"The survey team? Those were the men in the silver suits."
I could barely make out his face nodding up and down. "Yeah."
"I was afraid they were the Germans—the enemy. Especially when one of them shot at me."
There was a short bark of laughter. "You don't have to tell me. Once the Time Board found out about that, there was hell to pay. Those guys'll be lucky if anybody from that university ever tee-tees again."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Tee-tee. Time-travel."
"Ah. Uh, what's the Time Board?"
He shifted on the bunk and I tensed, but he did not get up.
"Why don't you ask me your real questions, mister? You don't give a damn who the Time Board is. You want to know why they sent us here to kill you."
I let my silence be his response. He sighed.
"It's my job. The damned Time Board is so paranoid about anybody messing with the time stream that their number one rule is nobody prior to the 24th century travels through time. That's when the whole thing was invented. Anybody goes through the co-continuum before that, they have to be executed."
"You don't sound too happy about it," I hazarded.
"Like I said, it's a job. But every time these damned professors bring back an aborigine or something—" he jumped to his feet—"you'd think they'd know better!"
"How about me? How could I have known any better?"
"You couldn't," he admitted. "But at least now you understand. And besides, you're not exactly a helpless Cro-Magnon. You're already one up on us."
"He shot at me first."
"'Course he did. He figured, walk through, find you, do you, and walk back. He'd done it a dozen times. Like I said, those history geeks think they can smuggle people in and out without anybody noticing. And don't even get me started on the religion researchers—!" By now he was pacing. I forced myself to relax. Killing me wasn't going to get him out of this cell. "Not often one of you guys gets the better of us. That's why they sent me. I'm the best."
"What about your two friends?"
"Oh. You saw them?"
Again I let him supply his own answer. This was supposed to be my interrogation; unfortunately, I was running out of questions.
"Your friend couldn't seem to find me. I wonder why?"
"He was probably tracking you by your residual particle radiation. Were you still wearing the same clothes when you saw him?"
"I had taken them off so I could take a bath. They were muddy."
"That's it then. I knew they must've worn off by now because we couldn't track you either. When you saw me I was trying to interface a datalink for information."
I had no idea what he was talking about, but there were more important questions rising in my mind.
"What do you know about this world? Do you know anything about the Nuum?"
"Not a blessed thing—about either one. Nobody's ever gone near this far ahead before. Whatever jammed up the camouflage field also messed with the displacement grid. This is way out of my league."
I doubt that we sat there, neither one willing to start a friendly conversation, for more than an hour before someone came to see my cellmate. In the dark, it was simplicity itself to reenact the trick that had ended with me trapped inside, only this time I stood at the back of the cell while the hapless guard opened the door, completely oblivious to my presence. In seconds we were in the hall, robbing the unconscious Nuum of his keys and weapon.
"A sword?" I hefted it for balance. It seemed too light to be real.
My former cellmate eyed me cautiously. "Looks like. It's made out of plastic or something. You know how to use that thing?"
I waved it around, more for effect than anything else. "I've used one before." No sense in telling him how long ago…
"Don't think I like the idea of you having a weapon."
Without taking my eyes off of my companion, I relieved the Nuum of his belt and girdled it on. Then I sheathed the sword and faced him empty-handed.
"Would you like to try to take it away from me?"
From my brief clutch of his arm, I could tell that the men of the 24th century must be less physical than those of the 20th. He couldn't fight me and we both knew it.
"Let's just get out of here," he said at last. "None of this'll mean a damn if we can't out of this building."
I told him I agreed and we set to work figuring the lock-and-key mechanism on the outer door. When we had it undone, I held out my hand.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For letting me know where I was. For letting me know there's a way back."
Although he looked unhappy, he took my hand. "My name's Buchwalter."
"Charles Clee."
"Good luck," he said, and I believe he meant it. Then he turned, and my best chance of ever getting home walked out of my sight forever.
"Directory."
Directory. Please make your selection.
"Does Hori Han work in this building?"
Hori Han works in the library, level seven.
"Please take me to level seven."
The lobby on level seven was equipped with its own directory, naturally, and just as naturally I couldn't read a word of it. But by this time I was beginning to get an idea of how to find my way around. I asked for directions; it gave them promptly, and I set off down the hall feeling very pleased with myself.
Hori Han worked alone in a small room, sitting at a flat table with various lighted buttons and some kind of moving picture screen set into its surface. Behind her several doors lead to other rooms, each one marked by a single character. Hori Han looked up as I entered.
"Yes, can I help—?" Her automatic greeting faded away as she realized who I was. In an instant she was around the table and flinging her arms about my neck.
"We thought you'd been killed!"
I disentangled her gently and shook my head. "No. I was caught by a mob, but I was rescued." I indicated our surroundings. "They thought I was one of them, so they brought me here."
Hori leaned forward to get a better look at my face and shock gave way to horror. I hadn't had a chance to look in a mirror since I was beaten and it only now occurred to me that I must look frightening. If a Nuum saw me like this, it would be hard to argue my way out of a visit to the doctor a second time. Thank heaven I hadn't tried to walk through the lobby to leave the building.
"You've got to see a doctor about those bruises."
"I can't. The minute he performs an examination, he'll know I'm not who I say I am—which raises a good question, now that I think of it. If they ask me, what name should I give?"
"You can use your own. It’s unusual, but it won't arouse any suspicion." She glanced at my left temple, not for the first time, and I wondered just how big a bruise I was sporting there. Whatever the Nuum had given me for the pain on the flight was still working, so I had no idea how badly I was hurt.
"You'll have to stay here tonight," Hori decided. "You'd attract too much attention looking like that. You can use room number two; I can fix the records. Just stay inside until I come get you."
"But what if someone comes in?" Her face froze with an expression as if I'd suggested using a Chaucer manuscript to line a birdcage. It took a visible effort for her to speak.
"No one will bother you." She shuddered. "The very idea is disgusting."
"My God," I gasped. "What's in there?"
"It's a library." She lead me to one of the rear doors and hustled me through. There was no light inside.
"A library? But I can't read!"
"The librarian will take care of you."
"The librarian? But I thought you—" The door slammed and I was alone in the dark…
"Hello. I am the Librarian."
…wasn't I?
One moment all was dark, the next there was light. But not all of a sudden; it rose softly, more gradual than dawn itself, springing from the very air and gently impinging on my eyes, the darkness now merely a mist, now disp
elled altogether. And when the last had lifted, I could not but survey my surroundings and gasp with pleasure.
Stretching further than I could have imagined, the room was lined floor to ceiling with books, broken only by faded medieval tapestries and a fireplace fit for roasting—well, me, had I been so inclined. Each shelf was dark with a shine mahogany can only achieve when rubbed by generations of scholarly hands. A second gallery wound about above my head, similarly lined with thousands of volumes.
On a tabouret alongside the leather chair near the fireplace a brandy snifter stood ready to welcome the contents of its companion Waterford decanter. I lifted the latter, inhaled the deep aroma of its amber treasure, and swayed on my feet.
It wasn't until I put the decanter down again that I noticed the fire, reflected in its facets. But I wasn't just unobservant; it hadn't been there before.
Then I remembered the voice, and the warmth of the room abandoned me.
"Hello?" I ventured.
"Good morning," said a friendly voice behind me.
I forced myself not to spin around. I hadn't been shot; this had to be a good sign. Instead I turned as though I had every right in the world to be exactly where I was.
"Good morning," I responded. "You're the librarian?"
He nodded, once. The Librarian was the oldest man I had seen since my advent through the co-continuum. With his watery blue eyes, furrowed, kindly face, and white hair, he reminded me much more of an Oxford don than a Nuum. Even his robe complemented the comparison. Only later was I to learn how accurate my initial impression was.
"Have you helped yourself to a brandy, sir?"
My gaze darted guiltily back toward the decanter behind me.
"I'm sorry. Was that yours?"
"Not at all, sir." Stepping past me, he decanted a glass of brandy and handed it to me. "I put it there for you."
The warmth of the liqueur seeped into my hand through the glass while the fumes drifted into my nostrils. It was as heavenly as before. When I finally succumbed to the temptation of tasting it, I could only close my eyes and let my palate savor the moment. All outside sensations slipped away, until only the grandfatherly voice of the librarian remained.
"I am glad to see you enjoying it, sir. It has been many years since I have been asked to entertain anyone but a Nuum."
11. I Receive My Education
The glass didn't break when I dropped it. It simply hit the floor and vanished. I stared stupidly at the spot until the librarian spoke again.
"I apologize if I startled you, sir. My appearance was designed to make you as comfortable as possible, but your brain structure is so unfamiliar that I may not have gotten everything quite correct."
I looked up. "My brain structure?" I repeated. "You can read my mind?"
He smiled disarmingly. "Of course not, sir. Not in the sense that you mean. But I am able to interpret the emanations of your mind and take certain impressions. I then use those impressions to sculpt the library environment to the most useful setting. I must say, however," he added, scanning the room, "that I have never used anything like this before." I watched in complete bewilderment as he walked to the nearest wall and plucked a volume from a shelf. "What are these things?"
"They're books."
"What are they for?" he asked, turning it over in his hands.
"You read them. There's writing inside… What kind of a librarian are you?"
Opening the book, he ignored me. "Fascinating. I've never heard of such a thing."
"How can you call yourself a librarian if you've never seen a book before?"
He seemed to recall me with a start and put the book away.
"I'm sorry, sir. How can I help you?"
"You can start by answering my question!"
"I call myself a Librarian because that is what I am. Since until I met you I had never heard of a book, I don't know how else to answer you."
I had to sit down. The chair made a comfortable place to ponder, but the librarian's hovering made it difficult. He put another brandy on the tabouret. He pulled more books from the shelves and made a point of pretending to examine them while he examined me. Eventually he went away, but I couldn't shake the feeling he was always right over my shoulder.
Sure enough, when I stood up, there he was.
"Where am I?"
"You are in Library Two, Nuum Administrative Tower, Vardan, Thora."
"Vardan? Thora?" I repeated, pronouncing the latter in the German style. "What are those?" Of course, I was already familiar with the terms, having heard them from Bantos Han, but the librarian might provide more information.
The librarian seemed not at all nonplused by my questions. "Vardan is the name of this city. Thora is the name of this planet."
"I thought this was Earth."
This did seem to give him pause. He stood perfectly still for at least two seconds, not long in most situations but quite noticeable in a conversation.
"This planet has not been called Earth for approximately 800,000 years. Yours is the first contemporary reference to that name of which I am aware since I was initialized."
As with so many facts I had recently become to know, I believe that I had already decided that the librarian was not a man, but the confirmation did not fill me with any sense of satisfaction. Rather it filled me with apprehension. I knew now how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole.
"Where I come from," I said in what I believed to be a remarkably normal voice, "it is called Earth. I am a time traveler from the 20th century."
"Really," he replied distantly. "Time travel is number thirteen on the list of those subjects whose research I am instructed to report to the Nuum."
"However," he continued, "my human programmers have blocked that instruction."
I breathed a sigh of relief, even though I wasn't completely sure why. "Initialized?" "Programmers?" There were gaps in my education that needed to be remedied immediately. Belatedly I realized that Hori Han must have had exactly that thought in mind when she left me here.
"Librarian, where can I find books that will help me to live in this century?"
"That is a wide field." He placed one hand on his chin, supporting his elbow with the opposite hand exactly as one of the dons in my college had done. Now that I looked, I could see that don's features on the librarian, mixed in with those of other men I had known. The effect was pleasant, if unsettling when you dwelled upon it. At least, for all that he was a machine, he sounded far more human than the elevator. "I can give you a general education, but much of it will depend on concepts with which you are unfamiliar: hierarchical mathematics, biosoftware conceptualization, psycholinguistics, genetic engineering, dataspherics, atypical physics, prescient causality… and of course, more history than your brain might absorb."
I stared at him. "I can't learn all that—I'm only going to be here one night!"
True to his form, he tsked, then gently lead me back to the chair. He took a book off a shelf.
"Since you are familiar with these books, I can use them as your interface. Just open it as you would normally."
"But I can't read it. I don't understand this alphabet."
"Then that will be the first thing we teach you. I will transfer the information directly into your unconscious mind while you sleep. Some things you will retain better than others, because you have already studied them. Those neural pathways are established and can be expanded upon. And muscle memory, for example, can only be learned over time."
I opened the book…
There was no sensation of awakening other than the knowledge that I had been asleep. The librarian stood over me in the same position he had been in before. He was smiling again.
"Don't try to get up just yet. Your neural networks are not as developed as were those for whom this program was written. It might give you a headache."
He was right about that. My first winter in England had greeted me with snow and a terrible head cold, and that was how I felt now. My sku
ll was throbbing all over. The librarian handed me a pill and a glass of water, both of which I took with thanks. Immediately my discomfort began to fade into the background, but I was content to let him speak on.
"I gave you as much basic general knowledge as I thought safe. Your brain is more disposed toward artistic than logical endeavors, so your grounding in mathematics is quite limited. This was particularly necessary since your own education was very primitive in those areas." He bent down to peer into my eyes before continuing. "On the other hand, given your dilemma, I thought it superfluous to feed you a deep understanding of contemporary art and literature."
"My dilemma?" Any attention I was paying to my headache was now diverted. "What dilemma?"
"My original programming goes beyond simple data input and output. I was designed to assist patrons in sifting through research and synthesizing outlines. Moreover, I have been operational for over 600,000 years. In that time I have continued to develop through self-programming. It is my analysis that once your presence here is known, you will immediately become the most valuable man on Thora."
I felt a warning chill. Even though I knew the answer, I had to ask, "Why?"
"Time travel is a highly-prized commodity, sir," the Librarian informed me. "Both the Nuum and the Thoran resisters would pay dearly to possess it. Once they learn of your origin, they will want to take you into their custody."
"But I don't know anything… What about the men who followed me here?"
"If the presence of additional time travelers were known, they would rank equal to you as a goal."
I paused to consider my options. "Then if anyone finds out about them, I'll lose my chance to get home."
For the second time, the librarian did not answer me immediately, but this time instead of freezing, he paced slowly before the fireplace. It made him more human, more familiar; had he done more while I was asleep than simply give me information? Had he taken information from me as well?
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