Untouched By Human Hands Part 8

Carienomen

Enclosed: I bid, for MORSTT Metagalaxy project 3 critical reviews, ATTALA Metagalaxy "It's eleven forty-five, honey," Kay said nervously. "Do you think we could go now?"

"Let's wait a few minutes longer," Masrin said. He could hear Harf prowling around on the landing, waiting eagerly for the dot of twelve.

Masrin watched the seconds tick by on his watch.

At five minutes to twelve, he decided that he might as well find out. If the hole wasn't fixed by now, another five minutes wouldn't do it.

He placed the suitcase on the dresser, and moved a chair next to it.

"What are you doing?" Kay asked.

"I don't feel like trying those stairs at night," Masrin said. "It's bad enough playing with those pre-Indians in the daylight. I'm going to try going up, instead." His wife gave him an under-the-eyelids now-I-know-you're-cracking look.

"It's not the stairs that does it," Masrin told her again. "It's the act of going up or down. The critical distance seems to be about five feet. This will do just as well."

Kay stood nervously, clenching and unclenching both hands, as Masrin climbed on the chair and put one foot on the dresser. Then the other, and he stood up.

"I think it's all right," he said, teetering a little. "I'm going to try it a little higher."

He climbed on the suitcase.

And disappeared.

It was day, and he was in a city. But the city didn't look like New York. It was breathtakingly beautiful-so beautiful that Masrin didn't dare breathe, for fear of disturbing its fragile loveliness.

It was a place of delicate, wispy towers and buildings.

And people. But what people, Masrin thought, letting out his breath with a sigh.

The people were blue-skinned. The light was green, coming from a green-tinged sun.

Masrin drew in a breath of air, and strangled. He gasped again, and started to lose his balance. There was no air in the place! At least, no air he could breathe. He felt for a step behind him, and then tumbled down- To land, choking and writhing, on the floor of his room.

After a few moments he could breathe again. He heard Harf pounding on the door. Masrin staggered to his feet, and tried to think of something. He knew Harf; the man was probably certain by now that Masrin headed the Mafia. He would call a cop if they didn't leave. And that would ultimately result in- "Listen," he said to Kay, "I've got another idea." His throat was burning from the atmosphere of the future. However, he told himself, there was no reason why he should be surprised. He had made quite a jump forward. The composition of the Earth's atmosphere must have changed, gradually, and the people had adapted to it. But it was a poison for him.

"There are two possibilities now," he said to Kay. "One, that under the prehistoric layer is another, earlier layer. Two, that the prehistoric layer is only a temporary discontinuity. That under it, is present New York again. Follow me?"

"No."

"I'm going to try going under the prehistoric layer. It might get me down to the ground floor. Certainly, it can't be any worse." Kay considered the logic of going some thousands of years into the past in order to walk ten feet, but didn't say anything.

Masrin opened the door and went out to the stairs, followed by Kay. "Wish me luck," he said.

"Luck, nothing," Mr. Harf said, on the landing. "Just get out of here."

Masrin plunged down the stairs.

It was still morning in prehistoric New York, and the savages were still waiting for him. Masrin estimated that only about half an hour had gone by here. He didn't have time to wonder why.

He had caught them by surprise, and was twenty yards away before they saw him. They followed, and Masrin looked for a depression. He had to go down five feet, in order to get out.

He found a shelving of the land, and jumped down.

He was in water. Not just on the surface, but under. The pressure was tremendous, and Masrin could not see sunlight above him.

He must have gone through to a time when this section was under the Atlantic.

Masrin kicked furiously, eardrums bursting. He started to rise toward the surface, and- He was back on the plain, dripping wet.

This time, the savages had had enough. They looked at him, materialized in front of them, gave a shriek of horror, and bolted.

This water sprite was too strong for them.

Wearily, Masrin walked back to the hill, climbed it, and was back in the brownstone.

Kay was staring at him, and Harf's jaw was hanging slack. Masrin grinned weakly.

"Mr. Harf," he said, "will you come into my room? There's something I want to tell you."

TO: CENTER.

Office 41 ATTN: a.s.st. Controller Miglese FROM: Contractor Carienomen SUBJ: MORSTT Metagalaxy My Dear Sir: I cannot understand your reply to my bid for the job of constructing MORSTT Metagalaxy. Moreover, I do not think that obscenity has any place in a business letter.

If you have taken the trouble to inspect my latest work in ATTALA, you will see that it is, take it all for all, a beautiful job, and one that will go a long way toward holding back the fundamental chaos.

The only detail left to attend to is the matter of the impacted man. I fear I shall have to extract.

The flaw was hardening nicely, when he blundered into it again, tearing it worse than ever. No paradox as yet, but I can see one coming.

Unless he can control his immediate environment, and do it at once, I shall take the necessary step. Paradox is not allowed.

I consider it my duty to ask you to reconsider my bid for the MORSTT Metagalaxy project.

And I trust you will excuse me for bringing this oversight to your attention, but payment is still due.

Respectfully,

Carienomen

"So that's the story, Mr. Harf," Masrin said, an hour later. "I know how weird it sounds; but you saw me disappear yourself."

"That I did," Harf said. Masrin went into the bathroom to hang up his wet clothes.

"Yes, Harf said, "I guess you disappeared at that."

"I certainly did."

"And you don't want the scientists to know about your deal with the devil?" Harf asked slyly.

"No! I explained about paradox, and-"

"Let me see," Harf said. He wiped his nose vigorously. "Those carved clubs you said they had. Wouldn't one of those be valuable to a museum? You said there was nothing like it."

"What?" Masrin asked, coming out of the bathroom. "Listen, I can't touch any of that stuff. It'll result in-"

"Of course," Harf said, "I could call in some newspaper boys instead. And some scientists. I could probably make me a nice little pile out of this devil-worship."

"You wouldn't!" Kay said, remembering only that her husband had said something bad would happen.

"Be reasonable," Harf said. "All I want is one or two of those clubs. That won't cause any trouble. You can just ask your devil-"

"There's no devil involved," Masrin said. "You have no idea what part one of those clubs might have played in history. The club I take might have killed the man who would have united these people, and the North American Indians might have met the Europeans as a single nation. Think how that would change-"

"Don't hand me that stuff," Harf said. "Are you getting me a club or aren't you?"

"I've explained it to you," Masrin said wearily.

"And don't tell me any more about this paradox business. I don't understand it, anyhow. But I'll split fifty-fifty with you on what I get for the club."

"No."

"O.K. I'll be seeing you." Harf started for the door.

"Wait."

"Yes?" Harf's thin, spidery mouth was smiling now.

Masrin examined his choice of evils. If he brought back a club there was a good chance of starting a paradox, by removing all that the club had done in the past. But if he didn't, Harf would call in the newspapers and scientists. They could find out if Harf was speaking the truth by simply carrying him downstairs; something the police would do anyhow. He would disappear, and then-"

With more people in on it, a paradox would be inevitable. And all Earth might, very possibly, be removed. Although he didn't know why, Masrin knew this for a certainty.

He was lost either way, but getting the club seemed the simpler alternative.

"I'll get it," Masrin said. He walked to the staircase, followed by Kay and Harf. Kay grabbed his hand.

"Don't do it," she said.

"There's nothing else I can do." He thought for a moment of killing Harf. But that would only result in the electric chair for him. Of course, he could kill Harf and take his body into the past, and bury it.

But the corpse of a twentieth century man in prehistoric America might const.i.tute a paradox anyhow. Suppose it was dug up?

Besides, he didn't have it in him to kill a man.

Masrin kissed his wife, and walked downstairs.

There were no savages in sight on the plain, although Masrin thought he could feel their eyes, watching him. He found two clubs on the ground. The ones that struck him must be taboo, he decided, and picked one up, expecting another to crush his skull any moment. But the plain was silent.

"Good boy!" Harf said. "Hand it here!" Masrin handed him the club. He went over to Kay and put his arm around her. It was a paradox now, as certainly as if he had killed his great-great-grandfather before he was born. "That's a lovely thing," Harf said, admiring the club under the light. "Consider your rent paid for the rest of the month-"

The club disappeared from his hand.

Harf disappeared.

Kay fainted.

Masrin carried her to the bed, and splashed water on her face.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," Masrin said, suddenly very puzzled about everything. "All I know is, we're going to stay here for at least two weeks. Even if we have to eat beans."

TO: CENTER.

Office 41 ATTN: a.s.st Controller Miglese FROM: Contractor Carienomen SUBJ: MORSTT Metagalaxy Sir: Your offer of a job repairing damaged stars is an insult to my company and myself. We refuse. Let me point out my work in the past, outlined in the brochure I am enclosing. How can you offer so menial a job to one of CENTER'S greatest companies?

Again, I would like to put in my request for work on the new MORSTT Metagalaxy.

As for ATTALA Metagalaxy-the work is now completed, and a finer job cannot be found anywhere this side of chaos. The place is a wonder.

The impacted man is no longer impacted. I was forced to extract. However, I did not extract the man himself. Instead, I was able to remove one of the external influences on him. Now he can grow out normally.

A nice job, I think you'll admit, and solved with the ingenuity that characterizes all my work.

My decision was: Why extract a good man, when I could save him by pulling the rotten one beside him?

Again, I welcome your inspection. I request reconsideration on MORSTT Metagalaxy.

PAYMENT IS STILL DUE!.

Respectfully,