"Why, it's glass!"
"Yes, of course."
"It must have an amazingly low refractive index."
"I suppose so."
"Look, Dian', I can't see the stuff. Tell me where it is, so I won't bump into it."
"You won't. The garden is laid out to keep you a half meter or so from it and it's quite high enough overhead. The base of it runs all around here"—she indicated most of a semicircle—"From there it arches up to the house. If you look closely you can see the joint of the seal, and there it runs down the rock wall and back to the ground again. It is shaped like a giant bubble."
Perry mused. "Hm—I see. And that's why it doesn't need supports. But how did it get there in the first place?"
"It was blown in place, just like a bubble. It is a bubble. Look, did children blow bubbles when you were young?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever wet a dish or a box or a table top and blow a bubble on it and make it follow a shape you wanted?"
"Yes, yes, I begin to see."
"Well, first they painted the wall and a sheeting on the ground with sticky stuff—bubble mixture, right up to where the bubble is to stop. Then they put their bubble pipe gadget in the middle and commenced to blow. When the bubble just reached the proper size, they stopped."
"It sounds easy the way you tell it."
"It's not very. I watched them do this one and they broke four bubbles before one held up. Then it takes several hours to dry tough, and any little touch can ruin it until it does."
"I don't see yet how you can get glass to behave so."
"It isn't glass—not silicate glass anyhow, but a synthetic plastic glass. One of the technicians said it had molecules like very long chains."
"That's reasonable."
"I wouldn't know, but it's a sticky stuff when they decant it, like a white molasses, but it dries very hard and stiff like glass only it's tough, instead of brittle. It won't shatter and it's very hard to cut or tear."
"Well, it's a grand notion in any case. You know we had patios and outdoor living rooms and pools in gardens in my day, but it was generally too hot or too cold or too windy to enjoy them. And there were always insects; flies, or mosquitoes, or both. In my aunt's patio it was honey bees. It's very disconcerting when you're trying to sunbathe to have bees crawling over you and buzzing around your head."
"Are you sensitive to bee stings, Perry?"
"No. I can handle bees. They don't sting me, but they used to drive my aunt nearly frantic. The poor woman never did get any real pleasure out of her garden. They would sting her and she would swell up like a poisoned pup, and get sick to her stomach. Sad really, she did love her garden so and got so little fun out of it."
"Then why did she keep bees?"
"She didn't. One of her neighbors did."
"But that's not custom—Nevermind. I asked you about bee stings because bees don't sting anymore."
Perry clapped his hand to his brow and gave a look of mock agony. "Enough, woman enough! Tell me no more! No. Stop. One more thing. Answer me this question and I die happy. Do watermelons have seeds?"
"Did they used to have?"
Perry stepped to the edge of the pool, assumed a declamatory pose and orated: "Farewell, sad world. Papa goes to his reward! Sic semper seeds," nipped his nose between thumb and forefinger, shut his eyes tight and jumped feet first into the pool. He came up blowing to find Diana wiping water out of her eyes and laughing hysterically.
"Perry! You're a clown! Stop it!"
He didn't answer but asked solemnly, "Tell me, bird of mournful numbers, do blackberries still have seeds?"
Diana controlled her giggles. "Blackberries have seeds, you idiot."
"That's all I wanted to know." Perry's head disappeared and he gave a creditable imitation of a drowning man, accompanied by glugging sounds. Diana dived in, joined him on the bottom, and tickled him vigorously. Both heads reappeared. Perry coughed and blew.
"Wench, you made me strangle."
"Sorry." But she giggled again.
Some minutes later Perry lay on his side drying off and watching Diana, who was still in the pool. She floated with just her face and the curve of her breast appearing above the water. Her hair formed a halo about her head. The warm sun soaked into their bones and rendered them sluggish and contented. Perry chucked a pebble into the pool. It hit the water with a little chunking sound and splashed a drop on Diana's face. She turned on her side, took two effortless strokes to the side of the pool, and rested her hands on the edge.
Diana cut in. "Are you hungry, fella?"
"Now that you mention it, there does seem to be something missing."
"Then let's eat. No, don't get up. We'll eat out here. It's all ready."
She returned laden with a tray as big as she was. "Perry, you move over into the shade. You haven't the tan I have and I don't want you blistered."
Three-quarters of an hour later, Diana stirred out of a digestive calm. "Before you get back to your studies, I want to have you measured for some clothes."
Perry looked surprised. "Clothes—why, I had gathered the impression that they weren't necessary."
Diana looked puzzled. "You can't stay in the house forever, Perry. It's cold outside. I've planned a little picnic for tomorrow, but we'll have to get you some warm clothes first. And while we're about it, you might as well order some other things that you will need."
"Lead on, McDuff."
Diana selected a combination on the televue. A Semitic gentleman appeared on screen. He rubbed his hands together and smiled. "Ah, Madame, can I do you a service?"
"Thank you; my friend needs some costumes. A heavy and medium snow suit, first, and then some other things."
"Ah, that is fine. We have some new models, very dashing and sooooo practical too. And now will you have him take position?"
Diana nudged Perry into a spot near the televue, then turned the screen so that it faced him. The Semitic gentleman seemed ecstatic. "Ah, yes. A beautiful figure. It is a pleasure to make clothes for a man who can wear them. Wait. Let me think. I have it! I shall create a new model for him. With that proportion of the shoulders and that length of leg—"
Diana cut in. "Not today, thank you. Another time perhaps."
"But Madame, I am an artist, not a businessman."
Diana's lips barely moved. "Don't let him fool you, Perry. He's one part artist and three parts businessman." Then to the televue. "No, we need these clothes today. Please use a stock pattern."
"Service, Madame." He wheeled up a camera-like device somewhat larger than the one used to take Perry's palm print. "Is your friend exactly four meters from the screen?"
"Exactly." He fiddled with the camera.
"Is your screen corrected for angular aberration?"
"Yes." He made an adjustment.
"Now—front view. Very well, right side. Back view, please. Left side. Will you bend over, please? Extend both arms. That's fine. Now raise your knees in succession. That's all." The camera disappeared. "Will you examine materials?"
"No, make them all wool with cellutate lining. How about colors, Perry? Would dark blue suit you?"
"Fine."
"With white piping, perhaps?" The vendor's anxious voice joined them.
"Very well."
Diana also okayed the purchase of a pocket belt with a detachable kilt for travel and general public wear, some sport sandals, and a pair of light slippers for city wear. She firmly vetoed any discussion of ornaments, jewelry, knickknacks, and accessories, and refused to be drawn into considering any feminine frills for herself. The 'artist' finally gave up and the screen went blank. Perry returned to his studies. Record followed record and the afternoon wore away unbeknownst to Perry. Once, Diana came in and changed the position of the screen and propped Perry up on pillows. Later she brought him a cup of tea and a sandwich. Perry hardly noticed the interruptions. He was held by the endless, ultimate drama. Late in the afternoon the last supplement whirred to a stop.
Perry got up and stretched cramped limbs. Diana was not in sight. He looked around, sighed, sat down and lit a cigarette. Presently Diana appeared in the garden door. "How far did you get, Perry?"
"I've been through them once right up to date."
"How about it?"
"Well, I feel for the first time as if I actually were in 2086. It's a lot to swallow at one dose though."
"I've invited an old friend of mine here this evening, Perry. He can help you a lot. He's a Master of History who used to be one of my teachers."
"Say, that's fine. When does he get here?"
"He should be here for dinner. He has to fly over from Berkeley."
Less than an hour later the visitor appeared. He was a thick set man, with broad powerful shoulders. His cranium was large, his eyes deep, his face homely and rugged. He gathered Diana in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet, kissed her on both cheeks, sat her down and started to peel off his flying kit. Perry judged him a well preserved fifty-five or sixty, and noted with interest that he appeared to shave his entire body with the exception of his bushy grey eyebrows. Diana introduced them.
"May I do you a service, my boy." It was more a statement than a question. "Diana has told me something of your case. We should have lots to talk about." His name, it appeared, was Master Cathcart.
Diana insisted on refraining from historical discussion until after dinner. Once it was over however, and Master Cathcart had persuaded a big bowled pipe to burn, he came right to business. "I am to assume, I take it, that you are for all practical purposes an inhabitant of 1939 A.D., well educated in your period, transported by some witchcraft to this period. Very well. You have been studying some records today? Which ones?" Perry ran through the list. "Good enough. Now suppose you summarize briefly what you have learned today and I will explain and amplify and answer questions as best I can."
"Well," replied Perry, "that's a large order but I'll give it a try. At the time of my accident, July 1939, President Franklin D. Roosevelt was in his second term. Congress had adjourned after wrecking most of the President's program. The war in Spain had been won by the fascists. Japan was fighting China and was apparently about to fight Russia. Unemployment and an unbalanced budget were still the main troubles in the United States. 1940 was a presidential year. President Roosevelt was forced to run for a third term through lack of an electable successor to carry on his policies. His nomination by the Democratic convention resulted in the defection of the conservative wing of the party to Republican Party. In the meantime the National Progressives had organized on a nationwide scale and put young Bob LaFollette in the field. The Republicans nominated Senator Vandenburgh. Vandenburgh was elected but polled considerably less than half of the popular vote and failed to get a majorityin either house. His administration was doomed from the start. Very little was done for four years except for a half-hearted attempt to balance the budget by eliminating relief, but riots and hunger marches soon scared Congress into providing more and more for the dole. In the spring of 1944 the death in a plane crash of Mr. Roosevelt demoralized the remnants of the Democratic Party and most of them joined the Republicans or the Progressives. The Democrats adjourned their convention without naming a candidate. The Progressives named LaGuardia, the fiery little Mayor of New York, while the Republicans after many ballots picked Senator Malone. President Vandenburgh was as thoroughly discredited by circumstances he did not understand and could not control as President Hoover before him. Senator Malone was a mid-western politician, a typical demagogue of my period, if I'm any judge. The recordings show him red-faced and raucous, a man of the people. Malone ran on a platform of blaming everything on Europe and the radicals. He demanded instant payment of the war debts, which were pretty silly since the second European war was already on. He called for the outlawing of the Communist Party, protection of the American home, and a return to rationalism in education which he defined as readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmetic and a particularly offensive jingoistic patriotism. He advocated deportation of all aliens, laws to prevent women from holding men's jobs, and protection of the morals of the young. He promised to restore prosperity and promised everyone the 'American' standard of living. And he won, by a narrow vote in the electoral college . LaGuardia said afterwards that since Malone had promised them the moon, all he could offer was the moon with whipped cream, which didn't seem practical to LaGuardia.
"Once in office Malone ran things with a high hand. Congress was willing in the first session to pass almost any law he desired. One of the most important was the Public Safety bill which was in effect a gag for the press and other means of public information. Inasmuch as it was first used to suppress news of labor troubles which resulted from the discontinuance of the dole, the capital controlled press submitted to it without really knowing what they were in for. Then a law was passed which greatly increased the scope of the G-men or Federal enforcement agents and making them directly responsible to the chief executive. Malone staffed these expanded and greatly changed corps from his home state political machine. In the meantime, in spite of his controlled press, the people were getting restless. Even those who were still economically fairly comfortable had had swarms of the hungry, dispossessed, and unemployed turned loose on them. Malone was apparently afraid to chance another election, even a mid-term. Perhaps he never intended to. In any case he declared a state of emergency, using the mobs of unemployed as an excuse, and took over the internal civil government as an absolute dictator. He used the army and navy to quell any local difficulties. With his new secret service and control over the means of communication and propaganda this was feasible. By the way, the record states that he was able to use the army and navy to destroy the democratic form of government. I find that hard to believe, Master Cathcart. You see I was in the navy myself and I don't believe that the American Services were fascist minded. How do you account for it?"
"I'm glad you brought up that point, Perry. It seems likely that Malone had planned this from the very first. At least he anticipated having to use the military against the people. His technique was simple and almost foolproof. His information service inquired into the political sympathies and economic status of every officer in the fleet and in the army. Whenever an officer was definitely determined to be liberal and democratic, he was not removed or even framed in a court martial. Malone was subtle. Each such officer was transferred as soon as located to a non-combatant assignment; recruiting officer, Reserve Officer's Training Corps instructor, inspector of supplies, War College, Naval and Military Academies, and so forth. Whenever an officer was determined to be definitely militaristic, jingoistic, a potential sadist, he was placed in a key position over forces actually ready to exert armed force. To a lesser extent the enlisted men were weeded out. When he was ready to strike he had behind him a military machine he could bend to his purpose."
"But how about the National Guard?"
"Oh, that was more difficult at first glance. But the federal government owned and controlled the arms used by the Guard. Under the guise of replacement practically all of the ammunition in the hands of the guards was called in during the week before his coup. Of course had it been realized that all the ammunition in all units of the Guard was being called in at once, it would have caused trouble, but control of the nation's communication services plus the fact that each separate order was classed as a confidential military order enabled him to get away with it."
"That clears up my difficulty," said Perry, "I thought there was something fishy about it. If I remember, this dictatorship or inter-regnum, as the record referred to it, lasted only about three years. Malone was assassinated by one of his own henchmen in 1950. The commentator seemed to think that the regime was essentially unstable and would have broken down anyway very shortly. In any case Malone's assassination was the signal for an uprising all over the country. Inside of three weeks Malone's bullies had been killed or driven into hiding. The man who had been governor of Michigan at the beginning of the inter-regnum calle
d all of the governors together. They selected one of the number as President Pro Tem and set a date for a general election. LaGuardia was elected. He served two terms."
"Very clear," put in Cathcart, "now let's talk about the rest of the world for a while. It was during Vandenburgh's administration that the second European war ran its course. With the collapse of the loyalists in Spain, the fascist states were ready to take on the democracies. France was torn with internal dissension and strikes. The Conservative Party was in power in England and apparently committed to a do-nothing policy. The Fascist powers struck, but the first world war was repeated. The democracies failed to fold up although they lost battle after battle. The end came, not through the intervention of the United States—Vandenburgh had no stomach for that—but through the economic collapse of Germany. She had entered this war in a physical condition much poorer than that of 1914 and she couldn't stand a long war."
"What happened to the dictators?"
"Adolf Hitler committed suicide by shooting himself in the roof of the mouth. Mussolini got out much more gracefully. He submitted his resignation to the king he had kept around during his entire tenure and the king appointed a new prime minister, a social democrat. But to my mind the most interesting thing about the peace was the peculiar terms of the peace treaty."
"Some sort of a league of nations, all over again wasn't it?"
"Yes, and no. A very brilliant young Frenchman, a descendant of LaFayette, argued that a continental government or federation was necessary if a lasting peace was to come, and argued further that a constitutional monarchy was the most stable form under which free men could live. And so the United Europe was created. But the romantic part is the man who was chosen to head this polyglot creation. The Hapsburgs and the Hohenzollerns were out for obvious reasons of bad blood and bad records. The English king was suggested but he aroused no enthusiasm, being rather negative in character and further handicapped by his shyness and speech impediments. None of the pretenders in exile had any real following. But one prince was available, who had long before captured the world's imagination. Edward, Duke of Windsor, who had abdicated the British throne in 1936 rather than accept the complete domination of his prime minister, became the choice."
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