed what was left of Galahad’s second breakfast—a home-baked jam roll—stuffed it into his mouth and said around it: “Well? Did he fight the hook?”

  “Not nearly the way you did with Hamadryad, Pappy. I was telling Justin about that—how the Hamadarling tripped you and thereby set up our family.”

  “My God, what a canard!” Lazarus helped himself to Galahad’s hot-cup. “Justin, Galahad is a sweet lad but romantic. I knew exactly what I wanted to accomplish, so I started by raping Hamadryad. That broke down her resistance, and now she sleeps with anybody, even Galahad. Everything else followed in logical sequence.” He added, “You still plan to go back to Secundus?”

  I answered, “Perhaps I didn’t understand what Galahad has been telling me. I thought I was committing myself, in joining, to—” I stopped. “Lazarus, I don’t know what I’m committed to, and I don’t know what I’m joining.”

  Lazarus nodded. “One must make allowances for youth, Justin; Galahad doesn’t speak clearly as yet.”

  “Thanks, Pappy. Too much. I sold him the deal. Now you’ve got him wondering.”

  “Quiet, Son. Let me spell it out, Justin. What you are joining is a family. What you are committed to is the welfare of the children. All of them, not just any that you may sire.” He looked at me, waited.

  I said, “Lazarus, I’ve raised a number of children—”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t think I’ve let one down yet. Very well, three that I haven’t seen, plus your two—your sisters or adopted daughters—plus others as they come along. Correct?”

  “Yes. But it’s not a lifetime commitment; that’s not practical for a Howard. This family may outlive us all—I hope so. But an adult can opt out anytime and thereby be committed only to kids then on hand—underfoot or in womb. Call it a maximum of eighteen years. However, I assume that the rest of the family would prefer to relieve such a person of his or her responsibilities in order to see the back of his neck. I can’t envision a happy relationship continuing for years after someone has announced that he wants out. Can you?”

  “Well . . no. But I won’t let it worry me.”

  “Of course it might not happen that way. Suppose Ishtar and Galahad decided to set up a separate household—”

  “Now wait one fiddlin’ minute, Pappy! You can’t get rid of me that easily! Ish won’t have me except as part of the package. I know, I tried to get her to marry me years back.”

  “—and wanted to take our three youngest with them. We would not stop them nor would we try to dissuade children who preferred to go with them. All three of them are Galahad’s—”

  “There he goes again! Pappy, you put Undine into Ish in the soak pool; that’s why we named her that. Elf is either yours or Ira’s; the Hamadear told me so. And nobody has any doubt about Andrew Jackson. Justin, I’m sterile.”

  “—based on statistical probability, both on sperm count and the fact that he keeps so busy at it. But Ishtar reads the gene charts and keeps such matters to herself; we prefer it that way. But it is extremely unlikely that Hamadryad ever said that, or that she has or ever will have a child by Ira. No genetic hazard, Ishtar is certain. And the fact that we have yet to have any defectives in this colony gives me great confidence in Ishtar’s skill in reading a gene chart; she screened the first wave, a job that gave her eyestrain for months. Nevertheless, Ira has some unease about it and won’t even stand close to Hamadryad when she is fertile—an irrational attitude I understand, as I am cursed with it myself. I remember too well a time in the past when all the Howards had to go on was percentage of mutual ancestry—and got defectives all too often. Of course today a woman with a clean gene chart is better off married to her brother than to a stranger from another planet—but old ghosts die hard.

  “What it amounts to, Justin, is three fathers—four, with you—three mothers, but four when Minerva asks to have her adolescence protection canceled—an ever-changing number of kids to be taught and spanked and loved—plus always the possibility of the number of parents being either enhanced or diminished. But this is my house, in my name, and I’ve kept it that way because I planned it to house one family, not to make life jolly for goats such as Galahad—”

  “But it does! Thank you, Pappy darling.”

  “—but for the welfare of children. I’ve seen catastrophe strike colonies that looked as safe as this one. Justin, a disaster could wipe out all but one mother and father in this family, and our kids would still grow up normally and happily. This is the only long-run purpose of a family. We think our setup insures that purpose more than a one-couple family can. When you join, you commit yourself to that purpose—that’s all.”

  I took a deep breath. “Where do I sign?”

  “I see no use in written marriage contracts; they can’t be enforced . . whereas if the partners want to make it work, no written instrument is necessary. If you seriously want to join us, a nod of your head is enough.”

  “I do!”

  “—or if you want ritual, Laz and Lor would be delighted to dream up a fancy one—and we can all have a crying jag together—”

  “—and on his wedding night Justin gets to sleep with the babies so he’ll know how serious it is.”

  “Seal it, Galahad. If you want to add that touch, you should make it the night before, so he’ll have a fair chance to back out if he can’t take it.”

  “Lazarus, I volunteer for the diaper watch tonight; I’m hardened to such things.”

  “I doubt if the women will let you.”

  “And you won’t live till morning,” Galahad added. “They’re an emotional lot. Last night you had it easy. Better take the pee watch.”

  “Galahad could be right; I should check your heart. As may be—keep quiet, Galahad—Justin, this household is not a jail. The setup is not only safer for children, it is more flexible for adults. When I asked you whether you intended to go back to Secundus, I meant simply that. An adult can be away for a year, ten years, any length of time for any purpose—and know that the kids are taken care of and know that he-she will be welcomed back. The twins and I have been off-planet several times and will be again. And . . well, you know I intend to attempt this time-tripping experiment. That won’t involve much elapsed time in this framework . . but it does involve a slight element of risk.”

  “ ‘Slight!’ Meaning that Pappy is out of his silly head. Be sure to kiss him good-bye when he leaves, Justin; he won’t be back.”

  I was alarmed to see that Galahad was not joking. Lazarus said quietly, “Galahad, it is all right to say that to me. But don’t say it in front of the women. Or children.” He went on to me, “Of course there is an element of risk; there is in anything. But not to a time trip itself, as Galahad seems to think.” (Galahad shuddered.) “The risk is the same as in visiting any planet; someone there may not like you. But the time jump takes place in the safest possible surroundings: in space with a ship around you—any risk comes later.”

  Lazarus grinned. “That’s why I was so riled at that old cow Arabelle—telling me to go look-see at battles! Justin, the best thing about modern times is that we are all so spread apart that war is no longer practical. But—Did I tell you what I’m going to use as a practice run?”

  “No. I had the impression from Madam Chairman Pro Tem that you already had a perfected technique.”

  “It’s possible that I let her think so.
But Arabelle wouldn’t know an imperial number from an imperial edict; she couldn’t ask the right questions.”

  “I don’t think I could either, Lazarus; it’s not my field of mathematics.”

  “If you’re interested, Dora can teach you—”

  “Or me, Lover Boy.”

  “Or Teena. What’s the idea of calling Justin ‘Lover Boy,’ Teena? Are you trying to seduce him?”

  “No, he’s promised to seduce me . . about a hundred years from now.”

  Lazarus looked at me thoughtfully; I tried to look as if I hadn’t heard the exchange. “Mmm . . maybe you had better take those lessons from Dora, Justin. You haven’t met Dora, but think of her as about eight years old; she won’t try to seduce you. But she’s the brightest computer pilot in space and can teach you more than you want to know about Libby field transformations. I was saying that we felt sure of the theory, but I wanted a separate opinion. So I thought of asking Mary Sperling—”

  I said, “Hold it a moment! Lazarus, in all the Archives there is, I am certain, only one Mary Sperling. I’m descended from her, Tamara is descended from her—”

  “Lots of Howards descended from her, Son; Mary had over thirty children—quite a record for those days.”

  “Then you do mean Elder Mary Sperling, born in 1953 Gregorian, died in—”

  “She did not die, Justin; that’s the point. So I went back there and talked with her.”

  My head felt fuzzy. “Lazarus, I’m confused. Are you telling me that you’ve already made one time trip? Nearly two thousand years? No, I mean ‘over two thousand years’—”

  “Justin, if you’ll keep quiet, I’ll tell you what I mean.”

  “Sorry, sir.”