"And haven't you noticed? You haven't once made a reference to candy. When you said the Earth was going to reel in the moon, you could have said 'like taking a candy cane from a baby' or 'likegobbling down a boxful of pecan turtles.' You didn't, though."

Ray shrugged. "Does all that mean something?"

"Yes, but it's beyond human reason to comprehend."

"Maybe Dr. Waters will know," said Ray. "So why are all the people still hiding?"

Mihalik scratched his scalp. "Maybe they're afraid of me now. Maybe they think I'll be just another Historian."

"The Dorothy Syndrome, Frank," said Ray, his expression awed as a philosophical notion took form in his mind. "Dorothy's house landed on the Witch, right? Hooray, hooray, Dorothy's a heroine. Now, what if the situation had been slightly different: her house lands on the Witch and a Munchkin; is she still a heroine? Sure, of course -- getting rid of the Wicked Witch is worth the life of one poor Munchkin.

Okay, take a third case: her house flattens the Witch and two Munchkins. Is she a heroine now? How about four Munchkins? Eight? At some point the Munchkins are going to say, 'Hey, forget it, we'd rather just live with the Witch. You stay in Kansas and stop crunching our citizens into the dirt.'"

"Ding-dong, the Witch is dead!" recited Mihalik thoughtfully. "And so is Fred! And Paula and Jake and Monroe and Alma and Larry and Laureen and Estevan and Arly and Sol and--"

"Exactly, Frank. We'd better find out where you -- where we stand pretty fast. We might be in a lot of trouble."

"You mean, these people might not allow us to go to the far future and get pulverized by the moon."

Ray looked disappointed. "You're having some doubts, aren't you, Frank?"

Mihalik shook his head. "No, I'm really starting to enjoy all this. It's like a combination of a come-as-you-are party and Amateur Night on the executioner's block."

"First we still have to find the people who live here."

Mihalik made an impatient gesture. "They can just go fry ice, Ray, for all I care. We don't need 'em."

The mention of ice caused him a sudden, unexpected, and deep stab of remorse. He remembered Cheryl, trapped for eternity. Her suffering was Mihalik's responsibility. He should have had the Historian rescue all the rebels before Mihalik did anything terminal to the only person who knew how to trade off the universes.

They walked through the eerily deserted Fair. It was all new to Ray, as exciting and fresh as when Mihalik had first seen it -- how long ago? It was impossible to tell. He realized that if everything went according to Dr. Waters's plans -- and Mihalik was now willing to be swept along by them, though he didn't have all the confidence in the world -- they'd return to 1996, each only the tiniest tick of a clock, less than a picosecond, after their separate departures. To the observers, they wouldn't even have vanished; they'd only have been magically transformed in appearance. Mihalik would never know how long his wanderings had lasted. He was truly beginning to feel like the Odysseus of Time, all right; he was longing for home and unsure how he was going to get there or what he'd find on his arrival.

"How are we going to do this?" asked Mihalik as they watched flags of all nations snapping in the warm breeze. How few of those flags or the nations they represented still existed in Mihalik's own troubled time! Yet that grimy, penniless, weary world called to him, his own Ithaca singing in his yearning blood.

"Do you remember where you arrived? When you first came to the World's Fair?" asked Ray.

"Uh huh. The Hall of Industry and Metals."

"Because that's the site where Dr. Waters would eventually build his chronoport. We're supposed to look there; Dr. Waters was almost positive the equipment would still be there. It was supposed to be guarded all through history, the millions of years between 1996 and here, because we'd need to use it now; otherwise, vast and unpredictable cataclysms might result from the ensuing paradoxes. For eons, that building was the holiest place on earth."

"Chronoport?"

Ray looked embarra.s.sed. "Dr. Waters is trying out different names. He'll probably end up with 'time machine,' but right now he thinks it sounds too prosaic."

"The hall is over there a little way," said Mihalik. He wondered if the ancient machine would still bethere and, if so, if it could yet be made to function. "Say," he said, "I just thought of something. If we're going to use his wonderful chronoport to zip up to the farther future, why can't we just use it to go directly home?"

"Because this isn't the real future, Frank. I'm surprised you even had to ask. When we witness the collision of the Earth and moon, we won't be in the real future, either; but the energy of that collision can throw us into our own reality. Dr. Waters will do the rest. In the real future, by the way, n.o.body's going to strap the moon up in duck tape. That's silly, Frank."

"I thought it sounded silly, but it's getting hard to tell, lately. After you've been a cube of chocolate-covered caramel...." He let his voice trail off. "So if the moon doesn't get wrapped--"

"Don't even worry about it. The whole process I described would take hundreds of billions of years.

The sun won't last that long, anyway; both the Earth and moon will be destroyed when the sun becomes a red giant before its own death. The moon's never going to crash into the Earth; not in the real universe, at least."

"Oh, good," said Mihalik, amazed that he even gave a d.a.m.n.

The Hall of Industry and Metals was as empty and quiet as the rest of the exhibits. Mihalik led Ray to the dark storeroom where he had spent so much of the early part of his adventure. "Right in here," he said, opening the door.

There it was, the chronoport, surrounded by velvet ropes and plaques and statues and unguessably old vessels of ceramic or gold that had once contained flowers or offerings of other kinds. The room had served as a shrine for a vast quant.i.ty of time. Maybe the people who had pilgrimaged here had no idea what the apparatus was, why it was being guarded, and what would eventually be done with it. It may have been the greatest mystery in the long story of mankind, more puzzling than the fate of the Mary Celeste or the disappearance of the Lost Colony of Painesville.

"Gosh," said Ray, examining the heaps of treasures and the curious and indecipherable artifacts.

"Let's just go," said Mihalik.

"I want to fill the pockets of my lab coat--"

"Listen," said Mihalik, "when we left the 1939 World's Fair, Cheryl and I had a souvenir Heinz pickle pin for you. When we ended up in what we thought was home, the pin had disappeared. Maybe the application of force moves something across time only if it's not in its right reality to begin with. I don't think you'll be able to take any of this with you."

"You really thought to get me a souvenir? That was swell, Frank. I wish I had that pin. Anyway, let me try." Mihalik watched sulkily as Ray scooped up emeralds -- here in the metaphoric Emerald City, what else would they be? -- and stuffed his pockets to bulging. "Okay," he said. He went to check the meters and readouts. "Everything seems in order here. They've kept it all in perfect condition. I don't see so much as a smudge or a fingerprint, and it all smells like lemon-refreshed ammonia, too. They must have cleaned it off just this morning."

Mihalik was paying no attention. He went to a s.p.a.ce enclosed by a low railing of incorruptible gold.

He stepped over and saw two X's set into the floor with hundreds of small emeralds. That was where he and Ray would have to stand...

Two X's. Did that mean that the past had informed the future (or vice versa, or both) that Cheryl would not make the journey with them under any circ.u.mstances? That Cheryl had been destined from the beginning to be left behind? Mihalik chewed his lip; okay, if that had always been Cheryl's fate, why did he still feel guilty?

"Hit your mark, Frank," said Ray.

Mihalik went to his X and found a note waiting for him on the floor, held in place with a large, loose emerald. He bent and picked up the note, letting the precious stone roll aside. The message was mankind's first comprehensible communication from intelligent beings from interstellar s.p.a.ce.

The Note, Followed by a Contest for the Reader "What's that you got, Frank?" asked Ray, as he completed his calibration and pre-push check-out ofthe chronoport.

"A note."

"That's strange. Anything interesting?"

Mihalik read it: Dear Frank: You don't know us, but we're intelligent beings from interstellar s.p.a.ce. We call ourselves the nuhp.

We visited your world not many years after you made your historic journey through time. We knew nothing of time travel, but we were taught its secrets by your Dr. Waters. He told us that you'd planned to leave a note in the time capsule at the Fair, but that you hadn't actually accomplished it. No matter, it was the thought that counted. We would have found the time capsule and read your note, and it would have been a plea for help. Consider your plea heard. So your argument with Cheryl about the effect of leaving the note is still inconclusive: you are achieving the desired effect without performing the seemingly required cause.

Have no fear; your journey to the far future will go off without a hitch, the careening moon will do its job, and you and your pal, Ray, will return safely to your present. We hope you don't mind us giving away the ending.

There are a few things you must tell Dr. Waters when you see him next, because he will not know these things and he must know them in order to make certain decisions involving the continued existence of the entire universe. You can see that we nuhp are concerned that everything go smoothly.

First: we have deciphered most of the messages from Sirius. Evidently they are nothing to worry about. As you know, they are the same series of signals repeated every 11.4 seconds. The first part of the message makes sense, but it soon dissolves into gibberish. The message reads: YOU MAY ALREADY HAVE.

WON MXBLENR FTYP D.

WAZN'WS'L VRBOK.

Second: when we visited your world, we gave your people the necessary knowledge to make interstellar travel possible. Since then, we have made great mathematical discoveries that allow virtually instantaneous transportation from any point in the universe to any other point. See diagram and accompanying mathematical proof. Now you have the freedom of s.p.a.ce as well as time. You are as G.o.ds. So are we. It's better than the insurance racket.

Fig. 1: Schematic of nuhp method of interstellar rapid transit.

Discussion: we have drawn a triangle ABC at whose vertices are Sirius, the bright star that follows the constellation of Orion around; the town of Morristown, New Jersey; and the town of Summit, New Jersey. These points are chosen merely for ill.u.s.tration. Point A can be any cosmic locus at all; points B and C can also be any convenient points. It will be shown that the closer points B and C are, the less time it will take to travel to the selected point A.

Now make D the midpoint of AB. It is a.s.sumed that, for practical purposes, all points on the Earth's surface are equidistant from the cosmic locus; therefore, AB and AC are equal. Then: Bearing in mind that AD = BD, we arrive at the equation: And then we displace line AB to the position A'B', so that delta-a = B'B = delta-b = A'A. We take logarithms of both sides and the result is: log b-log a = log sin y-log sin x We differentiate, remembering that x and y are constant: Therefore, b = a; that is, AC = BC.

The distance between the Earth and any star is equal to the distance between Morristown, New Jersey, and Summit, New Jersey, or between whatever points we designate as B and C. If B and C are separated by a very small distance, then the distance to the cosmic locus A will also be very small, and crossing that minor gulf of s.p.a.ce should present few problems. We applaud our mathematicians on bringing the farthest, most mysterious reaches of the universe as nearby and as easily reached as thecorner forgstore. (We nuhp have withheld forg from the humans of your era, for reasons of our own.) Human beings must learn and encompa.s.s all things, Frank Mihalik, and you will find that there are yet greater and more enn.o.bling discoveries to be made. For one thing, blue seas and brown or green land ma.s.ses? Come on, Frank. Even our four-year-olds can pick out more tasteful combinations when they dress themselves. If you want to keep the oceans blue, why not make the land an understated yellow? If you really want to add a few bold slashes of color (we nuhp are an older race and have moved quite beyond that sort of thing), why not make the rivers a vibrant crimson?

But lose the brown, Frank. Really. You should hear what some of the other residents of our galaxy say about the way Earth looks from s.p.a.ce. Brown and blue, it's unbelievable....

Third: it's crucial that Dr. Waters learn about the four basic units out of which the entire universe is built. No, not earth, air, fire, and water. You know how atomic particles are made up of even smaller particles, how quarks are made of fantods, which in turn are made of even more ephemeral kleinstens, which consist of the vast variety of urs in different combinations. It seems to go on forever, Frank, but it doesn't. There is a bottom line, a group of ultimately small units that are not particles, waves, or wavicles, either. We don't have enough time to explain exactly what form they take; they're just constructs in one sense, mathematical-physical-philosophical notions; yet they can be detected and demonstrated. Indeed, their only quality -- as they seem immune from the effects of the four universal forces -- seems to be pure existence.

"Gee," said Ray, reading over Mihalik's shoulder, "they're letting you in on the fundamental hidden knowledge of the ages."

"Right," said Mihalik scornfully, "just in time for me to get mashed into thin pink gruel by the moon."

"Imagine knowing the secrets of the universe!" said Ray. "Aw, h.e.l.l." Mihalik continued reading: What, we hear you asking, is matter made of, then? The answer seems to be: something else. These four units are chronons, animons, gravitons, and Stoff (a human word in approximation of an idiomatic nuhp term). Chronons, as you've learned, are the basic material of time. Dr. Waters will have perfected his knowledge of chronons by the time you return to your own reality. Gravitons are theoretical units of gravity, according to human science. Nuhp physicists isolated them many tens of thousands of years ago.

Animons are the essential basic unit of "spirit" or whatever you want to call the animating force of living things. Stoff is the immaterial quality that when combined in sufficient quant.i.ties becomes "charge," "spin,"

"the weak force," and certain other properties of tangible matter. It's all a lovely unified field, just as your Dr. Einstein predicted.

The important thing to remember is that everything in the universe consists of these four units; also, that they are always found in groups of three, never more or less, and never more than one of each type in any triad. If you put one chronon and one graviton and one bit of Stoff together, you get life. That is the essential difference between a living animal and a corpse, the presence of this triad in sufficient quant.i.ty.

A bit of Stoff, a chronon, and an animon gives you mind or consciousness. A bit of Stoff, an animon, and a graviton equal s.p.a.ce. And a chronon, an animon, and a graviton create time.

"You need a chronon, an animon, and a graviton to build time?" asked Ray. "I thought time was just a flow of chronons."

"Evidently not," said Mihalik. "Just the way gravity isn't just a flow of gravitons."

"And time and s.p.a.ce are actually composed of these things?"

"These immaterial things. Yes, that's what they're saying."

Ray's face screwed up comically as he tried to get a grip on the concepts. "Yes, but I thought s.p.a.ce was, you know, the place where there wasn't anything."

"Well, we're wrong about that, apparently. Let me finish the note."

Now we must give you the most essential information of all. With a working knowledge of the four fundamental units of reality, Dr. Waters will be able to build the defenses against the direst threat to life and liberty the galaxy has ever known. It is of the utmost importance that you warn him, Frank, that he has very little time. All life on Earth and on countless other worlds is in his hands. This threat, more terrifying than anything your writers of fiction could imagine, is far more than we nuhp, purveyors ofpeace and understanding, can hope to battle. Dr. Waters must be your champion and ours, as well. Tell him to expect the following early warnings: The words were at the bottom of the page. There were no more pages. "Oh, great," groaned Ray.

"What do we do now?" asked Mihalik.

"We take Dr. Waters this stuff and hope that he can make sense of it. We hope that he can recognize the early warnings without having to be told about them by these nuhp jerks. You think they would have left such an important message in a safer place. I wonder where the last page is."

"Did you see it over by the control panels?"

Ray shook his head. "The place is clean as a whistle, Frank."

They searched the rest of the room, among the pots and caskets and other junk that had collected in the shrine during the long millenniums. They began throwing the various treasures around carelessly, tearing the place apart to find the nuhp's final revelation. It was hopeless; after a couple of hours, Mihalik and Ray were forced to admit that the page was nowhere in the room. "We're just going to have to have faith in Dr. Waters," said Mihalik. "He'll have to do the best he can without all the data he was supposed to get."

"He's never failed us yet," said Ray hopefully. Mihalik wondered how true that sentiment was.

"Are we ready?" asked Mihalik.

"You stand on your X, I'll stand on mine. I can set the machine for a twenty-second delay. Then things will start to happen very fast."

Mihalik took a deep breath and let it out. "Fire away," he said. Ray made a final adjustment and flipped a few toggle switches; then he hurried to his place on the stage beside Mihalik. There was a flicker of amber light, a sizzle, a snap, and a moderate clap of thunder.

Book Six

Plus ca Change, Plus C'est la Meme Chose

When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain

The Hall of Industry and Metals disappeared, left far behind in the past. The meadows of flowers disappeared, too. Mihalik had a quick glimpse of dimly lighted rocky landscape, and then he was rolling and tumbling down the side of a steep gorge. The air was filled with grotesque thunder, a steady, bone-rattling, grinding growl that was punctuated frequently by even louder detonations. The stony ground tore at Mihalik's clothing and lacerated his skin, and he needed desperately to slow his slide down the barren rock face. He tried to catch onto a narrow ledge but his momentum carried him over it, and he succeeded only in sc.r.a.ping his chest raw and b.l.o.o.d.y. He dug in his feet and spread his arms as wide as he could, but it didn't help; he surrendered and fell the rest of the way to the bottom of the narrow fissure, hitting his head on one boulder, injuring a shoulder on another. When he reached the bottom, he lay face down on the dry cracked earth, too dazed and too full of pain to move. He gasped for breath. It was difficult to fill his lungs: first, because he felt as if he'd cracked a rib or two, and second, because the air didn't seem to be thick enough to breathe. He took shuddering, heaving inhalations, trying to ignore the pain. The roaring of the hurricane, the rocking and shaking of the quaking ground, the rattle of the loose rocks as they pelted and plunged down on top of him all made him withdraw even further into himself. He put his arms around his head for protection, closed his eyes, and tried to catch his breath.

"Frank?" It was Ray, calling in a feeble voice from nearby. Mihalik didn't want to move, he didn't want to look for his friend. Mihalik was no coward, but he was in no hurry to resume being a hero, either. "Ray," he called, "you all right?"

"That was some ride, Frank. I hurt all over."

"Can you move? Anything broken?"

"I'm never going to be the same again, Frank, but I don't think I broke any bones. I wonder how I look without skin, though."

"Probably like I do, a couple hundred pounds of ground round." Mihalik took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. He was preparing to roll over and stand up, an act that took as much raw nerve as anything he'd ever had to do in his life. He rolled over, all right; but he didn't get up. He was stopped by the moon, which was growing rapidly in the near-black sky. It filled almost the whole of the heavens, eclipsing the sun and everything else.

"It shouldn't be long now, Frank," said Ray weakly. "We had only a few seconds to spare."

Mihalik's wide eyes stared at the terrible sight above him. He lay on his back, paralyzed, unable to speak, unable to cry out. The moon was so close he could see the strips of silver duct tape that bound it together. There wasn't enough time even to seek a shallow hole, any sort of insufficient hiding place...

"Frank--"

"Ray--"

How do you even try to describe the catastrophic violence and terror and unbearable tumultuousness of the collision of two planetary bodies? Mihalik would never be able even to make an attempt. He saw only that brief glimpse and then it happened and then he and Ray were gone, la.s.soed by mathematics out of harm's way au nick du temps. Later, when he had regained his grip on sanity, when he had recovered and rested and was able to think of that instant without panic, he began to wish that he could have witnessed more. It was surely the most staggering display ever enacted on this particular stage. Still that single moment when he saw the moon hanging overhead, only a few miles away and zeroing in on him, stayed burned into his nightmares for the rest of his life. It wasn't something that one could come to terms with, not even with the best psychoa.n.a.lysis and pharmacology money could buy.

And in his real home, in his real 1996, Frank Mihalik couldn't afford much of either.