Project Mastodon

by Clifford D. Simak

  "That contention," said the AEC chairman, "wouldn't hold true inevery case. Quite the reverse, in fact. We know that there was, insome geologic ages in the past, a great deal more uranium than wehave today. Go back far enough and you'd catch that uranium beforeit turned into lead. In southwestern Wisconsin, there is a lot oflead. Hudson told us he knew the location of vast uranium depositsand we thought he was a crackpot talking through his hat. If we'dknown--let's be fair about this--if we had known and believed himabout going back in time, we'd have snapped him up at once and allthis would not have happened."

  "It wouldn't hold true with forests, either," said the chairman ofthe JCS. "Or with pastures or with crops."

  The economics expert was slightly flushed. "There is anotherthing," he said. "If we go back in time and colonize the land wefind there, what would happen when that--well, let's call itretroactive--when that retroactive civilization reaches thebeginning of our historic period? What will result from thatcultural collision? Will our history change? Is what has happenedfalse? Is all--"

  "That's all poppycock!" the general shouted. "That and this othertalk about using up resources. Whatever we did in the past--or areabout to do--has been done already. I've lain awake nights,mister, thinking about all these things and there is no answer,believe me, except the one I give you. The question which faces ushere is an immediate one. Do we give all this up or do we keep onwatching that Wisconsin farm, waiting for them to come back? Do wekeep on trying to find, independently, the process or formula ormethod that Adams found for traveling in time?"

  "We've had no luck in our research so far, General," said thequiet physicist who sat at the table's end. "If you were not sosure and if the evidence were not so convincing that it had beendone by Adams, I'd say flatly that it is impossible. We have noapproach which holds any hope at all. What we've done so far, youmight best describe as flounder. But if Adams turned the trick, itmust be possible. There may be, as a matter of fact, more waysthan one. We'd like to keep on trying."

  "Not one word of blame has been put on you for your failure," thechairman told the physicist. "That you could do it seems to bemore than can be humanly expected. If Adams did it--_if_ he did, Isay--it must have been simply that he blundered on an avenue ofresearch no other man has thought of."

  "You will recall," said the general, "that the research program,even from the first, was thought of strictly as a gamble. Our onehope was, and must remain, that they will return."

  "It would have been so much simpler all around," the statedepartment man said, "if Adams had patented his method."

  The general raged at him. "And had it published, all neat andorderly, in the patent office records so that anyone who wanted itcould look it up and have it?"

  "We can be most sincerely thankful," said the chairman, "that hedid not patent it."

  VI

  The helicopter would never fly again, but the time unit wasintact.

  Which didn't mean that it would work.

  They held a powwow at their camp site. It had been, they decided,simpler to move the camp than to remove the body of Old Buster. Sothey had shifted at dawn, leaving the old mastodon still sprawledacross the helicopter.

  In a day or two, they knew, the great bones would be cleanlypicked by the carrion birds, the lesser cats, the wolves and foxesand the little skulkers.

  Getting the time unit out of the helicopter had been quite achore, but they finally had managed and now Adams sat with itcradled in his lap.

  "The worst of it," he told them, "is that I can't test it. There'sno way to. You turn it on and it works or it doesn't work. Youcan't know till you try."

  "That's something we can't help," Cooper replied. "The problem,seems to me, is how we're going to use it without the whirlybird."

  "We have to figure out some way to get up in the air," said Adams."We don't want to take the chance of going up into the twentiethcentury and arriving there about six feet underground."

  "Common sense says that we should be higher here than up ahead,"Hudson pointed out. "These hills have stood here since Jurassictimes. They probably were a good deal higher then and haveweathered down. That weathering still should be going on. So weshould be higher here than in the twentieth century--not much,perhaps, but higher."

  "Did anyone ever notice what the altimeter read?" asked Cooper.

  "I don't believe I did," Adams admitted.

  "It wouldn't tell you, anyhow," Hudson declared. "It would justgive our height then and now--and we were moving, remember--andwhat about air pockets and relative atmosphere density and all therest?"

  Cooper looked as discouraged as Hudson felt.

  "How does this sound?" asked Adams. "We'll build a platform twelvefeet high. That certainly should be enough to clear us and yetsmall enough to stay within the range of the unit's force-field."

  "And what if we're two feet higher here?" Hudson pointed out.

  "A fall of fourteen feet wouldn't kill a man unless he's plainunlucky."

  "It might break some bones."

  "So it might break some bones. You want to stay here or take achance on a broken leg?"

  "All right, if you put it that way. A platform, you say. Aplatform out of what?"

  "Timber. There's lot of it. We just go out and cut some logs."

  "A twelve-foot log is heavy. And how are we going to get that biga log uphill?"

  "We drag it."

  "We try to, you mean."

  "Maybe we could fix up a cart," said Adams, after thinking amoment.

  "Out of what?" Cooper asked.

  "Rollers, maybe. We could cut some and roll the logs up here."

  "That would work on level ground," Hudson said. "It wouldn't workto roll a log uphill. It would get away from us. Someone might getkilled."

  "The logs would have to be longer than twelve feet, anyhow,"Cooper put in. "You'd have to set them in a hole and that takesaway some footage."

  "Why not the tripod principle?" Hudson offered. "Fasten three logsat the top and raise them."

  "That's a gin-pole, a primitive derrick. It'd still have to belonger than twelve feet. Fifteen, sixteen, maybe. And how are wegoing to hoist three sixteen-foot logs? We'd need a block andtackle."

  "There's another thing," said Cooper. "Part of those logs mightjust be beyond the effective range of the force-field. Part ofthem would have to--_have to_, mind you--move in time and partcouldn't. That would set up a stress...."

  "Another thing about it," added Hudson, "is that we'd travel withthe logs. I don't want to come out in another time with a bunch oflogs flying all around me."

  "Cheer up," Adams told them. "Maybe the unit won't work, anyhow."

  VII

  The general sat alone in his office and held his head between hishands. The fools, he thought, the goddam knuckle-headed fools! Whycouldn't they see it as clearly as he did?

  For fifteen years now, as head of Project Mastodon, he had livedwith it night and day and he could see all the possibilitiesas clearly as if they had been actual fact. Not militarypossibilities alone, although as a military man, he naturallywould think of those first.

  The hidden bases, for example, located within the very strongholdsof potential enemies--within, yet centuries removed in time. Manycenturies removed and only seconds distant.

  He could see it all: The materialization of the fleets; the swift,devastating blow, then the instantaneous retreat into thefastnesses of the past. Terrific destruction, but not a ship lostnor a man.

  Except that if you had the bases, you need never strike the blow.If you had the bases and let the enemy know you had them, therewould never be the provocation.

  And on the home front, you'd have air-raid shelters that would beeffective. You'd evacuate your population not in space, but time.You'd have the sure and absolute defense against any kind ofbombing--fission, fusion, bacteriological or whatever else thelabs had in stock.

  And if the worst should come--which it never would with a setuplike that--you'd have a place to which the
entire nation couldretreat, leaving to the enemy the empty, blasted cities and thelethally dusted countryside.

  Sanctuary--that had been what Hudson had offered thethen-secretary of state fifteen years ago--and the idiot hadfrozen up with the insult of it and had Hudson thrown out.

  And if war did not come, think of the living space and the vastnew opportunities--not the least of which would be the opportunityto achieve peaceful living in a virgin world, where the oldhatreds would slough off and new concepts have a chance to grow.

  He wondered where they were, those three who had gone back intotime. Dead, perhaps. Run down by a mastodon. Or stalked by tigers.Or maybe done in by warlike tribesmen. No, he kept forgettingthere weren't any in that era. Or trapped in time, unable to getback, condemned to exile in an alien time. Or maybe, he thought,just plain disgusted. And he couldn't blame them if they were.

  Or maybe--let's be fantastic about this--sneaking in colonistsfrom some place other than the watched Wisconsin farm, building upin actuality the nation they had claimed to be.

  They had to get back to the present soon or Project Mastodon wouldbe killed entirely. Already the research program had been haltedand if something didn't happen quickly, the watch that was kept onthe Wisconsin farm would be called off.

  "And if they do that," said the general, "I know just what I'lldo."

  He got up and strode around the room.

  "By God," he said, "I'll show 'em!"

  VIII

  It had taken ten full days of back-breaking work to build thepyramid. They'd hauled the rocks from the creek bed half a mileaway and had piled them, stone by rolling stone, to the height ofa full twelve feet. It took a lot of rocks and a lot of patience,for as the pyramid went up, the base naturally kept broadeningout.

  But now all was finally ready.

  Hudson sat before the burned-out campfire and held his blisteredhands before him.

  It should work, he thought, better than the logs--and lessdangerous.

  Grab a handful of sand. Some trickled back between your fingers,but most stayed in your grasp. That was the principle of thepyramid of stones. When--and if--the time machine should work,most of the rocks would go along.

  Those that didn't go would simply trickle out and do no harm.There'd be no stress or strain to upset the working of theforce-field.

  And if the time unit didn't work?

  Or if it did?

  This was the end of the dream, thought Hudson, no matter how youlooked at it.

  For even if they did get back to the twentieth century, therewould be no money and with the film lost and no other taken toreplace it, they'd have no proof they had traveled back beyond thedawn of history--back almost to the dawn of Man.

  Although how far you traveled would have no significance. An houror a million years would be all the same; if you could span thehour, you could span the million years. And if you could go backthe million years, it was within your power to go back to thefirst tick of eternity, the first stir of time across the face ofemptiness and nothingness--back to that initial instant whennothing as yet had happened or been planned or thought, when allthe vastness of the Universe was a new slate waiting the firstchalk stroke of destiny.

  Another helicopter would cost thirty thousand dollars--and theydidn't even have the money to buy the tractor that they needed tobuild the stockade.

  There was no way to borrow. You couldn't walk into a bank and sayyou wanted thirty thousand to take a trip back to the Old StoneAge.

  You still could go to some industry or some university or thegovernment and if you could persuade them you had something on theball--why, then, they might put up the cash after cuttingthemselves in on just about all of the profits. And, naturally,they'd run the show because it was their money and all you haddone was the sweating and the bleeding.

  "There's one thing that still bothers me," said Cooper, breakingthe silence. "We spent a lot of time picking our spot so we'd missthe barn and house and all the other buildings...."

  "Don't tell me the windmill!" Hudson cried.

  "No. I'm pretty sure we're clear of that. But the way I figure,we're right astraddle that barbed-wire fence at the south end ofthe orchard."

  "If you want, we could move the pyramid over twenty feet or so."

  Cooper groaned. "I'll take my chances with the fence." Adams gotto his feet, the time unit tucked underneath his arm. "Come on,you guys. It's time to go."

  They climbed the pyramid gingerly and stood unsteadily at its top.

  Adams shifted the unit around, clasped it to his chest.

  "Stand around close," he said, "and bend your knees a little. Itmay be quite a drop."

  "Go ahead," said Cooper. "Press the button."

  Adams pressed the button.

  Nothing happened.

  The unit didn't work.

  IX

  The chief of Central Intelligence was white-lipped when hefinished talking.

  "You're sure of your information?" asked the President.

  "Mr. President," said the CIA chief, "I've never been more sure ofanything in my entire life."

  The President looked at the other two who were in the room, aquestion in his eyes.

  The JCS chairman said, "It checks, sir, with everything we know."

  "But it's incredible!" the President said.

  "They're afraid," said the CIA chief. "They lie awake nights.They've become convinced that we're on the verge of traveling intime. They've tried and failed, but they think we're near success.To their way of thinking, they've got to hit us now or never,because once we actually get time travel, they know their number'sup."

  "But we dropped Project Mastodon entirely almost three years ago.It's been all of ten years since we stopped the research. It wastwenty-five years ago that Hudson--"

  "That makes no difference, sir. They're convinced we dropped theproject publicly, but went underground with it. That would be thekind of strategy they could understand."

  The President picked up a pencil and doodled on a pad.

  "Who was that old general," he asked, "the one who raised so muchfuss when we dropped the project? I remember I was in the Senatethen. He came around to see me."

  "Bowers, sir," said the JCS chairman.

  "That's right. What became of him?"

  "Retired."

  "Well, I guess it doesn't make any difference now." He doodledsome more and finally said, "Gentlemen, it looks like this is it.How much time did you say we had?"

  "Not more than ninety days, sir. Maybe as little as thirty."

  The President looked up at the JCS chairman.

  "We're as ready," said the chairman, "as we will ever be. We canhandle them--I think. There will, of course, be some--"

  "I know," said the President.

  "Could we bluff?" asked the secretary of state, speaking quietly."I know it wouldn't stick, but at least we might buy some time."

  "You mean hint that we have time travel?"

  The secretary nodded.

  "It wouldn't work," said the CIA chief tiredly. "If we really hadit, there'd be no question then. They'd become exceedinglywell-mannered, even neighborly, if they were sure we had it."

  "But we haven't got it," said the President gloomily.

  X

  The two hunters trudged homeward late in the afternoon, with adeer slung from a pole they carried on their shoulders. Theirbreath hung visibly in the air as they walked along, for the frosthad come and any day now, they knew, there would be snow.

  "I'm worried about Wes," said Cooper, breathing heavily. "He'staking this too hard. We got to keep an eye on him."

  "Let's take a rest," panted Hudson.

  They halted and lowered the deer to the ground.

  "He blames himself too much," said Cooper. He wiped his sweatyforehead. "There isn't any need to. All of us walked into thiswith our eyes wide open."

  "He's kidding himself and he knows it, but it gives him somethingto go on. As long as he can keep busy with all his putteringaround, he
'll be all right."

  "He isn't going to repair the time unit, Chuck."

  "I know he isn't. And he knows it, too. He hasn't got the tools orthe materials. Back in the workshop, he might have a chance, buthere he hasn't."

  "It's rough on him."

  "It's rough on all of us."

  "Yes, but we didn't get a brainstorm that marooned two old friendsin this tail end of nowhere. And we can't make him swallow it whenwe say that it's okay, we don't mind at all."

  "That's a lot to swallow, Johnny."

  "What's going to happen to us, Chuck?"

  "We've got ourselves a place to live and there's lots to eat. Saveour ammo for the big game--a lot of eating for each bullet--andtrap the smaller animals."

  "I'm wondering what will happen when the flour and all the otherstuff is gone. We don't have too much of it because we alwaysfigured we could bring in more."

  "We'll live on meat," said Hudson. "We got bison by the million.The plains Indians lived on them alone. And in the spring, we'llfind roots and in the summer berries. And in the fall, we'llharvest a half-dozen kinds of nuts."

  "Some day our ammo will be gone, no matter how careful we are withit."

  "Bows and arrows. Slingshots. Spears."

  "There's a lot of beasts here I wouldn't want to stand up to withnothing but a spear."

  "We won't stand up to them. We'll duck when we can and run when wecan't duck. Without our guns, we're no lords of creation--not inthis place. If we're going to live, we'll have to recognize thatfact."