by Laer Carroll
Anna had said she was four hundred years old. And that Amy and Fred had been so well cured of old age that THEY would never grow old.
Amy glanced aside at the woman. She was still silent, waiting for them, but gazing at the pool and the rest of the garden beyond it as if she were content in the view.
Or was she again, or still, in that communion with the stupendous vessel within which they rested?
Could Amy become a pilot in such a vessel herself? She opened her mouth but Fred was an instant before her.
"There are other galaxies?" It was a question but Amy thought Fred knew the answer already.
"Yes, Mr. Noonan. Ready to have your mind stretched more? Our galaxy is one of 59 major galaxies and 1037 dwarf galaxies. They make up what your astronomers call The Local Group."
The view fled outward once more and their galaxy was joined by others to make another seeming dust cloud made of miniscule discs and globes of light.
"This group is only one of many groups. They make up a cluster. It is also one of many clusters, arranged in what might be called superclusters."
The view still fled outward until slowing and stopping. The image before them was of yet another dust cloud in the blackness of space.
Which was the entire universe, Amy thought, her mind still reeling from the vastnesses upon vastnesses it had traversed in a few minutes.
"To make matters even more stupefying, even to me who has lived with the fact for centuries, our universe is only one of many separated from each other in higher dimensions beyond those of space and time. But I'm a simple woman and I refuse to get into those realms of thought."
Fred said, a tone like glee in his voice, "There really are parallel universes?"
"Yes, Mr. Noonan."
Amy hugged her own thought to herself about becoming a spaceship pilot. Best to learn more before she was told it was impossible. For a new ambition was growing inside her, a determination that had put her into airplanes and then their cockpits when she was barely twenty years old. An ambition that no star-traveling superwoman or anyone else had better dare defy.
"But now let's come to your situation."
The view shrank back to the Milky Way Galaxy. A red arrow pointed to a spot two-thirds out from its center.
"Here is where Earth is. Notice that it's in a spiral arm, one of four which wrap around the center."
The view fled inward, magnifying the particular spiral arm. Several ghostly sacks of various colors appeared, roughly oval but with tentacles which stretched outward. Several of the sacks overlapped others and Amy suddenly realized that she was seeing depth as well as breadth.
"There are thirteen large racial groups in our area. The Human Interstellar Confederation is one. We thirteen are the most advanced races and we've always been at peace with each other. This is partly because our needs and wants and natural habitats are so different. But it is also because of the warnings of super-beings we sometimes call star gods. Don't get me started on them!"
"There really are aliens?" Fred sounded almost breathless.
"Oh, yes. You can learn more about them if you wish. But back to your situation.
"The Confed, for short, is made up of some 800 planets and many more space habitats. We're several thousand years old. Around that core is a thick skin of planets of humans such as Earth soon will be, advanced enough and peaceful enough to join the Confed as Associate members. And around them is another skin of primitive human planets, the Protected worlds.
"Earth was discovered around 1900 by an automatic explorer. The Confed's explorer announced to all space-going civilizations that this system is now protected by us and it took steps to ensure that. One was to set up spy machines which scoop up all the information they can about you. Machines organize and interpret that information, but even the brightest doesn't have the judgment and creativity to make the best sense of it.
"That's where people like you come in. People on the verge of anonymous death. You are rescued by smart machines. You are given various jobs by those machines, one of which is to become, in a sense, librarians. And interpreters to us in the Confed.
"There's another job available to the rescued. Take a look at this."
A small book or magazine shimmered into existence in front of Fred Noonan. It hung suspended in the air until he grasped it.
Amy bent sideways to look more closely at the object. It was a magazine with a front cover showing a silver-grey machine floating in blackness. It reminded her of a fire hydrant with antennas attached to it. Behind it was a small blue ball which she recognized as her own blue planet.
Fred was leafing through it, stopping a few seconds here and there to read, then leafing further. He made small sounds of astonishment and satisfaction as he did so. Then he closed it and rested it on his lap.
He looked over at Amy. "It's a science-fiction magazine with a July 1964 cover date."
Anna said, "One job open to you is to prepare the world for discovering that the Confederation exists and what it's like. You would get involved in science-fictional enterprises in some way and support a view which included an organization like the Confed. You'd have a modest trust fund so you could act as a volunteer or low-paid worker, maybe as a writer or editor or some such function."
"An author? Me? No way! But editor, hmm. Or maybe, I don't know, hmm..."
He sat, looking out over the pool but certainly not seeing it.
"Keep it in mind. Now, Amy."
"Yes?"
"We have several kinds of jobs for which you would be well suited, and for which we always have much need despite our many billions of citizens. One is to work on the Protected worlds to help them advance more quickly toward joining the Confed."
She paused, gazing at Amy. Amy nodded for her to go on.
"You might be a medical professional, building on your early interest and training in medicine and nursing before you took up flying. You'd have mechanical aids to protect you against, for instance, plagues and marauders and the every-day violence all too common on primitive worlds.
"But I must warn you. You'd be physically safe. But not emotionally. You'd see people you've helped and come to know and even love suffer and die. Of old age if nothing else. Being an immortal amongst mortals can be heart breaking."
"I am very definitely not some namby-pamby girl."
"No, you're not.
"Another job is trouble shooter. You'd travel to various Protected or Associate worlds and analyze problems. Sometimes you'd even come up with solutions and see them carried out, either by you or by calling in some team."
Fred said to Amy, grinning, "Sounds just right for an independent lady like you." He had sometimes used "independent" as a tactful way to say "bossy."
She gave him a squelching look which only caused his grin to widen. Sure, she sometimes got carried away giving advice, or orders. But it was all too often necessary.
To Anna she said, "I'd travel. How?"
"You'd be given a craft suitable for the job. For your medical or educational jobs a small one just to get about on the worlds you're assigned to. For trouble shooting a small fast well-armed war craft. Sometimes trouble comes in aggressive packages.
"Those are only the first two jobs to come to mind for you, given your background. There are others.
"Of course, you'd have to spend a few years in education and training. You'd have to become a full citizen of the Confederation. I know starting over can be..."
"I'm not afraid of hard work," Amy said impatiently.
"No, of course not.
"Now, if you've no more immediate concerns, I suggest we let you two get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable. And we can have a bite to eat and discuss more options--"
Fred said, "My option is just fine. I'll sign onto it right now."
Anna blinked.
"You are very decisive."
"I can spend all the time needed to explore ifs, ands, and buts when it's needed. But now it's not."
"Very well. This is your servant and guide." She gestured toward the air in front of them. A round device the size of a tennis ball shimmered into existence a few feet in front of Noonan. Its surface even had the same fuzziness of a tennis ball but was a uniform light grey. It floated as if suspended on a string.
"Address it as Guide and as if it were another person. But it is a machine, and never forget it. It has limited creativity and judgment, so don't expect more of it than it can deliver."
"Hell--sorry!--that describes just about everybody I know!" He grinned and stood.
"Guide. I don't like your name. Suppose I call you Oscar."
The voice that answered from the direction of the machine was a pleasant contralto. It could have come from either a woman or a man.
"I understand, Mr. Noonan."
"Call me Fred. It's shorter."
He said to Anna, "Any chance Oscar and I can get right to it? I don't feel any need to get bathed and gussied up and natter on about choices. I've made mine and just as soon get back home."
The alien's eyes looked through him toward some far distance, then focused on him.
"A craft has been assigned to you. Just ask your guide to take you to it. It will act as your pilot to take you to wherever you want to go. As you travel ask it to brief you on whatever you need to know to do your job."
He nodded, stood, and turned toward Amy. She stood, feeling awkward. Events were moving a bit faster than she'd have liked.
"Give me a hug, Amelia. We've dare death and won."
She grinned, stepped forward into his embrace, and gave all her strength to a tight hug.
It lasted a long time, that warmth and pressure of their bodies. Finally he lifted her a few inches, swung her back and forth gently, and released her.
"Go with God, Amelia." His voice was husky.
Amy stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
"You too, Fred. Maybe I'll see you again some day."
She held her eyes wider than usual to keep the tears from spilling over.
He grinned at her, sketched a sassy salute to the alien woman, turned, and strode away. "Come on Oscar. Let's get this show on the road."
Amy stood watching him stride away. "The damned fool. Doesn't even know just where he's going. Just going."
Anna was standing beside her. The lounge chairs and side tables had vanished.
"His guide will do its job. You need not worry about Mr. Noonan. The craft will give him all he needs, including a home if he wants it, and he is young again and in perfect health. That includes that of his brain, which has been cleaned of problems such as poor blood flow and incipient cancers and so on."
"You tampered with his brain?" Amy looked at the alien, her eyes narrowing.
"Only to enhance its health and install those blocks to talking about what he's learned and will learn about the Confederation."
"And you've done the same to me."
"Only to improving your all-over health. No blocks. Your jobs, whatever you choose, require you have no slightest handicap to impede your performance. It will take a while to sink in, but you are a very valuable resource. A Very Important Person, in your language."
Amy's eyebrows wanted to climb in skepticism but she controlled her face.
Anna said, "You will need a sophisticated servant." She held up a hand palm up. Above it shimmered into existence a tennis-ball sized crystalline orb. It was sky blue and had many facets.
Anna dropped her hand and the orb remained, floating.
"Tell it 'Activate.'"
Amy did so. The orb puffed into a cloud of vapor and vanished.
"What happened?"
"It's now inside every cell in your body. Just visualize the way it first looked and tell it to do something. You need not speak aloud. Over time you will not need to speak, just think of what you want."
"What if I wanted it to do something impossible?"
"It will tell you it cannot. If you ask it to, it will also give you advice on how to get what you want and the limits and costs of the various options. Remember, however, it is a machine and not an independent or creative thinker. You must supply those qualities.
"Now, I have many tasks to do before you leave for your next home. Suppose we meet again in four hours? Here? You can stay here and get acquainted with your servant."
Amy agreed. The woman vanished.
THAT was interesting. Had she even been here?
Amy looked around at the garden or park in which she stood. Was it real?
She bent and touched the floor of the little patio beside the pool. The concrete felt just as it should: hard, rough, warm from the sun.
She squinted at the sun. It looked real. The warmth on her face felt real.
She visualized the crystalline orb and said aloud, "Is all this illusion? Or is it real?"
"All below the sky is material. The sky is a projection. Though that probably qualifies as real, not illusion."
Interesting. Her servant could speculate and make distinctions, or seem to.
"Can I get one of those pool lounges back?"
One of the chairs shimmered into existence beside her. Amy cautiously sat upon it, swung her legs up, and settled back into a semi-reclining position as before.
Gazing out at the blue water of the pool she noted the fact that Orb, her servant, had not needed to be told what "those" meant.
"I'd like a side table and a glass of rosé."
A table identical to those earlier ones appeared beside her chair. On it was a wine glass half filled with what looked like wine.
She took a cautious sip. It tasted just as it should, like one of her favorites.
And that was indeed interesting. Orb could pull out of her memories enormous and subtle details. AND it could interpret "I'd like" to be a command and not just a preference.
This was fun. It was also scary, because she remembered a fairy tale about a genie which would grant every wish but always with some horrible cost.
More grounded in the situation now, Amy crossed her legs to get more comfortable. This brought her attention to her boots and the pants legs of her flight suit. They should be very smelly after the hours and the cramped situation in flight, but were not.
"Orb," she thought at it, "Can we change my clothes?"
The answer was Yes because it showed her an assortment of clothing as if it had copied them from a Sears catalog. Amy especially liked the silk dressing gown in black with geometrical patterns in many bright colors.
There was a sort of waiting sensation inside her head and, when Amy agreed, her flight suit and boots vanished to be replaced by a perfect copy of the dressing gown. The squirming sensations under her bottom and back which accompanied the changes were interesting but they vanished immediately.
She took a sip of her rose-tinted wine and got down to work.
<>
First on her agenda was to catch up to history since she'd vanished in 1937. She asked Orb questions and it answered, usually in images, some moving, accompanied by words spoken in its neither-sex voice.
As time went by the process sped up, questions and answers becoming a smoothly flowing mechanism. Shortly it almost seemed as if what she wanted to know was already in her memory and she just needed to focus on the answers to recall them.
There had been a great war with Germany and Japan which ended with America using an atomic bomb with the threat of dropping a second. Russia got its own bombs and there were a couple of decades of tension which only slowly had moderated.
Smaller wars had come, the biggest in Korea, but a slow-boiling conflict in Vietnam was heating up toward a larger conflict.
Numerous inventions were transforming people's lives. One that especially interested Amy was the jet engine and a rapidly growing web of airlines which were knitting the world together. Commercial television, a novelty in 1937, had become a huge enterprise. The U. S. and Europe culture was full of optimism about the everyday li
fe of ordinary people, who responding by buying almost compulsively.
The current President had survived an assassination attempt which had made him a shoo-in for the upcoming presidential election. Though in the year since his reputation had tattered, or been tattered, by the opposition party. The latest scandal was an adulterous tryst with a famous movie actress.
Amy's mother had died peacefully and in modestly comfortable circumstances two years ago.
She had to pause to take that in. Tears leaking from her eyes made her hastily turn her thoughts to other matters.
Her sister had learned contraceptive wisdom and ceased to have children after giving Amy a niece and nephew. When the children grew up and left home she had divorced her no-good husband and gone on to a happier life. Or so it seemed, though information was scanty about that.
Amy's husband George had milked Amy's myth for a time but finally focused on his movie career and made a moderate success of it.
That cheered her. He'd been more of a friend and business partner than a lover, but she'd still liked the son-of-a-bitch.
<>
She thought of getting a third fill-up of her wine glass but decided her mind needed to stay sharp. She stood up, had Orb swap her robe for a bathing suit, took several quick steps, and dove into the chill water of the pool.
The blue-painted bottom came up toward her. She slapped it to push her body upright, kicked against the bottom, and surfaced explosively.
She dog-paddled for a time, enjoying the sunlight on her face and the pleasant greenery around the pool, then swam a few laps. On the last she banished her bathing suit and luxuriated in the naughtiness of wearing nothing.
A thought-question delivered the news that Orb could lift her body into the air and let her fly around a bit. Amy liked that. She exploded out of the pool and hung suspended twenty feet above it. She also called up a miniature tornado which dried her body.
Nakedness felt a little too--something--up this high. Amy called a form-fitting suit like Anna's to her body, though she had Orb decorate it with bold vertical black stripes on a white background. She shod her feet with white moccasin-like slippers.
Then for a time she flew above and through the modest garden. Tiring of that, she returned to her lawn chair and the business of exploring Confederation culture, trying to get a general picture of it but also focusing on looking for places where she could fit in.