Reversion - A Novel Part 4

aWe have a problem with Timmy. His grades are a part of it.a aWhat are his grades?a The man answered without lowering his eyes. Grudgingly I gave him credit: he had done his homework. aArithmetic A-plus, though the teacher advises that she caught him using log tables to avoid multiplication and division practice. History A-plus, though he has disrupted the cla.s.s on two occasions by revealing errors in the text and on a third by challenging the common view of Helen Keller as a model of resolve for children.a Dad looked at me. aWhat was wrong with Helen Keller?a aSheas a Communist sympathizer.a His eyes widened. aYouare kidding!a aNo, unfortunately, he isnat,a Schiffman answered for me with a growl. aI didnat know it either, but itas there in the public record. To go on, Science A-plus, though Mr. Howe has sent him to my office twice. Civics a"a Dad had frowned. aJust a minute! My son has always been exceptional in science.a aOh, he is still exceptional! When Mr. Howe judged, as many do, that the German V2 rocket could not work above 150 miles because it would have no air for the exhaust to push against, Timmy went to the blackboard and showed that Newtonas Second and Third Law, which no other seventh grader ever heard about, were sufficient to explain the operation of rockets, requiring no air to a.s.sist them. Mr. Howe is a decorated war veteran who is understandably sensitive about being second-guessed by a callow youth, especially one who can spout irrelevancies for hours.a aIrrelevancies!a Dadas eyes flashed. aBut Newtonas laws do explain rockets completely!a Schiffman blinked. aEven in outer s.p.a.ce?a aEverywhere!a Dad thundered.

Schiffman coughed. aWell, I wonat presume to argue with a professor in his specialty, but a"a aOh, go ahead,a Dad countered, grinning. aIam not a physicist; Iam a philosopher. But I once had occasion to prove the air resistance conjecture false by throwing first a basketball, then a cannon ball from my fatheras porch swing.a Schiffman looked blank. aBut thatas not a rocket.a aSame principle, and Newtonas Second Law applies.a Schiffman shook his head resolutely. aBut itas not a rocket. In Civics Timmy scores A-plus, although only by virtue of his teacheras exceptional integrity. She tells me that on the essay questions he first gives the book answers, then argues that they are invariably incomplete, nave or even deliberate falsification. She would like to fail him on the grounds that he has certainly not accepted the facts imparted by the lesson material, but admits that she knows of no requirement for the student to believe what he is taught, so long as he can spout it back.a Again Dad looked at me. His eyes twinkled. aTimmy, donat you believe that Franklin D. Roosevelt was the greatest human being who ever lived?a aMaybe the one with the largest blind spot.a aHuh?a He hadnat expected that.

aYou see?a asked Schiffman. aAlways irrelevancies.a aWhat blind spot?a Dad inquired.

aI conjecture that he never expected to survive World War Two.a aHmm.a Dadas eyes became distant. aBecause he planned nothing to contain the victorious Soviets?a I winked. aMr. Schiffman would call that irrelevant.a Dad shook his head. aNot after Churchillas Iron Curtain speech in Missouri last year. What else do you have, Mr. Schiffman?a The princ.i.p.al said frostily, aI have a certain disdain for anyone who criticizes President Roosevelt.a aAll Republicans, no doubt,a Dad commented in apparent agreement.

aDefinitely!a Schiffman cleared his throat. aIn English Timmy has another A-plus, although his teacher warns that she intends to reduce his score in the future if he continues to use so many foreign words and phrases in the creative writing exercises. And again his literature reviews tend to cast doubt on the sincerity of the textbook authors, a cynical att.i.tude that is contaminating other students.

aThen we have health and deportment. I have deliberately saved those two for last. Timmy has a C in health, which is a combination of an A in Hygiene cla.s.s and an F in the gym, applied according to his instructor because he refuses to take any kind of sport seriously. He enjoys show-off plays, such as sinking ten baskets in a row from the 20-foot line. But he is useless on a team. Though talented in strength, accuracy and reflexes, he cannot be depended on to serve the goals of his team. He is as likely to sink a long shot in the opposing teamas goal as his own, while pretending to be confused. Once he ran off to the showers without touching a base after hitting a homerun. Coach Bryant has benched him as useless to the athletic program.

aAs to deportment, again he has a C. While invariably polite to the teachers, his contempt for much of the curriculum is so poorly disguised that it instills disrespect in other students who do not possess his reserves of knowledge and wit.a The man leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. aIn short, Dr. Kimball, your son is very much a disruptive influence in this school, both to students and teachers but particularly to teachers.a He sighed. aYet I find that I have very little recourse available to me. I can hardly suspend or expel him on such complaints. The law requires him to attend school until he is 16 years of age and it requires me to accommodate him so long as he is not unruly, which he is not a exactly. I asked you to come in, sir, hoping that you might help me devise some solution.a Dad nodded slowly. aI see.a He stood up. aIall get back to you shortly on this, Mr. Schiffman. Come along, Timmy.a He didnat speak again until we sat together in his rusty prewar Studebaker. aI see what you meant about boredom causing it. But donat you think youave gone a bit far to liven things up?a I sighed. aYes, sir, indeed I have.a His eyes flicked back and forth on mine. aHelen Keller is really a Communist?a aShe believes in it. Vladimir Lenin is her hero.a aWhere did you hear that, son?a Where had I heard it? I shrugged. aAll I know is what I read in the papers.a He snorted. aI suppose you know who said that first?a aWill Rogers?a I guessed.

He studied me. aSon, is it possible you have some kind of perfect memory? Do you remember every word you ever read?a But he answered his own question before I could open my mouth. aNo, no, that couldnat be it. You obviously understand what you know, far more than any boy has the right.a He reached over the floor-mounted gear shift and clasped my shoulder. aSon, do you have any idea whatas happened to you?a I knew my father to be a kind man. I had heard other people, mainly Mother, suggest he had a strong mind but a weak body. I weasled. aMaybe itas not so much whatas happened to me.a aWhat do you mean?a aMaybe other people are starting to notice me.a He chuckled sourly. aYouave seen to that, havenat you!a He sighed. aItas not just your teachers. Your mother and I have noticed a major difference, too. As bright as you are, as knowledgeable as youave somehow become, you must know something about it.a Oh, yes, indeed. G.o.d, I was tempted to make a clean breast of it right then and there! This was my father, the man whose love for me was as close to unconditional as I might find on this Earth. But what if he didnat believe me? A twelve year-old boy was totally at his fatheras mercy in 1947. This was not a man to jump to conclusions, but what if he decided I had developed a mental defect a" an obvious conclusion on the face of it? The next step might well be involuntary admittance to a amental hospital.a For most of the Twentieth Century this was a place to incarcerate anyone while witch doctors made him their guinea pig. Question: what can be worse than a charlatan who believes his own mumbo-jumbo? Answer: one who has the governmentas gun behind him. By 2002 the psychiatrists were losing their hammerlock on the courts, but in 1947 they alone were authorized to judge you competent to be a free man a" or not, depending on a short interrogation.

h.e.l.l, by almost anyoneas standard I had already proven myself crazy as a loon. I had committed suicide in 2002! I shook my head. The truth would not serve me in 1947.

So I nodded in apparent agreement. aYes, sir, Mama asked me about it just the other day. Itas like Iave awakened from a dream, a dream where I was just playing around, taking things in as they came along. Now Iam beginning to notice how the world really works, without all the bulla" ah, without the charming but incomplete explanations they make for children. Itas beginning to add up. I notice some trends. For example, several businesses that invented stuff for the military during the war have had their patents released, stuff thatas been in the news, like radar and microwave radio. One in particular you ought to buy into, Dad: Airguidance Corporation. Their stock has been rising steadily, and they just signed a contract to supply radar for LaGuardia and Chicago Munic.i.p.al.a He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. aThink itas a sure thing, do you?a aWell, the hundred dollar bond Gramps gave me when I was born a" Iad put that on Airguidance.a If he cared for my suggestion he gave no sign. He studied me in thoughtful silence. Then his eyes narrowed. aI know youare bright, Tim, but how bright is that?a I caught his drift. aDo you have a test for me?a aPerhaps I do. Let me ask you this. Consider a mature oak tree. Why do the cracks in its bark run vertically, up the trunk, instead of horizontally, around it?a aHuh? Iam no botanist.a aWell, neither am I. But I never saw that question in a book. It depends on experience and deduction, not erudition.a aA peculiarity of oaks?a aNo. Perhaps you could call it a peculiarity of deciduous trees; many species exhibit it. But the question was, aWhy?aa I thought about it. aThe bark is dead.a aRight, which explains the cracks. But why vertical instead of horizontal?a I shrugged. aBecause a tree is like a man. After a while it stops growing taller and starts growing wider.a He took a deep breath, staring at me. aTim, that answer worries me a lot.a aIs it wrong?a aNo. Itas exactly right. But where would a twelve year-old boy, no matter how brilliant, get the experience to know that about a man or a tree?a Donat underestimate the old man! But at the end of that road was an obvious absurdity. I needed to remind him of it, so I chuckled, spread my hands as if inviting him to consider the evident child before him and asked, aWhat do you think you have proven?a He took a deep breath. aThat you donat belong in the seventh grade.a aQuite true,a I agreed. aThe question is, how best to get me out without jeopardizing my future credentials.a aThere!a he exclaimed, staring harder. aWhat other twelve year old would ever think of that?a aAside from my appreciation of it, it is in fact the only issue.a He sighed. aPerhaps the most immediate one. The solution will need money, I think.a He sighed again. When he spoke, the reluctance was evident in his voice. aAnd I think I know where to get it for you.a I put a hand on his arm. aYouare not thinking of anything rash, I hope. Airguidance will exceed $100 per share before Christmas.a His eyes widened. aWhatas the price now?a aThree and a half.a He smiled. aNothing rash, you say! But in fact Iam planning nothing rash. Weall just speak to Aunt Clara.a * * *

Dad didnat explain his decision to turn to Aunt Clara until Sat.u.r.day afternoon when we were in the car on the way to her house.

aThis trip is just a little bit embarra.s.sing, son.a aThen donat do it,a I answered.

He grunted. aI should depend on your Airguidance dream instead, eh?a aItas no dream.a aYou need a near-term solution, Timmy. We might need a second mortgage to get that for you, and although I hear the confidence in your voice, somehow I just canat risk my familyas home on your guesses. And donat tell me they arenat guesses a" unless youare prepared to show me exactly how it is that you alone on earth can see the future.a So I went back to his original point. aYouare embarra.s.sed to ask someone else to help you educate your son?a aTo help pay for it, yes, I am. Thatas part of it. But thereas more you donat know.a I thought about it. aSomething between our family and Clara?a He hesitated. At last he took a deep breath. aBetween Clara and me. Her husband, Paul, was my friend when we were two new a.s.sistant professors just starting out and needing friendship. Your mother and I often went out with the two of them together, to shows and dinner. Those were such gay times. Then the war came and he volunteered, even though he was 39. He was an engineer. They put him into the signal corps as a captain and we thought head be safe, but within a year he was killed when a j.a.p torpedo sank his troop ship. Though a bit younger than I, he was such a good friend!a Dad choked back a sob. I took hold of his hand.

aClara was devastated, of course, but after a few months she recovered, at least on the surface. Your mother and I continued to see her. We would go out together, but not as often as before. Then, almost a year after Paulas death, your mother had to go attend to her mother who took ill, your grandmother. Do you remember Grandma Frazier?a aNot really,a I replied.

aWell, your mother was away for weeks, until Grandma Frazier died. During that time Clara came over every day to fix supper for us.a aWhat happened?a I asked bluntly, wanting to hear the end of the story.

He looked at me sharply for the second he dared to spare from the traffic. aI donat know where or how you found a manas experience, son, but I count on it for you to keep this our secret. What do you suppose happened? Clara and I had an affair. It was very intense, but it lasted less than ten days. We agreed to end it, because we were so full of guilt.a I wanted to a.s.sure him that he had no reason to feel shame, but he continued, aI wanted to confess to your mother, but I couldnat do it. Besides, what purpose would be served in doing that? It would only have made her miserable. When Clara comes over to the house, she wonat look into my face. After we ended the affair, she said she would do anything for me. I only had to ask. I suppose she was thinking about money.a He threw me another sharp glance. aShe has some special feeling for you. I donat know why. Your mother remarked on it soon after you were born. She supposes that Clara wants a son of her own terribly.a aThen why hasnat she remarried?a aGood question! She told me that the only other man she ever knew to compare to Paul was already married.a aI see.a aIave told you of our affair so youall understand the special nature of this visit. Iave talked to her on the phone. Clara is interested in your new, ah, capabilities and she very much wants to help you.a He glanced at me again. aItas up to you to convince her she should.a aIs it, Dad? Wouldnat she do it only for your sake?a aShe might.a His lips formed a thin line. aBut I definitely donat want her to do it for my sake!a I thought about it. aAre you telling me to show off for her?a aYes, exactly. Let it all out. Pour on the coal. Sheas an educated woman, much like your mother in that regard. Hit her with every item of abstruse erudition you can dig up.a He sighed. aI canat beg her, even for your sake. Iam going to duck out. Sheall give you a ride home. This is your big chance, son. Convince her to hire you a tutor.a aMore in the nature of a guidance counselor,a I mused.

He laughed. aAre you truly so conceited?a aIt isnat conceit, Dad. I would be pleased to take a" and pa.s.s a" the college matriculation exams as soon as they could be scheduled.a aSuch a claim!a He shook his head. aTimmy, I love you, but thatas ridiculous!a I smiled. aIn that case Iam glad I donat have to convince you!a He sniffed. aI a.s.sure you, Claraas no fool.a aI donat need a fool, Dad, just an open mind.a He flashed me a glare. aNow youare approaching impertinence.a I asked innocently, aIsnat that about what they told Galileo?a a" which drew a laugh, though a bit sour.

aLetas see how many moons you discover!a he grumped as he turned into Claraas long driveway.

Her house, so familiar to me, nestled in a park-like setting of at least two acres. It was not large, but it was certainly more than a cottage. The rusting old Studebaker was out of place in the driveway of this rich property.

Dad strode to the door of the house, which opened before he reached it, and Clara stepped out. I was struck again by her dainty stature and mature attractiveness. I had known her long as I could remember, yet she still possessed something mysterious. Perhaps the old man in my head did not know her as well as the boy, who had always responded to her with unquestioning affection. The old man saw her as one of the most desirable women he had ever encountered. He wanted to do more than just suck on one of her ear lobes.

She only nodded at Dad. Her attention was for me. She caught my hands in both of hers. aTimmy!a she cried softly. aIndeed you are becoming a man.a Dad said dryly, aNot fast enough to suit him! Clara, I can hardly tell you how pleased I am that you would see us on such short a"a aNot another word, Frank!a she instructed him, still holding my hands and looking into my eyes. aI repeat: you can have anything from me.a He coughed behind his hand. aCan you get him home before dinner?a aOf course, Frank.a aIall see you at home, son.a He turned back to his car. Clara tugged me into the house. She smiled sunnily. aI have some special lemonade for you.a I stopped to look at her living room as she went to the kitchen for my drink. Of course it was the first time I ever appreciated it properly. She had furnished it in what would later be described as aSwedish Modern:a angular but heavily stuffed couch and chairs, wall-to-wall carpet and floor-to-ceiling drapes, both rarities then, in subdued blended earth tones. Had she spent some of her obvious wealth to have it all custom made?

The pictures on the wall were abstractions, yet to my surprise I recognized them. They all seemed to be enlargements from the rim of the Mandelbrot Set, which would make them as anachronistically impossible as my memories. I wondered who might have painted them from some prophetic dream, but no artistas name was furnished.

She returned with a tray bearing two tall gla.s.ses, tinkling with ice, but paused when she saw me examining one of the pictures.

aRecognize my paintings?a she asked with curious intentness.

I withdrew my fingertip from contact with the whorls of paint and turned to regard her. aThey are paintings!a I exclaimed with internal relief.

Her eyes twinkled. aAs opposed to what, prints?a aWhoas the artist?a aI am. Try this lemonade. Iave added a little spice.a aYou painted these?a She chuckled slightly. aDonat sound so incredulous, Timmy.a aBut why? Where did you get the idea?a aTake this gla.s.s, Timmy, before you convince me you understand what is truly strange about them.a I stared at her. They couldnat be Mandelbrot views! It would take weeks to produce one having such typical detail and almost-symmetry without a fast computer. Even then the artist must have studied many such views before painting one, yet Benoit Mandelbrot himself was not destined to see the first image of his world-famous set before the early Seventies, almost 25 years from now.

The true strangeness here was the woman. The dark eyes that contemplated me over the proffered gla.s.s fairly beamed with intelligence. Likely I was missing a bet. I felt a slight chill even before I took the first sip of her lemonade. Something cautioned me to be very careful, not to slip up and admit anything that could only be known by having already lived in the future.

But I almost screwed up right away. aAlmonds!a I declared, tasting the lemonade. aNo, amaretto!a She studied me in calculation. Time to behave like a kid. I took a generous slug and smacked my lips. aHey, Aunt Clara, delicious!a aWhere did you ever hear of amaretto?a aIave got a book that says it tastes like smooth almonds.a I held up the gla.s.s. aLemon and smooth almonds.a Presumably her added flavoring was not pota.s.sium cyanide!

She took a sip of her own drink and gestured toward the couch. aSit there with me.a I sat beside her, deliberately allowing the side of my knee to touch hers.

Instead of reacting, she said thoughtfully, aYour father told me about your meeting with the school princ.i.p.al and his chat with you afterwards. He says that your mental capacity seems suddenly to have blossomed incredibly, that you have developed a stupendous memory for trivia and can deduce, apparently by sheer brilliance, conclusions that anyone else might reach only after long experience and observation.a She studied me, eyes flicking back and forth. aI am not talking down to you, Timmy. Do you understand me?a aPerfectly.a Her eyebrows twitched. aJust how widely have you blossomed, Timmy?a How widely did I need to have blossomed? I decided to play it cautiously because in fact I was not just a precocious lad! I shrugged. aHow could I know that?a She blinked, as if she expected something else. She smiled. aThen letas see if we can find out. To what is the slope proportional?a aProportionala gave it away. I grinned at her. aThe first derivative of the function. Were you a math teacher, Aunt Clara?a aYes, in fact,a she answered primly. aI was my husbandas graduate math a.s.sistant for a while.a She continued immediately, aWhat element has the highest atomic weight?a I almost retorted that I had ceased to keep up with them after some stutterer began prefixing all of them with unun- but caught myself in time. What was the last one Seaborg had discovered by 1947? I took a guess. aAmericium?a She sniffed. aActually not. But even Americium is a cla.s.sified name.a Her eyes twinkled. aThe federal government would be interested in knowing how you heard of it.a I widened my eyes ingenuously. aMy G.o.d, Aunt Clara, did you help with the atomic bomb?a That is, how did you learn of it, then?

The twinkle vanished. aI had nothing to do with that. How do you suppose I know about Americium?a I shot a high one. aFrom the usual academic clique exchanges that make mockery of secrecy restrictions.a Intending to make my voice falsetto, I managed to elevate it perhaps one sarcastic octave. aOh, your husband discovered anti-gravity? Mine is working on time travel!a A smile flickered on her lips and vanished. aVery astute,a she commented dryly, studying me. She leaned back, hands on her knees. aNow tell me what was your problem with my paintings.a A high one in return: I thought she would ask how I knew of Americium! But I could handle this one better. aMy library teacher likes modern art. Sheas taught me about the cubists and the impressionists. Your paintings are nothing like that, yet they are still abstractions. I know where Iave seen something like them, though not so elaborately detailed.a aWhere?a she demanded intently.

aWoven fabric from Paisley in Scotland or England, I donat recall which, whose ideas came from earlier Kashmiri weavings. Your paintings are paisley with great pa.s.sion.a aWith pa.s.sion,a she repeated in an introspective tone.

Was it time to quit playing the kid? As if I actually had! aYouare wearing no bra.s.siere under that satin blouse,a I guessed. aDid you want me to notice you?a She took a very deep breath. aTimmy aa aShow me.a She neither blushed nor protested. Dark eyes boring into mine, she tugged the blouse tails out of her skirt, gathered them in her hands and s.n.a.t.c.hed them up under her armpits, leaving her moderate b.r.e.a.s.t.s jiggling. Her skin was like milk porcelain, spotless and translucent to the network of blue veins beneath it. Her small nipples were dark and tightly crinkled. Was she a general exhibitionist or was it only for me?

aYou are very beautiful,a I told her sincerely.

aTimmy aa She sighed and let the blouse fall. aYour father was right. You have no more need of that school than I do.a aThen what should I do about it?a aGo to Chicago.a aWhat?a aI had a very close friend at the University of Chicago. He enjoys working with precocious youth. If heas still there, and I expect he is, he could guide you through the curriculum and perhaps even graduate work. Let me write to him. I should have an answer for you in a couple weeks.a aAs easy as that?a She nodded. aIall advise Frank a" your father a" to remove you from your current school. Heall have to pet.i.tion the school board, I suspect, if he does it legally, and Frank always wants to be legal. Iall hire an examiner to give you the standard battery of high-school competency tests.a She smiled. aThink theyall be a problem?a aIall ace them.a Oops! Another anachronism?

If so, she nevertheless understood me. aI expect you will.a She stood up, stuffing blouse back into skirt waist. She took a breath. aI need to get you home before dinner.a I stood almost in contact with her, looking into her eyes. aThatas another hour.a aWould you aa She gulped. aWould you prefer to a do something else?a Take it easy, kid, the old man advised. Youall be seeing a lot of her, with and without her clothes, in the near future. And you havenat worn out your welcome with Mealy yet. But why was this one so eager for me? I agreed that I was beautiful, but she had remarked only on the quality of my mind. Do women think brains are s.e.xy?

aYes,a the cautious old man made me say, abut weall have a lot of time for that. I think youare right. You should take me home.a aVery well,a she agreed, but her disappointment was evident.

aCan we meet?a I asked Mrs. Potter softly in the library.

Her eyes had fixed upon me as I strolled across the room, dodging other students.

aSame time, same station,a she whispered immediately as if she had antic.i.p.ated my question, which well she might. This was our fourth rendezvous.

aIall pretend to have a mustache.a She took a breath. aIall loan you one.a I chuckled. aTouch!a Jeffersonas Dime Store again was bereft of kids, but then, as I recalled, kids didnat usually patronize dime stores unaccompanied by parents. Though a lot of its merchandise indeed sold for dimes, too little of it was saturated in sugar or promises of excitement. By the time of my reversion, the dime store by that name had disappeared from America.

When I slammed her car door, she waited until she was up to speed and had shifted into high before demanding, aWhereave you been this week?a I debated hinting at the truth. Why not? If she had truly missed me, a worse truth was in the offing. aTesting your prediction.a aMy prediction?a aThat G.o.d only knows what Iall do to other women.a Her lip curled. aAnd have you been doing things to them?a aNot exactly. Iave been very busy, but mostly with young girls and a couple of old men.a aTell me about the young girls.a aThree, ages twelve through 16. The 16 year-old is interesting, but I find oddly enough that the younger ones lack sparkle.a aaOddly enough,aa she repeated. aI ask myself why I donat just stop the car and put you out.a aNone compares with you, Mealy. You tower over them all in my dreams.a aDo I! Well, I suppose I can understand that. You did in mine, too.a aaDid?aa She glanced at me coolly. aI went to a club Sat.u.r.day and let a man pick me up.a It was her matter-of-fact delivery that shocked me, I think, more than the words. Then the old man suggested she might only be playing with me. I asked, aHow did it go?a aIt was brutish. He was the club bouncer. His biceps were large as your thighs.a aDid you enjoy it?a aThat wasnat my purpose.a aWhat a treat for him, either way!a aIs that how you think of it?a aItas a compliment, Mealy. Iave already told you: you are the modern American ideal to which any man must respond.a aA compliment? Then I suppose I should thank you.a aWhat was your objective, if not pleasure?a aI wanted to find out something about myself.a The boy was curious but not the old man, who doubted now that she was playing. I asked, aAnd whatas your objective in telling me of it?a aIam not sure.a She chuckled sourly. aWhen Iam with you, things just spill out.a I thought over her words. aYou sought a man to replace me in your dreams?a Her voice was almost too low to hear over the car sounds, but I had young ears. aIn my soul.a The old man took charge. aThat was probably wise, Mealy.a Her head pivoted, large eyes staring at me. aWhat d-do you mean?a I shook my head. aBetter watch the traffic.a Reluctantly she turned away. aIs this your way of dropping me in favor of your young girls?a aNot the young girls, Mealy. I mean it: they donat hold a candle to you. The fact is, Iam leaving school at the end of this week.a aWhat? Youare too young!a I grunted. aAre you truly surprised? Iall be going away to a university.a aSo soon?a aVery soon.a Her hands closed tightly on the wheel. She took a shuddering breath. Again her voice was low. aWould a would you spend a weekend with me, Timmy?a I shook my head. aHow could I do that, Mealy? For all intents and purposes except school Iam still a twelve year-old boy.a aCouldnat you a s-say you were staying with a friend a" Oh, G.o.d, what am I doing?a I caressed her tense arm. aMealy, Iam sorry.a aNo. Iam the one who is sorry.a She stared straight ahead, driving mechanically, except at the next intersection, where she should have turned right, she turned left toward my neighborhood.

She spared me a glance from very bright eyes and chuckled ironically. aTo think Iave been worried about hurting you!a I sighed, trying to see it from her side. aThe heart is a very tender organ.a aHow well said!a she declared with heavy irony. aHave I been a good example for you?a aAn example of what?a aOf how easy older women are for the pretty boy with an old manas cunning.a What an excellent summary! aYou are the clever one, Mealy.a She shook her head. aI am only a fool!a She sighed. aBut Iam still glad to have loved you. What are you really, Timmy?a I thought about my answer. Perhaps I owed her something, especially if, foolish indeed, she had let me impregnate her. But would she understand if I told her the exact truth? Or hinted at it?

Why the h.e.l.l not?

I said, aIam an experiment, Mealy. So far a wildly successful one.a She threw me an appraising glance. Neither of us said another word until the car stopped before my house.

aI know what you are, Timmy,a she said, staring into my eyes. aYouare G.o.das gift to older women. Thank you, G.o.d.a aYou can do infinitely better than a bar bouncer, Mealy.a aAs you have proven?a aGood-bye, Mealy. Itas been great fun.a Her eyes flashed. aItas Mrs. Potter, if you donat mind.a aYes, maaam.a I got out of the car and called through the open window, aThanks for the ride, Mrs. Potter.a I watched her drive away. My mother was standing at the front door. aMrs. Potter?a aThe school librarian. She wanted to tell me I was overdue.a aWell, did you make arrangements?a I forced a smile and nodded. aShe wonat need to see me again.a * * *

On Wednesday afternoons I had become Phyllisas property, with Bobby taking a small share. This Wednesday was different. I was late getting to Gradenas, mainly because I hated the idea of another parting. When I arrived, Phyllis, naked, pulled me quickly into his backdoor, her fat t.i.ts jiggling. aWhereave you been?a I asked innocently, aAre you in a hurry?a aOh, come on,a she said with a sniff. To my surprise she led me past the staircase and into the bathroom. Gradenas ruined figure waited for us, sitting on a stool while wearing a big grin and nothing else.

aThrow your clothes in the hall, Timmy,a the girl ordered.

aWhatas going on?a aBobby wants to do it in the bathroom.a I glanced penetratingly at him. Was he into water sports at his age a" in 1947?

It was both worse and better. He understood my look. aSheas got her period.a That brought me up short. I knew that some women like to af.u.c.k b.l.o.o.d.y,a as my second wife had called it, but G.o.d, what a mess! Hence the bathroom. But a"

I looked wonderingly at Phyllis. aAre you so sophisticated?a aItas his idea!a she declared defensively.

He retorted stoutly, aMy wife, bless her hot little soul, loved it to death. Get your clothes off, Timmy. Maybe I can teach you something today.a While I obeyed, he lowered his stool into the tub, which already contained a few inches of water. He sat down atop the stool and leaned back against the wall, while Phyllis settled over his ropy old c.o.c.k, today standing tall without any special stimulation.

aOoo!a she complained. aIt stings.a aBecause youare more sensitive,a he soothed her, awhich will soon pay off for you.a His hands on her hips urged a gentle back-and-forth motion.

He grinned at me. aNow we donat need rubbers.a Back to her: aKiss me, honey.a I finished undressing while they swapped spit. But I had my doubts that three could be made to work in that bathtub. Presumably the old boy wanted me to take his place on the stool.

Phyll had her own ideas about that. She raised her head and looked at me. aCan I suck on Tim?a Graden leered at me. aOn that cute little d.i.c.k? Weall both suck it.a By standing partly on the rim of the tub I was able to raise my equipment to the level of their mouths. What a ludicrous pose we made: a wrinkled old man with a plump young girl sliding her hips atop his, rubbing her lush t.i.ts into his gray chest, while both alternated in full-throat suction on the c.o.c.k of a p.u.b.escent lad happily playing the contortionist to ease their access! Any witness without a s.e.x organ involved must have laughed his or her head off.

Strike the need for an involved s.e.x organ. Phyllis began to giggle, followed by Graden, as their tongues came into play, licking and s...o...b..ring all over my c.o.c.k and each otheras faces, kissing each other with my c.o.c.k head between the two sets of lips. It was contagious. I found myself chuckling as well. But the girlas laugh developed a different component. She shuddered violently. Fortunately my c.o.c.k was in Gradenas mouth at that moment because her teeth snapped shut audibly.

The manas face turned bright red as he spat me out. aOh, good G.o.d!a he cried, eyes glaring at nothing, gripping the girlas body tightly in his arms. They froze momentarily. Gasping, he pushed the girlas torso erect. His right hand closed on his lumpy left pectoral and his red face contorted in anguish. aG.o.d, it hurts!a I demanded, aDid you bring him some nitro?a aIn the little bottle on his dresser,a she replied, gasping with wide eyes, releasing a c.o.c.k b.l.o.o.d.y and spotted with white bubbles as she rose off him.

In other circ.u.mstances I might have dwelt on that sight. Now I rushed through the house and up the stairs to his room, s.n.a.t.c.hed the little brown bottle that fortunately stood alone on his dresser, and nearly floated back down the stairs. One of my ankles was sore for the next day or two.

His face was paler but he was still moaning, hand in his armpit. I shook out one of the tiny pills and put it to his lips. aUnder the tongue, Bobby. Under the tongue!a When I had pushed it in, I added, aLet it dissolve there.a Phyllis stood over him in the tub. Now I had the chance to inspect b.l.o.o.d.y c.o.c.k, p.u.b.es, b.a.l.l.s and thighs. The girl was equally well coated. The water below them had a distinct red tinge. Apparently she was a heavy bleeder. I remembered discussing menstruation with my wife, who claimed that teenage girls usually were. I suppose it makes sense: thatas when they are easiest caught a" except during the menstrual flow itself. Odd, the difference between the human and other female mammals in that respect!

In a minute or so his arm came down. He stared at me. aIt really works!a I grinned. aOf course. How do you feel? Got a headache?a aNo. Well, a little, I guess. Thank you, Dr. Tim.a But his eyes sought Phyllas. aYou came, too!a aOh, yes!a she breathed. aYou are so wonderful, Bobby!a My little boy wanted to ask her if she hadnat noticed I saved his life, but my old man understood her priorities and was glad. She would not be another lonely Mealy.

I found some washrags in his linen closet and brought them to the tub. aYou both need cleaning up.a We helped him upstairs, helped him dress partly and left him in bed, smiling reminiscently.

Phyllisas clothing had been tossed into the downstairs hall along with mine. As I bent for my shorts, she caught my shrunken c.o.c.k. aYou didnat have any fun,a she explained, dropping to her knees and gobbling me up.

aYes, I did. Iall never forget you and Bobbie sucking me off together.a She withdrew long enough to say, aNow you get the off.a I watched her bobbing head. aYou seem to love doing this for me, Phyll, and that makes me wonder. I thought girls loved the biggest c.o.c.ks.a She snorted and leaned further forward. I could feel her chin on my b.a.l.l.s. I added, aYouare getting d.a.m.n good at it, a most skillful fellatrix.a She redoubled her efforts. Always praise your woman during a b.l.o.w.j.o.b. At least she canat argue with you.

She had learned to balloon her cheeks at the first spurt. In the silent house I could hear her throat work as she swallowed. Indeed a Cla.s.s A suck-off! She backed away, rose to her feet and smirked at me. Her face was unblemished.

aPhyll, youare the greatest,a I admitted, taking a deep breath and reaching again for my shorts.

aWhatas a fellatrix?a aA girl who really knows how to suck a d.i.c.k. Iam going to miss you, Phyll.a She paused in her own dressing. aWhat miss me? Youare right, you know. I do love you in my mouth. Iall suck it anytime you hold still.a aAny man would miss that. But Iall have to miss you. Iam leaving here next week. Theyare sending me to a university.a aOh, Timmy! Iall miss you, too.a She proceeded methodically to pull on her clothing. aCould I ask you something?a I would have chuckled. Obviously itas to a girlas advantage to have two strings to her bow, whatever their condition. aSure.a aBobby asked me to marry him. Mamma says itas crazy. What do you think?a

Chapter 4: Alice.

Mamma came in from the porch shuffling mail. aTimmy, hereas one for you.a aFrom Aunt Clara?a I asked, mildly bemused, looking up from my book. I had yet to create a public persona. Even the magazines Dad had grudgingly ordered for me were in his name. Only Clara had ever sent me personal mail, usually a birthday card, though months had pa.s.sed since my birthday.

aNo,a she answered, drawing near and handing me a small envelope. aThis isnat from Clara.a She grinned. aHave you made a pen pal?a It was addressed to Master Timothy Kimball in an almost familiar hand. Though the cursive was too neatly and uniformly composed to be considered childish, it had nevertheless been written with a pencil, probably Number Two, and was slightly smeared, perhaps by a postmanas fingers. The envelope, greeting card sized, bore no return address. Mammaas grin widened behind me when I took it out on the porch to open it in privacy.

The small note again was in pencil but the handwriting was fully mature and very familiar.

Tim, you old man,

This is the address I memorized from your records. a.s.suming you are the Timothy Peter Kimball who remembers Alice Farnsworth, nee Colsen, please call me in Chicago at 27-0564. The address is 13077 Lemolion Place, Apt. 9, but donat write me here. The difference is incredible!

Alice, still your best friend

I was stunned! I shuddered, breathed out and failed to inhale until I gasped. Alice had followed me! How was it possible? How had she determined the right universe?

My shocked mind was pleased to divert to that problem a" but the answer was obvious. When I reverted, how many other Timothy Kimb.a.l.l.s in other universes had done the same at the same moment a" a million? An infinity? Likewise as many Alices had reverted, too. Each must necessarily proceed to a different universe, in many cases one that exhibited far greater strangeness than the shape of paperclips or the location of bathtub drains. aThe difference is incredible!a I wondered what she meant.

But G.o.d, Alice was here! I whirled back into the house.

aMay I use the phone?a I asked my mother in a distracted voice.

She looked at me queerly. aIs something wrong, Timmy?a aI need to call someone in Chicago.a aTimmy, you sound so strange!a aPlease, I need to make this call. I canat explain.a I still spoke in a soprano voice but with the determination of an adult who expects to be obeyed.

aDarling, if thereas anything a"a I interrupted her sternly. aMother, I must make this phone call now.a She looked at me, her pretty boy, as though I had been possessed by an alien, which was close to the truth. aDo you know how to call Chicago?a Oops! She had a point: no area codes in this time and place. But the youthful Timmy had paid attention. aYou just tell the operator the city and the number, right?a aDial zero, first.a She sighed with a curious submissiveness. aGo ahead.a She watched, an eyebrow c.o.c.ked, as I told the number to the operator in my best adult female voice. After three rings a woman answered.

aMay I speak to Alice?a I asked, now using a sweet soprano.

aWhoas calling?a the woman responded suspiciously.

aBess, from school.a aBess who?a aTruman.a It was the first name that came to mind.

aEither youare crazy or I am,a the woman declared positively.

aWhy not both?a I asked reasonably. aWill you please let me speak to Alice?a Apparently she extended the receiver to someone. Her voice was distant. aThe presidentas wife wants you.a She added something else that I didnat catch, dealing with flying saucers.

A child said cautiously, ah.e.l.lo?a aAlice, this is Tim. I gave my name as Bess. Can you talk?a aOh good, Bess,a the child answered. I heard her take a deep breath. aThanks for calling. Did you note the homework a.s.signment?a aI noted your address and phone number. Is everything truly so different?a aIt sure is, so much that I donat want to believe it. Hold on a moment. Let me get my book and Iall read you the page numbers.a I waited, thinking that the timbre of her voice was little-girlish but not the inflection. In a moment she returned but her voice was lower. aTim, Iam alone now.a aAlice!a I fumed, ignoring my motheras stare. aHow did you get the right universe? Why did you do this?a aTim, I canat explain it now. Mom might come back anytime. She is totally unpredictable. I need to see you, but Iam just a little girl and I canat get away. Give me your number. Iam in a terrible, freakish situation. I fear for my safety! I need to escape.a aAre you healthy?a aYes, and you?a aIam twelve years old, Alice. Can you believe it?a At my recitation of the obvious her tone took on the impatience familiar from years of working together. aOf course, since Iam ten! Youave got to come for me, Tim, and soon.a aI shall, Alice. I donat know how yet, but Iall make it soon as I can.a aShe may actually kill me, Tim.a aWho may?a aMy mother.a She laughed bitterly. aWould you believe she has guessed part of the truth? Here she comes. Quick, give me your number.a When we hung up, I shook my head in astonishment, wondering what a ten year-old Alice looked like.

My mother snapped me back to the present. aThe right universe?a I looked into her eyes and sighed, then chuckled. aKidsa talk, Mamma.a Her eyes narrowed. aThe content, perhaps. Why should anyone doubt youare twelve years old? But not the tone.a Her voice firmed. aAll right, young man, I let you make your call. Now let me see that letter.a I studied her. aIt wonat clarify anything.a aLet me see it!a she ordered. I thought of defying her, but curiously the old man reminded me that she was still my mother.

I pa.s.sed it across to her. Her eyes flew over it. aOld man?a she breathed, staring at me. aThis Alice, who thinks sheas your best friend, is married?a I shook my head and plucked the letter out of her hand. aIall explain it to Dad when he gets home tonight.a With a sigh I added, aIam going to need his help.a aFor Alice?a aYes.a aWhatas happened to you, son?a I nodded. aThatas the basic question, all right!a She did not interfere as I went upstairs.

aWhatas the matter, Timmy? Are Clara and I moving too slowly to suit you?a Dad entered behind the couch where I sat scanning the financial pages of the newspaper. I had heard his car arrive in the driveway followed by the slam of the backdoor. Mamma had b.u.t.tonholed him in the kitchen. His tone of aggravation was not unexpected, though trust Dad to put an uncommon slant on it!

I looked up from my paper as he came around the couch. aWhatas the matter is that some events are moving too fast, in this case a stupidly unforeseen event.a aMeaning you should have foreseen it, eh? What happened a" did Airguidance bottom out?a aOh, no. In fact people are starting to appreciate it. Airguidance closed at ten and three-quarters yesterday.a aMore than doubled? Remarkable!a He flopped tiredly in the adjacent chair. aLetas cease sparring, Timmy. You upset your mother today. She was alarmed at your behavior. I understand you received a letter and then made a phone call to Chicago as a result.a He took a breath. aI a.s.sume it wasnat some frivolous, childish stunt. Whatas going on, son? Whom do you know in Chicago?a I sighed. aHer name is Alice Colsen a and she desperately needs my help.a I returned his stare earnestly. He leaned forward. aAnd sheas a married woman?a aNo, she isnat.a I sighed again. There was no way to avoid telling him the truth. aDad, the other day you asked me if I could explain the difference everyone has noticed in me since school started. I regret to admit that I was less than candid with you a" less than fully forthcoming, I mean. I know exactly what the difference is and what caused it. But I wanted to spare you that knowledge if I could. It seemed best for you to conclude that I had somehow enjoyed a sudden tremendous increase in intelligence, which perhaps is the conclusion you reached.a His eyes riveted mine. aDonat confuse results with causes.a I shook my head in admiration. aYou are still a step ahead of me! Youare right: the knowledge I possess, of physical nature, of human charactera a" I stared at him fixedly a" aof future events, is not available to twelve year-olds. How I came to possess that knowledge and ability is the real secret.a aAnd you know how it happened,a he suggested dryly.

aYes, of course. I caused it to happen.a He sniffed. aWell, then, perhaps you would care to share your technique. I could use a bit more a" Did you just claim knowledge of future events?a aYes, of major events that interested me.a aThat interested you? The past tense for a future event?a He sat up straight. aAre you aware of what that implies a" or was it simply a mistake?a aIt was no mistake, Dad.a He studied me. aAre you claiming to have a Wellsian time machine?a I nodded. aIt could be called a form of time travel.a He gripped the arms of his chair and stared at me. aI want to believe you. You are my son. But if the future is fixed, which foreknowledge implies, then Determinism is the order of the universe and that leaves no room for a"a He was after all a professional philosopher. Apparently I was stepping on some cherished theory. I interrupted him. aDonat jump to conclusions, Dad.a He blinked. aHave I overlooked something?a aIave thought about this, too, perhaps more than you. Events in time are indeed deterministic, but only in reverse. If it hasnat happened yet, we can change it. For example, sometime early this fall you smashed your car at the intersection of Summit and Elm. No one was hurt, but you faced such a repair bill that we had to cancel the Thanksgiving trip to Grandmaas, or so I was told, which is probably why I remember it. I bitterly resented missing her chocolate chess pie. Now, forewarned, you should be able to avoid the wreck.a aIall take the bus,a he announced dryly. aWhat else do you foresee, Mandrake?a aHmm. This is hard. I think it was also early in the fall of 1947 that a scandal erupted at the university, concerning a professor and his graduate student. I remember it because they published the studentas photo and I sympathized with the professor.a My father uttered a choking noise and glared at me in amazement. aHow did you hear about that?a His voice rose nearly to a shout. aIt was revealed to the Faculty Senate just this afternoon!a aSo you believe me? You accept the fact that I can see the future?a aAbsolutely not! You learned about this scandal somehow.a I sighed in regret. aI wish I could convince you. It would make my explanation more acceptable, but I cannot recall all the minutiae from 1947.a aWhy restrict your crystal ball?a he asked more calmly. aSomething must soon occur thatas important. Something always does.a I nodded reluctantly. aYes, very important, but something you wonat want to hear. You inherited high blood pressure and weak-walled cerebral arteries, yet you refused to see the doctors about it, or so Mamma said, with the most serious consequences a for us all.a aThatas not very funny, Timmy.a aNo. It was not funny at all. Even in 1947 they had drugs that would lower your blood pressure. See a doctor, Dad.a He looked into the distance. aMy blood pressure was why the army rejected me.a aI didnat know that. I wasnat told everything.a He took a breath. aWhen, Timmy?a I debated whether to answer. Maybe it would do some good. aDecember, 1949.a Again he took a breath. aGood G.o.d!a aBut itas certain only if you do nothing.a He shook himself and straightened up with a grin. aYouare slick, Timmy. You had me going there. For your information, Einstein proved time travel to be impossible.a aIn the same universe.a aIn the same a" Do you claim multiple universes? Thatas a contradiction in terms.a aIt depends on your definitions. How about multiple s.p.a.ce-time continua populating still another dimension of reality?a He stared at me.

I continued, aWe can experience only our home s.p.a.ce-time continuum a" universe, if youall accept a slight redefinition for the purposes of this discussion a" because we cannot even in principle build a device to investigate another universe. But we can project a personality a" knowledge and memories a" across universe boundaries to a simpler, that is, younger and less-cluttered version of the same brain.a He thought about it. aDo you claim to have done that?a aI have done that.a He raised an eyebrow. aWhat happened to my Timmy?a aHeas still here, sharing his body and mind with a 67 year-old version of himself from another universe.a a67!a he exclaimed.