Mission: Tomorrow

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  “And against our right to exist,” the dark-haired young woman said.

  “What’s that?” Adrian asked.

  “What do you think will happen to us if you get out of this wormhole?” the spokesman asked.

  Adrian was silent.

  “We won’t exist.”

  “What kind of existence is that?” Adrian asked finally. “What is life without memory? What is existence without cause and effect?”

  “The only kind we know,” the bitter young man said.

  “We are your children,” the spokesman said. “You brought us into this world, crazy as it seems to you. But it’s our world, and you owe us.”

  “He also owes the rest of us,” a woman said from the door. It was Frances. “And the species. If you’re more than illusions, you’ll be born at the right time in the right place. But now—be gone. You’re nothing but a pack of possibilities.”

  The five turned toward her, frightened and uncertain, and disappeared like snowflakes evaporating before they hit the ground, leaving their potentials etched into the air.

  Adrian rubbed his forehead. “They were so—real. So like the children the crew might have had—might have. Our language wasn’t meant for in here.”

  “One of them looked like Jessica,” Frances said.

  “And another one—” Adrian began and stopped.

  “What?”

  Adrian looked into one of the darkened vision screens. There were no mirrors in the control room, but he could see his reflection. He knew who the spokesman for the group looked like.

  He looked like Adrian.

  A familiar figure with a familiar walk and a familiar look to the back of the head turned at the far end of the corridor and, before Adrian could speak, disappeared down the side corridor that led toward the mess hall. It was a man. Adrian was sure of that. “Hey!” he called out, but by the time he reached the corridor it was empty. Only Frances was in the mess hall, cleaning the table that doubled for conferences, and she looked puzzled when he asked if anyone had just come in or passed.

  But when Adrian returned to the corridor leading back toward the control room, he saw the same figure in front of him. He ran toward it, but it got farther away the faster he ran. By the time he got to the control room, it was empty. He went back down the corridor, trying to figure out what it meant. When he turned to look behind, he saw the back of the figure again, still moving away. This time Adrian turned and went the other direction, and came face to face with the man just outside the mess hall.

  “Adrian!” they each said. Then, “I don’t believe it!”

  “We’d better speak one at a time,” Adrian said.

  “I agree,” Adrian said.

  “We’ve got to decide, first, who’s the real Adrian and who is the doppelganger,” Adrian said.

  “I’m real,” they said together.

  “Look,” Adrian said, “this isn’t getting us anywhere. I’ll tell you what. As Frances would say, ‘If you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you.’”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Adrian said. “Maybe this is the opportunity we’ve been looking for—to find a way out of this place. Let’s go in here and talk about it.”

  Adrian nodded. “We can put our heads together.”

  And Adrian added, “Two heads are better than one.”

  When they entered the tiny mess hall, Frances was gone. Adrian didn’t think enough time had passed for Frances to have completed her cleanup and departed. He didn’t know whether that meant he was in his doppelganger’s reality or whether it was another example of the wormhole’s vagaries.

  “Obviously,” Adrian said, seating himself on a stool at the table, “the time variables have us tied up.”

  “Obviously,” Adrian said, leaning back against one of the microwaves, not wanting to put himself in a mirror-image position. “But what isn’t obvious is what we’re going to do about the fact that we only remember what happens later.”

  “That’s true,” Adrian said. “So the secret is to prepare later for what we need to know earlier.”

  Adrian nodded. “I’ve thought of that. At least, I think I’ve thought of that. The difficult part is remembering that we have to store information for earlier use.”

  “We have to come to that realization independently, every time. We have to learn to think differently, just as we have to learn to think differently about Jessica and Frances.”

  “What do you mean?” Adrian asked.

  “It’s clear to me, and it should be clear to you, that both Jessica and Frances are fond of us.”

  “And I’m fond of them,” Adrian said.

  “One, or maybe both, are going to want that relationship to get even closer.”

  Adrian nodded. “That’s an uncomfortable thought, but if it happens I will have to handle it.”

  “When we ‘handle it,’ as you say, we will have to think in unaccustomed ways.”

  “I know,” Adrian said.

  “I don’t mean just the business of allowing emotional involvement, even intimacy, but the possibility of sharing, or being shared.”

  Adrian took a deep breath. “I understand you. What am I saying? I am you.”

  “In the same way,” Adrian said, “we are going to have to think about our physical predicament in unconventional ways. Logic doesn’t work.”

  “We’ll have to try illogic,” Adrian said. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already tried it. I caught up with you by going the other way.”

  “I was the one who caught up with you,” Adrian said and then waved his hand. “No matter. We’ll have to think impossible things.”

  “As Frances would say, ‘I can’t believe impossible things.’”

  “‘I daresay you haven’t had much practice,’” Adrian continued. “‘When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.’”

  Adrian moved from in front of the microwaves. “I’m glad we had this meeting, even though it was a bit of a shock.” He didn’t offer to shake hands with the other Adrian. That would have been too much. “But I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

  He went through the doorway into the corridor. This time he didn’t look back.

  They all knew it was time to act. Jessica looked at Adrian, Adrian looked at Frances, Frances looked at Jessica. They had been in the wormhole too long. None of them knew how long it had been: days, weeks, maybe even years. But they knew that if they didn’t do something soon, they would never get out.

  Jessica looked at the gyrating readouts on the control panel. “We have to know what is going on outside,” she said.

  “None of our instruments work,” Adrian said. “Or if they work, they aren’t recording.”

  “We could turn on the viewscreens,” Frances said.

  “We’ve tried that. All we see is glare,” Jessica said.

  “That’s the cosmic microwave background boosted into visible light,” Adrian said.

  “I think the viewscreens are as unreliable as the readouts,” Jessica said. “We try to cut back on the light, and the screens go black. Somebody has to go outside and report.”

  Adrian nodded. “I agree. And I’m the only one who is capable of making sense of what is happening. I’ll get ready.”

  “You can’t be spared,” Frances said. Her face had that “there’s no use arguing with me” look.

  “Frances is right,” Jessica said. “I’m the most experienced in working on the outside, the youngest, the most athletic, the steadiest—”

  “You can’t be spared either,” Frances said. “You’re young, all right, and you have a life ahead of you if we ever get to a place where you can live it. That leaves me.”

  “There’s radiation out there,” Adrian said. “God knows what. Even if it isn’t fatal, whoever goes out there is going to take a lot of damage.”

  “Besides,” Jessica said, “you get sick just turning your head quickly.”

/>   “I can do this,” Frances said. “I can do whatever I have to do. And you’ve got a young body and young ova—all that needs to be preserved if we’re going to have a future.” She stood in front of them both, in the control room, square and ready.

  “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?” Jessica asked.

  Frances shook her head. “In a movie you’d hit me on the head and take my place, but this isn’t a movie, and it isn’t going to happen.”

  “I’m glad you know the difference,” Adrian said. “No heroism.”

  “Just common sense,” Frances said. “Now I need some help in getting into a suit.” She smiled at her admission of inadequacy.

  Spacesuits had not been built for someone as short and wide as Frances, but a man’s suit had been adapted by removing sections of the leg and welding the remaining pieces together. That didn’t help Frances’s agility, but then she hadn’t used the suit much. Now she struggled into it, and Jessica checked all the closures twice.

  “Don’t stay out there more than a minute or two,” Jessica said, “and don’t try to do more than a simple survey. Be sure to snap yourself to the interior hook and make certain your magnet is firmly attached to the outer hull before you—”

  “Hush,” Frances said. “You’re only making me nervous.”

  She turned and hit the large button beside the inner hatch. It cycled open as Frances turned, patted Jessica’s shoulder with her glove, and touched Adrian’s hand. She adjusted her helmet and stepped over the sill into the airlock.

  Jessica spoke into her head-held microphone. “Can you hear me? Be sure you keep your mike open all the time. I’m going to suit up so that I can come out and get you if you’re in trouble.”

  Frances shook her head inside the helmet as she pushed the inner button and the door began to close. “We don’t want to lose two of us,” she said. “Don’t worry. If I don’t get back, it’s been a great run.” But her face looked pale before the door completely closed. “I’m opening the outer hatch. God, it’s bright out here!”

  Jessica looked at Adrian, and Adrian looked back, but their thoughts were outside. “What’s going on?” Adrian asked.

  “I’m darkening my face plate. There, that’s better.”

  “What can you see?” Jessica asked.

  “Wait a minute. I feel a little sick. There’s nothing to look at.”

  “Frances!” Jessica said. “Look at the airlock. Look down at your feet. Then look at the ship. Orient yourself to the ship!”

  “Got it!” Frances said. “The ship seems to be moving. I can see some kind of disturbance in the glare that might be exhaust, so the engine is still operating, but we knew that, since we’ve had gravity.”

  “Which way are we going?” Adrian asked.

  “Hard to say,” Frances said. “There seems to be a dark place in the glare.”

  “Which direction?” Adrian asked.

  “Toward the rear of the ship,” Frances said triumphantly. “Where the anti-matter stuff comes out.”

  “That must be the mouth of the wormhole where we entered,” Adrian said.

  “That’s enough,” Jessica said. “Come in.”

  “Not yet,” Frances said. “I’m looking around while I’m here.”

  “Don’t look around!” Jessica said.

  “Funny stuff out here,” Frances said. “A weird-looking contraption just went by. All twisted pipes and girders. Speak of ships that pass in the night!”

  “You’re not doing us any good out there,” Adrian said.

  “There’s another ship, or vehicle, or something,” Frances said. “Only it’s like a stack of waffles with a flagpole through the middle.”

  “Frances!” Jessica said. “You’re making us nervous.”

  “Goodness knows, you’ve made me nervous often enough,” Frances said. “There’s an alien, I think. A creature of some sort with tentacles. And one shaped like a cone with eyes. And another, and another!”

  “You’re losing touch!” Adrian said. “Come back! Now!”

  “There’s the Mad Hatter!” Frances shouted. “And Humpty Dumpty. And the caterpillar smoking the water pipe. And the Queen!”

  “Come back!” Jessica said softly. “Come back, Frances!”

  “Off with their heads!” Frances said.

  Adrian looked at Jessica. She turned and began climbing into her spacesuit.

  “Remember,” Frances said, “you have to run twice as fast as that!”

  Something clanged from outside the ship, like a magnet being freed and metal-shod feet pushing against the hull.

  Jessica stopped halfway into her suit. “I knew I should have gone,” she said.

  Adrian shook his head. “There’s no way we can go faster,” he said. “But maybe we can make Frances’s sacrifice meaningful.” He didn’t know how that was going to happen, but, as unshed tears burned his eyes, he knew he would make it happen.

  Jessica slapped the viewscreens back on and let the glare fill the control room. “We’ve got to do something. Frances has—is going to—oh, I don’t know what the right tense is. But she has given us all the information we’re likely to get, and she’s dead—surely she’s dead.”

  “There’s not much doubt about that,” Adrian said. “We’re remembering things that have yet to happen, including things that might happen, and we’ve got all the memories of what has yet to happen that we’re likely ever to get.”

  “Even though we’ve just entered the wormhole,” Jessica said.

  Adrian nodded. “That’s the funny way time works in here. Now we know but later on we’ll forget. So we’ve got to do it now.”

  “Frances said we had to run twice as fast,” Jessica said.

  “And I said there was no way to do that,” Adrian said, “or any reason to think going twice as fast would get us anywhere.” He looked around at the control room. In spite of the glare, for the first time he was seeing things clearly: Frances, Jessica, the aliens and their plans. “We’ve been trying to reconcile the unreconcilables, the time anomalies, or own inability to adjust to inversions and potentials.”

  Jessica looked at him hopefully, the way an apprentice looked at her master, anticipating wisdom.

  “We’ve got to turn the ship around,” Adrian said. He turned to the controls. “Go back the way we came. If we were in real space, we’d have to decelerate for as long as we’ve accelerated, but this is hyperspace and we haven’t moved far from where we entered.”

  “Let me do it,” Jessica said. She began punching instructions into the computer. “But isn’t that just giving up?”

  “Maybe,” Adrian said. He tried to isolate a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was giving up. “Logically we should come out the way we came in, and then everything will have been for nothing—all our psychological torment, the felt years of experience, Frances’s sacrifice—”

  “But maybe not?” Jessica said.

  Adrian could feel the ship swinging even though there was nothing to see, no way to get information from gauges, nothing but glare. . . .

  Something surged.

  Conflicting gravities tugged at their bodies, as if all their loose parts wanted to go in different directions, as if their internal organs were changing places. . . . Then the glare and the gravity fluctuations stopped suddenly. Adrian and Jessica looked at each other, remembering everything that had happened or might have happened inside the wormhole. They turned to look at the viewscreens. The glare was gone. Outside was the blackness of space with here and there the pinpoint hole of a star. It could have been anywhere in the galaxy including back near the spot from which they had been drawn into the wormhole.

  Jessica adjusted the controls and new arenas of space swam into view. The stars were few and distant. A single star loomed closest, but it was old and faint.

  “That isn’t our Solar System,” Jessica said. “That isn’t our sun.”

  Adrian shook his head. “Wherever we were going, we’ve arrived.�
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  “How did you figure it out?” Jessica asked.

  “If time was inverted,” Adrian said, “maybe space was, too. In order to get out, we had to reverse our course. But then, I had some help.” He thought about the other Adrian, who now would never exist, except maybe in the never-never world of the wormhole, and how he had caught up with him only when he went the other way. But maybe that never-never existence, like that of the children and maybe even of Cavendish, was as real as any other. “Maybe I’ll tell you some time.

  “Meanwhile,” he continued, “I think we have managed our rite of passage and have a rendezvous with destiny.”

  “Whatever that means,” Jessica said.

  Adrian smiled at her. There would be great moments ahead, he thought, and moments of tenderness and fulfillment and maybe distress and regret and pain. But it would be living.

  He heard a noise behind him and turned toward the entrance.

  “Frances?” he said. “Frances?”

  James Gunn has had a career divided between writing and teaching, typified by his service as president of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America and as president of the Science Fiction Research Association, as well as having been presented the Grand Master Award of SFWA and the Pilgrim Award of SFRA. He now is Emeritus Professor of English at the University of Kansas and continues to write.

  He has published more than 100 short stories and has written or edited 42 books, including The Immortals, The Listeners, The Dreamers, Alternate Worlds: The Illustrated History of Science Ficton, The Road to Science Fiction, and, most recently, Transcendental and its sequel, Transgalactic. “The Rabbit Hole” was originally published in Analog and is the central portion of the novel Gift from the Stars.

  Next, a Chinese taikonaut encounters a strange vessel and finds herself dealing with Ben Bova’s irascible scoundrel, Sam Gunn, in . . .

  RARE (OFF) EARTH ELEMENTS

  (A SAM GUNN TALE)

  by Ben Bova

  You must understand that it all happened many years ago, when I was very young and inexperienced in the ways of the world.