Once Upon a Future

by Robert Reginald (ed)

  “Elaborate on it.”

  “On our way to the space-port I tried to tell him what was eating me. ‘Do you know what this region was called hundreds of years ago?’ I asked. He shook his head. ‘The Amazonian Jungle. In the middle of nature, in an almost unimaginable variety, survived communities of primitive humans, perfectly adapted to the ecosystem, but with no relation to civilization whatsoever.’ Axel took his time, trying no doubt to get the full meaning of my words: ‘Grig, could you think or feel like a savage?’ I burst out laughing, but he went on as seriously as before: ‘Tell me, could you analyze the reactions, the philosophy of life, and the evolution of such a community?’ ‘Well, I could come up with a few general characteristics, but I don’t think they’d be much use. Assumptions, basically.’ ‘What about the android community? You could start from the fact that we were the perfect pattern for them.’ ‘And what if their evolutionary program had taken another direction?’ ‘You mean they could have looked for patterns elsewhere? In the history of mankind, for instance?’ Axel was smiling, pleased to have gotten the idea. ‘Come to think of it,’ he went on, ‘last night I found out their numerous travels into the past actually exhausted the energy of the Space City. The androids used ships to explore Terra in the 2000s.’ ‘But didn’t they break the non-intervention law?’ ‘They did. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here now.’ ‘Or maybe that’s why we’re here now,’ I said looking at Axel and fully enjoying my reply. ‘Forget it. Going back in time is strictly informational,’ he said after a moment of hesitation. ‘It helps to record history correctly, that’s all. But I quite agree with you: they researched Otis’s activity, hoping to find some ideas that the scientist hadn’t had the time to turn to good account, something they could use.”

  “Do you think Axel was opposing the Planetary Council’s decision?” the jurist asked.

  “I don’t know…maybe he was. Axel was right, to a certain extent.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “At the space-port, a lens-shaped ship was to take us to one of the LaGrange libration points, about one and a half million miles from Terra. Time transfer was safer and more economical from there. The Space City lay at such a point too. After the transfer, we were to re-enter Terra’s atmosphere and fly over Australia at 5 p.m., October 12, 2071. We had chosen from the memoscope one of Otis’s kangaroo hunting parties that was ideal for observation: an isolated place, a small group of hunters, with minimum risk for breaking the non-intervention law. Hiding somewhere close or above the clouds, we could register the sounds and images of several cubic feet of space around the scientist. There wasn’t much to discover, actually, but by doing what the androids had done so thoroughly, we did hope to find something worth the trouble.”

  The jurist couldn’t hide his impatience and urged Grig to skip speculation.

  “Then we landed,” Grig went on. “A terrible mistake.”

  The jurist shook his head. “Yes, you did it without having the basic training for such an investigation.”

  Grig shrugged his shoulders, obviously embarrassed.

  “Well, everything was OK until the encounter. We were standing behind a tree line. First we heard the engine of Otis’s vehicle, then the noise made by the frightened animals, then several gun shots, and then the engine stopped and we saw Otis right in front of us, with a woman and another man at his heels. I recognized Otis right away, he was holding a sporting gun in his hand. For one long moment I thought he’d use it to shoot us. Axel started to run to the ship. Otis was staring at us, dumbfounded, shouting something. I ran after Axel and later on remembered what Otis was shouting, ‘It can’t be, it mustn’t be, it’s impossible’!”

  “What did Axel say?”

  “Well, he was upset, of course, but tried not to lose his head. He said, ‘We’ve broken the non-intervention law, no doubt about it, but in a passive way. There are precedents. I can’t see any consequences. Reporting alien encounters has never affected history. Otis will never compromise himself. It’s his prestige at stake, anyway.’ I was as upset as he was, twisting everything in my mind. My imagination was going ahead of logic, building absurd hypotheses and giving implausible verdicts. ‘Listen,’ I found myself shouting, ‘what if we had intervened in Daniel Otis’s life?’ ‘Well, I don’t think we’ll ever know. Only if….’ And we both thought of the same thing: the memoscope! If there had been any change, the device had definitely recorded it. But the memoscope recording was another reality. It was the result of the androids’ activity in real time, prior to the events we had caused. Virtual time, which we had lived on Terra just a few hours ago, replaced the old time recorded by the memoscope, causing the inevitable alteration of history. It was the consequences we had to think of. We had to take all the details into account. On the one hand, there was the recorded history, on the other, the memoscope. Axel and I were right in the middle, two men from the future that had blown it.”

  “What did you two do after you came back to the twenty-fifth century?”

  “I went straight to my room to think it over, while Axel had to take care of something else. We met again in the evening and put our conclusions together. In short, our intervention was to affect Otis only after his death. Through his will. There was a clause in his will that, according to the memoscope, had triggered a conflict between his family and the authorities. Otis had wanted his body to be incinerated, but the authorities had insisted on preserving it in the Celebrity Museum. After a long trial, and damages paid to the family, the authorities had the body cryogenized and placed in the museum. ‘I wonder what made Otis add that clause to his will,’ Axel said. ‘Our encounter?’ ‘Maybe. Or some event following from it.’ ‘How did Otis die?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know,’ Axel answered. ‘But we can check the medical records.’ ‘Don’t you think we could...?’ ‘No, it could be hard to get the approval,’ Axel said and left the room thoughtfully; I knew he’d do his best to find the answer. That very night he came back in a hurry and woke me up with a voice I’ll never forget, ‘Wake up! Quick! Otis’s body belongs to an android!’ We talked about it until dawn, when Axel was video-contacted by Victor Clos, an expert in cell biology. Victor told him that the android from the Space City, Otis’s double, was in fact a human body. He was the real Daniel Otis! Then Axel and I had a long argument about the non-intervention law.”

  “Try to be more specific.”

  “OK. Axel said, ‘Obviously, it’s a case of altered history. Otis’s will is a document that was altered following a time intervention. The real Otis died in the Space City, no one knows why, together with thousands of androids, his own creations. We’re all facing an unprecedented crisis.’ ‘Come on, Axel, history hasn’t been altered in any way. The fact that there’s an android instead of the scientist is unimportant. He did exactly what he had to do—he ate, slept, suffered, and had fun like a man, discovered and created everything the real Otis had done. The memoscope shows the real genius had no children, so things are OK there, too. In fact, the android was the real Daniel Otis for us. More than that, he was placed in the Celebrity Museum, like the genuine scientist. No, I don’t agree with you. It’s not a case of altered history.’ ‘Then how do you explain what happened in Space City?’ ‘Just wait for my second report. As a matter of fact, I think you’ve got your own theory about it.’ It was the first and last time I saw Axel lose control. He looked offended, hurled the sensor register against the wall, and, before leaving the room, he shouted over his shoulder, ‘Then start writing it. And don’t make me wait too long’!”

  “What do you think caused that outburst?”

  “I don’t know. The point is he never apologized for it. And he never commented on my report. Not that I had written what he didn’t expect to find: what motivated the androids’ actions, what they hoped the genius that had created them would do in order to help them find their own way, different from mankind’s…. They had done the replacement skillfully, so history could not be affected. During our time travel we had
encountered the android. He knew Otis’s life and activity inside out. He knew Otis had never met a twenty-fifth-century lens-shaped ship. That’s what explained his surprise when he saw us, and his fear—he feared we’d reveal his real identity. He knew we came from the future, and then he made the mistake that helped us discover everything. He modified Otis’s will, hoping his body would disappear, and no one would know he was an android. He didn’t expect the tragedy of the Space City, or the fact that the memoscope would end up in our hands.”

  “What about the real Otis? Did he have anything to do with the tragedy?”

  “Well, for one thing, Otis didn’t think what the androids wanted was right for them. He most likely tried to make them go back to their previous condition, the one before their self-isolation. When he realized they didn’t want to, he decided to neutralize Space City. That’s how I concluded my report.”

  The jurist kept quiet, deep in thought. Then he said: “I see. Tell me about your last meeting with Axel.”

  “We last met the next day, after breakfast. ‘You did well,’ he said. ‘Everything’s all right, at least for the time being.’ ‘But there’s still one thing that hasn’t been clarified: how the androids died.’ ‘We clarified that too,’ Axel replied triumphantly. ‘Otis poisoned them! It was the only way he could kill them. Since no toxic substances have been found, the only conclusion is that he used something common, something the androids didn’t suspect at all, even after the first victims appeared.’ ‘What was that?’ I asked, my voice full of excitement. Axel smiled and answered, ‘Water! Do you remember where Otis worked for some time?’ ‘In Australia. At the Physics and Chemistry Institutes. They started studying the water there toward the end of the second millennium. But I don’t understand. The water in Space City has been analyzed, and they’ve found nothing unusual.’ ‘Well, water was the only thing we could cling to. So we took samples from there, and administered it to various species of animals.’ ‘When?’ ‘Last night. The warm-blooded animals died almost instantly. But the tests didn’t show anything. Just like in the androids’ case. Then we dissected the dead bodies, and we found the cause.’ Axel was striding the room, waving his hands and talking fast. ‘And since we found it hard to believe, we heated a sample of water. Well, when the temperature reached thirty-five degrees Celsius, it gelled instantly. When we cooled it, it turned liquid. That kind of water has a completely different structure, something our physicists had never encountered before. When gelled, from a vital substance it turns into the most powerful poison, blocking all exchanges at tissue or living cell level.’ ‘I see,’ I whispered, trying to look calm. ‘Analyzing the androids’ bodies was useless. They were cold, so the water inside them was liquid.’ ‘That’s right!’ Axel exclaimed. ‘An almost perfect murder. Pity Daniel Otis took the secret with him to the grave. He died exactly like his victims, you know, though we found a container with normal water close by. The only one in the City.’ ‘So we’ll never know why he experienced the same kind of death.’ ‘I’m afraid so. History can’t be tampered with.’ ‘What a pity,’ I said miming indifference. ‘Otis most likely had to sacrifice himself to carry out his plan. What an exceptional man!’ Axel just nodded and left.”

  “And then?”

  “I smiled to myself—Axel really believed I thought highly of Otis! The scientist had come to hate the androids so much. So all the androids’ fate was at stake. That’s exactly what made me act, right after I was taken to ‘Amnesia,’ where I was supposed to forget Axel, Space City, and everything related to the case.”

  “Then you used the inhibitor….”

  “Exactly. The one I hid in the gustatory programmer. I had to, I was pressed for time, and I needed my full memory to act on my own. Otis had to be found dead.”

  “And this morning—”

  “I’ve already mentioned it in my report. The first time I saw him in two years, he just turned up at my place, out of the blue. He shook my hand, patted my back, and said, ‘You helped me solve one of the most exciting cases in my career, buddy. Now I need your help again.’ He hadn’t changed a bit, he waved his hands and talked as fast, and strode from one room to another, obviously surprised by the plainness of my house; then he stood still and raised his eyebrows, asking, ‘Hey, Grig, where’s your famous library…where is it?’ I wished Axel hadn’t noticed that, but he was too smart. He looked so funny, staring at me with his wide eyes, unable to accept reality, that I decided to help him one more time. ‘Indeed, my dear Axel, Mem is one of those more or less unnecessary devices. My library is here,’ I said pointing to my forehead. ‘I’m sorry, but in the Space City case we didn’t play the roles we were supposed to. It was I who used you, to find out how my brothers had been exterminated. I had to go back in time and make Otis drink the same sort of water. I didn’t alter reality too much, just enough to make him disappear. It was good for the androids’ future, and annihilated the storm of events caused by the presence of a twentieth-century man in our time. For the triumph of reason in the entire Universe, history had to record his death and the death of several thousands of intelligences that he had managed to annihilate. He knew too much, as you do now. He was like all the other humans, unable to accept that the androids were a superior stage in the evolution of reason, in the relay race of conquering the Universe. Although many of you understood that, you never accepted it, as you never accepted the rights we’re fighting for.’ Then my disintegrator made Axel disappear into a cloud of elementary particles.”

  Grig paused, shrugged his shoulders and went on.

  “Pity. He was one of the few humans I was fond of.”

  “You gave him no chance, did you?”

  Grig grimaced. “It was useless. But again—”

  “You never thought Axel might be one of us,” the jurist said, his voice dry.

  Both of them kept quiet for a while.

  “Grig, you’ve got to understand…things are more complex than that. Humans, you know…we need them, though…. There are fewer of them than you can imagine. We need to treat them differently. We’ll have to live together. You’ll have to go back to them…and pay…like a man, for killing another man, Grig!”

  “But their laws…I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, Grig. Their laws must be our laws too. You’ve changed a lot lately. You’ve turned into a radical.”

  “So my retirement….”

  “That’s right. That’s the reason. You’ve broken the law. You’ve acted on your own accord, with very serious consequences. Your action pattern has been outdated for more than a year. The success of that mission is no longer useful to you.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “You’ll probably have to go through an utter anamnesis. Then you’ll get another identity.”

  “Is that the only solution?” Grig asked, his forehead dripping with sweat.

  “You know too damn well it is. Our behavior is much less flexible. Periodic reprogramming is still the only way for us to integrate in the human society, for a common evolution. The tragedy of Space City shows it clearly.”

  Grig jumped to his feet. His jaws were clenched, unable to speak a word. The jurist kept silent, giving him the time to grasp everything. Then he left the room. The light kept focusing on the immobile figure whose rough energetic face seemed to have been emptied of all expression by an implacable destiny.

  AGENT, by E. C. Tubb

  I don’t envy Looie.

  I’d like his money and I could use his car, but I can do without his fat, his bad heart and his reputation. Especially his reputation. It stinks.

  In a profession abounding with lice, he was the biggest louse of them all. A modern parasite leeching his twenty, thirty, even fifty percent as a so-called “agent,” he was hated by everyone from the regular ten-percenters down to the lowest chorine who ever kicked a leg before the footlights.

  I worked for him.

  He told me once that it gave him a lift to have a man with a college educ
ation around, especially if that man had been in the front line of the football team, and, as he was willing to pay for what he wanted, I didn’t find it too hard to take his cash. But I didn’t have to like him.

  I was sitting in the outer office when the two men walked in. They looked odd, but that was nothing. Most of the characters who wanted to see Looie looked odd. If they had been normal, they wouldn’t have wanted to see him in the first place. I put on my office expression as they halted before my desk.

  “Mr. Samuels?”

  “Who?” It took me a second to remember that Looie had been christened with his father’s name. “You mean Looie?”

  “I mean Mr. Lewis Samuels.” The speaker, a tall, thin, pale-faced man, looked at a card he held in his hand. “I understand that this is his place of business?”

  “That’s right.” I reached forward and took the card from him. It was dirty, creased, and bore an almost indecipherable scrawl on the back. I nodded when I read it. “If you will wait a minute?”

  I rose before he could answer and passed into the inner office. Looie looked up as I entered. As usual he was eating, he always was—nuts, chocolates, cookies, the man had an appetite like the hog he was. I threw the card onto his desk.

  “Customers. Willie sent them.”

  “Willie?” He blew out a mouthful of crumbs and picked up the card. “He still around?”

  “They must have let him out a week ago.” Willie was a tout, a hanger-on at the racetracks, the bars, the pool rooms A self-employed in-between man who drew a small commission from any business he sent our way. “You want to see them?”

  “Wait.” Looie frowned down at the card. “Better be careful. Check with Willie: this may be a trap.”

  I nodded and reached for the phone.

  It took five calls and a lot of persuasion to contact the tout, but I finally found him. He snapped into the phone as though I’d woken him up, which I probably had.