The Nick Of Time Part 5

"Not that, either."

"Named after a famous Russian prince at the court of Catherine the Great."

"No!" cried Smith. "Potemkin: Post-temporal Kinespection. It's a great boon to democracy because no one is ever taken into custody on suspicion. Every arrest is based on absolute evidence of a crime committed, witnessed by the Second Squad. There hasn't been a case of an innocent person taken in to Minitern during the last twelve years. And Potemkin's a great time-saver, too; the Second Squad doesn't have to worry about searches and staking out locations and all that sort of thing."

"'Time-saver,'" snorted Mihalik. "That's rich."

"All this began just about the same time your second Man from Mars took over," said Cheryl thoughtfully.

Smith hesitated. "Yes," he said, "some coincidence, isn't it?"

"And they're using this Potemkin to keep tabs on us this very second," said Mihalik.

"Well," said Smith, "only if our evening together leads to some overt criminal activity."

"And if it does, they'd be busting down the door right this minute."

"I guess so."

"So they knew exactly when Cheryl and I would appear at that Agency party."

"Of course," said Smith. "That's why I was hurrying you out of there."

It was Mihalik's turn to be disgusted. "Then how the h.e.l.l did we manage to escape?" he demanded.

There was a long, empty silence in the room. "There does seem to be some sort of paradox there,"

admitted Smith. Mihalik wished that he had more champagne, but he didn't want to ask Smith for it.

"You've never explained why you think we're in trouble," said Cheryl.

"Because you're unpersons, that's why," said Smith. "And here I am, feeding unpersons and chatting with them as if they ever existed."

Mihalik gently pushed his chair away from the table. "Well," he said quietly, "I think I've had my limit of this. I think it's time to find Dr. Waters. He must be in that Agency Building somewhere."

Smith barked a loud raucous laugh. "Dr. Waters!" he said in amazement. "Why do you think Dr.

Waters would spare time to see you?"

Mihalik glared across the table. "Dr. Waters is the head of my project," he said in a low, tightly controlled voice. "He a.s.sumed the responsibility for my safety. We became pretty good friends duringmy training. He owes something to me, and I owe something to him and to the project."

"Dr. Waters probably isn't interested in your project any longer," said Smith with some amus.e.m.e.nt.

"He has much more important things to worry about. Dr. Waters is the Man from Mars."

"Dr. Bertram A. Waters?" said Mihalik, stunned.

"Of course," said Smith. "But you saw his picture and didn't recognise him."

"See, Frank?" said Cheryl. "Didn't I say it looked like him?"

Mihalik shook his head. "I don't believe it. First, Dr. Waters is a dedicated scientist; he couldn't care less about ruling the world. Second, that picture shows a guy a whole lot older that the man I know."

Smith nodded. "Dr. Waters left our present twelve years ago, to go into the future for some kind of vital work. He stayed in the future for about sixteen years, and then returned to 1984. So he's older than if he had just lived in the present all the time."

Mihalik was trying to sort out this new information. "And you say that now he's the boss of the world?"

"That's right."

"And he's the head of the Agency, and that means he's given the order to hunt Cheryl and me down?"

"Right again."

"I'll never believe that," said Mihalik with finality.

Smith shrugged. "Suit yourself. I've tried to help you; but if you insist on sticking your own head into a noose, there's nothing more I can do." Kalila appeared with liqueur gla.s.ses and a crystal decanter. "We'll take that in the other room," said Smith. He indicated to his guests that they should precede him into the parlor. Mihalik and Cheryl took seats on a sofa, and Smith dropped into an overstuffed armchair. They sipped the sweet liqueur for a few moments and studied each other.

"All right," said Cheryl, "I'm willing to accept all this for the sake of argument. Now please explain those three slogans we see all over the place."

This was a safer topic for discussion, and Smith seemed more relaxed. "They belong to Minipeep, the Ministry of People. There is a ma.s.sive program under way at the moment to resettle great numbers of people; the poor souls come from lands more crowded and poverty-stricken than here. Not everyone in the world is as rich and comfortable as we have it in London, I'm afraid; but the Agency is taking care of the situation. The goal is to have every individual in the world fitted into just such a rewarding life before the turn of the century. I think we'll succeed."

"That's truly amazing," said Cheryl. "Then that's why we've seen so few people about. Most of your population's been resettled."

"That's precisely it," said Smith, with a touch of pride. "I have a small part in the process, myself."

"And then the first slogan means--"

Smith interrupted. "It means simply that the less people there are, the more there is for the remaining folk."

Cheryl shook her head. "Your slogan's wrong. It should be 'fewer'"

"I don't follow you," said Smith.

"LESS IS MORE is a phrase from a poem by Robert Browning," said Cheryl. "It was used as a general statement about art by the architect Mies van der Rohe. If Minipeep is using it the way you mean, it should be FEWER IS MORE. Or have you resettled grammar, as well?"

Smith looked at Mihalik and Cheryl and mused, "A fool and a pedant; what awful company to be arrested in."

The sentiment pa.s.sed over Mihalik's head. "The second slogan, MARS IS EARTH, obviously refers to the Man from Mars."

"That's your first point of the evening, Mr. Mihalik," said Smith sourly.

"But I don't understand TOMORROW IS YESTERDAY."

Smith finished the last of his liqueur. "It becomes simple enough when you realize that the resettlement I mentioned takes place not in s.p.a.ce, but in time. We find new homes for the huddled ma.s.ses and thewretched refuse on some bright, prosperous day in some long-ago year. They are given a new start in the colonial Empire of the Past, and we are relieved of the burden of their welfare."

The implications of this casual statement horrified both Mihalik and Cheryl. They had spent only a year imprisoned in the past, on one "bright, prosperous day," and only their mutual love and will to survive saved them from madness. They considered what it must be like for the "colonials," who were doomed to spend the remainder of their lives repeating the same day endlessly, without hope of alteration or rescue.

"That's the catch," said Mihalik finally. "I knew we'd hear it sooner or later."

Smith pretended he didn't know what Mihalik meant. "We simply don't see it that way," he said. "In any event, you have no right to make judgments about the way we handle our affairs; you don't even belong to this world. I suppose your world is governed better."

"No," said Cheryl, "we come from a place that's pretty terrible in a lot of ways. We are hungry and cold and frightened. But at least we don't solve our problems by casting millions of other people into a bottomless pit and forgetting them. And we don't have an Agency looking over our shoulders every moment of the day."

Smith made a disdainful gesture. "No, you don't have resettlement, and you don't have the Agency; but I'll bet neither of you ever tasted a Chateau Latour before, either."

"Your Chateau is too expensive," said Cheryl.

"That," said Smith, "is a matter of opinion, my righteous young lady."

"Yes," Mihalik said, "but we know your opinion. I wonder what the people you've dumped into history would say about it. They've had the chance to spend a few years watching the same dead leaves blow by at the same time every afternoon. It gets very boring, let me tell you."

That didn't concern Smith. "Only if you have no other occupation," he said. "Boredom goes hand in hand with idleness. I can't bring myself to fret over such beggars."

Cheryl held up a hand. "Forget it, Frank," she said disgustedly. "You can't reason with him."

"Well," said Mihalik in bewilderment, "what are we going to do?"

"You might stay here," said Smith, affable once more. "Learn to love our world. It isn't difficult. It sounds to me as if your own has very little to offer."

Mihalik stood up and took Cheryl's hand. "Come on, honey," he said, "let's go see the chief.

Somehow in this place they've forgotten the meaning of 'home.'"

As they left Smith's apartment, they heard him laughing. Mihalik slammed the door behind him. It was still very cold outside.

Checking into the Hyatt Infinity When Mihalik and Cheryl arrived at the Agency Plaza, they learned that things were generally as Smith had described them. This Agency, whatever it was, had entirely replaced the previous world order.

"Man from Mars" was now merely an ornamental t.i.tle, and the word "Mars" did not appear anywhere on the building's directory. They found Dr. Waters's name, and learned that his offices were on the 111th floor.

"Bet he has a nice view," said Mihalik, as they rode up in an express elevator, listening to gentle instrumental versions of songs they couldn't identify. Such piped-in music had disappeared from their own world as a result of an international movement; a pet.i.tion had been signed by over one and a half billion people. Hearing the soft music now gave the time travelers a melancholy nostalgia.

Immediately beyond the bank of elevators was a corridor leading to a checkpoint; the way was guarded by several armed men and women, all wearing the same style silver and blue uniform the general had worn at the party. One of the men stepped forward as if to block Mihalik's way. "Yes?" he said in a gruff voice.

"I want to see Dr. Waters," Mihalik said. "It's me, Frank Mihalik. And Cheryl. He'll want to see us, just let him know we're out here."

The man in the Agency uniform gave them both a quick but thorough scrutiny, then turned to aspeaker mounted in a wall. There was a small holoscreen there, too, but Mihalik couldn't see to whom the soldier was reporting.

"You know," said Cheryl, "if Smith's story were completely accurate, the Second Squad would know we're here, and these guards would have been ready for us."

"I don't know what to believe," said Mihalik. "I'm just waiting until I can hear it all from Dr. Waters himself."

The soldier returned, his expression respectful. "Just walk right through here, please," he said. "Right down the corridor and past that officer at the desk. He'll buzz you through. Dr. Waters's office is just beyond that."

"Thank you," said Mihalik. He was on his best behavior, and minding his manners. He let Cheryl go through first. Whatever his relationship had been to Dr. Waters in the past, Mihalik was now going to meet the ruler of the world. Everything around him indicated that this was a no-nonsense kind of place.

He suddenly got the unhappy notion that this interview might not be so easy as he had figured.

They went by all the security checks as swiftly as though a guardian angel hovered above them. In a way, that was true; Dr. Waters had personally ordered that Mihalik and Cheryl be shown every courtesy. As they approached nearer to Waters's suite, the carpeting was more luxurious. Mihalik had never walked on anything like it, not even during the three-day all-expenses-paid holiday he had been given just before his leap through time. He had gone to Russell Stoverworld in Orlando, Florida.

Dr. Waters walked through the door to meet them. "Frank!" he said, smiling. "And Cheryl!

Marvelous to see you both! It's been a remarkable day, hasn't it?"

"Dr. Waters--" began Mihalik.

"Frank, come into my office. Sit down, be comfortable. I want to hear all about your adventure.

Sorry I couldn't be at your reception. No rest for the weary, you know. Look out there, isn't that beautiful? Lonely at the top, though, just like they say. Cheryl, you look lovely. Did you like the past?

1939, wasn't it? World's Fair, I understand. Bit of a muddle about bringing you back, I believe. We've got that all worked out now, I hear. Best men and women working around the clock. Never happen again, I promise you. Well."

Mihalik was struck dumb with astonishment. Dr. Waters never spoke that way. He was a thoughtful, reticent man. When you were with him, you were always aware that his powerful brain was constantly observing, cataloguing, evaluating, and deciding; but he rarely shared whatever important conclusions he reached. He was a tall, slender man, strong, but not in a bulky way. He had -- or he had had, in the proper 1996 -- black hair in a sharp widow's peak; a narrow, straight nose; deep dark eyes that people unfailingly described as "magnetic"; prominent cheekbones that gave his face a long, somewhat sinister appearance; and his one affectation -- a carefully trimmed mustache of the sort film stars wore when the city of Hollywood still existed. He liked stylish clothing, and customarily wore a dinner jacket and black tie in the evening. Someone had once remarked, accurately, that Dr. Waters looked like Satan played by a young Erroll Flynn.

The Dr. Waters who stood smiling at Mihalik was older, grayer, and a little slump-shouldered from the weight of his duties; he had eliminated the mustache. Mihalik thought the man looked no more like his project's administrator than the giant photograph had. And on top of that, it seemed that Waters's whole manner had changed as well. Mihalik glanced at Cheryl; she gave him a little shrug to indicate that she was just as perplexed.

"Dr. Waters," said Mihalik, trying desperately to calm down a little, "we met this man Smith who said--"

"Smith!" cried Waters. "Yes, of course you'd run into him. Told him to go to that party and take care of you. The man can be a little hard to bear sometimes, thinks he knows absolutely everything. He used to give me a lot of trouble a few years ago, but I changed his tune. He'll argue with you all night if you let him, but the thing to do is tell him right off you won't stand for it. He won't dare use that on me anymore.

Loves me like a brother. Of course, I'm the ruler of the world now, so maybe that has something to do with it. Just as hard to put up with as the arguing. Ha ha! What did he tell you? Some rot about puttingyou right back to work, no doubt. Well, never mind him. How would you and Cheryl like a vacation?

You've earned one, no doubt about it. Where, though? Anywhere you like, you just name it. There's n.o.body in Venice this time of year, but I wouldn't recommend it."

Mihalik took a deep breath and tried again. "Sir, there's been some kind of terrible accident, and you're the only hope we have of setting everything right. Even if you aren't the Dr. Waters we knew, you must have the knowledge and imagination necessary to help us. This isn't our world. This isn't the 1996 we left; it's all different. We've got to know if we can get back to our own, or if it's been destroyed forever and replaced by this. Can you do something, or must we spend the rest of our lives here?"

Dr. Waters seated himself comfortably behind his desk and gazed thoughtfully for a while at the panoramic view of London. From the 111th floor, the city looked even less like the London of Mihalik's world. There was a scattering of buildings here and there; once in a while a road joined a few blocks of houses or apartment buildings; there were several large blocky edifices that must have been the various ministries; but all in all the city was comprised mostly of large park-like expanses, clad now in snowy white. The peaceful stillness was by far the most alien quality of this false universe.

The ruler of the world turned at last and faced Mihalik. "Put your minds at rest," he said. "You won't have to stay among us, if that's your choice. Glad to find a home for you. Get right to work on it. Sad to hear that you're rejecting our simple, rather comfortable society. It's been a little project of mine, you know, getting the world into decent shape. Don't know what your world is like, but it must be something special, if you're in such a rush to return. Do my best for you, of course, but it's not so easy. Not just a case of tapping your heels together and wishing. You're not Dorothy, and your separate reality's not Kansas."

"It's not a matter of rejection, Dr. Waters," said Cheryl. "It's just that everything we know, everyone we love, our own past and our own future, all of that is in another world different from this. We just want our own place, better or worse than yours as it may be."

Dr. Waters nodded sadly. "And I suppose there's another Dr. Waters there, too, eh? Not like I am, I guess. Different in some ways. If you don't have time travel, then your Dr. Waters hasn't gone into the future. He's younger, am I right? Still has the mustache, no doubt. Well, maybe you're quite correct; maybe my younger self was more likable." He sighed. "When you get older, you'll see that the road from youth to middle age is not so straight as it seems. I often wonder how I got here myself. Where were the turnings? A small choice, a decision that didn't seem important at the time -- thousands of them add together, and what you're left with is what you see every morning in the mirror." His voice trailed off.

Mihalik wondered why it was so difficult to keep Dr. Waters's mind on the point of the conversation.

"This Smith guy mentioned something about the Second Squad, and that Cheryl and I could expect trouble from them."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Waters. He looked uncomfortable. "That's quite true. You're supposed to be arrested. Ought to occur just as you leave this office. They'll take you away, toss you into Minitern, probably never see you again. You'll be resettled, if you survive. Best thing for everybody. We'll find a nice sunny day for you. Even let you pick the year. Any year you like. You just name it."

Cheryl got quickly to her feet. "But why?" she cried.

Dr. Waters looked even sadder. "Have to," he said. "You're unpersons."

"Smith called us that," said Mihalik. "What the h.e.l.l does it mean?"

The Man from Mars toyed with a small round gla.s.s paperweight on his desk. The paperweight had a bit of pink coral embedded in it. He didn't look up at Mihalik as he explained. "You're not the real Frank Mihalik, or the real Cheryl -- that is, the ones we sent through time yesterday, to keep the strands of temporal unity untangled. You're the Frank and Cheryl from some other universe, coexistent with ours.

So you're not even human beings; you're figments of the cosmic imagination. A disruption of our conveniently regulated society. Well, we know how to deal with disruptions. Cause you no unnecessary pain, I a.s.sure you. Though there may be a good deal of necessary pain if you're particularly hard to persuade. The Frank and Cheryl of this world would have gone off happily to be resettled, proud of the chance. LESS IS MORE, you know. But you're not them; they're gone." "That's right," said Mihalik, slamming a fist on Waters's desk. "We're here and they're not. Where did they go?"