Various Fiction

by Robert Sheckley

“Of course,” said the captain thoughtfully, “if you should suddenly turn vicious, knock me over the head with this heavy paperweight, grab my personal Time Traveler—which I keep in the second shelf of that cabinet—and return to your friends in Sector Three, there would really be nothing I could do about it.”

  “Huh?”

  The captain turned toward the window, leaving his paper-weight within Eldridge’s easy reach.

  “It’s really terrible,” he commented, “the things one will consider doing for a boyhood hero. But, of course, you’re a law-abiding man. You would never do such a thing and I have psychological reports to prove it.”

  “Thanks,” Eldridge said. He lifted the paperweight and tapped the captain lightly over the head. Smiling, the captain slumped behind his desk. Eldridge found the Traveler in the cabinet, and set it for Sector Three. He sighed deeply and pushed the button.

  Again he was overcome by darkness.

  WHEN he opened his eyes, he was standing on a plain of parched yellow ground. Around him stretched a treeless waste, and a dusty wind blew in his face. Ahead, he could see several brick buildings and a row of tents, built along the side of a dried-out gully. He walked toward them.

  This future, he decided, must have seen another climatic shift. The fierce sun had baked the land, drying up the streams and rivers. If the trend continued, he could understand why the next future was Uncivilized. It was probably Unpopulated.

  He was very tired. He had not eaten all day—or for several thousand years, depending on how you count. But that, he realized, was a false paradox, one that Alfredex would certainly demolish with symbolic logic. To hell with logic. To hell with science, paradox, everything. He would run no further. There had to be room for him in this dusty land. The people here—a proud, independent sort—would not give him up. They believed in justice, not the law. Here he would stay, work, grow old, and forget Eldridge I and his crazy schemes.

  When he reached the village, he saw that the people were already assembled to greet him. They were dressed in long, flowing robes, like Arabian burnooses, the only logical attire for the climate.

  A bearded patriarch stepped forward and nodded gravely at Eldridge. “The ancient sayings are true. For every beginning there is an ending.” Eldridge agreed politely. “Anyone got a drink of water?”

  “It is truly written,” the patriarch continued, “that the thief, given a universe to wander, will ultimately return to the scene of his crime.”

  “Crime?” Eldridge asked, feeling an uneasy tingle in his stomach.

  “Crime,” the patriarch repeated.

  A man in the crowd shouted, “It’s a stupid bird that fouls its own nest!” The people roared with laughter, but Eldridge didn’t like the sound. It was cruel laughter.

  “Ingratitude breeds betrayal,” the patriarch said. “Evil is omnipresent. We liked you, Thomas Eldridge. You came to us with your strange machine, bearing booty, and we recognized your proud spirit. It made you one of us. We protected you from your enemies in the Wet Worlds. What did it matter to .us if you had wronged them? Had they not wronged you? An eye for an eye!” The crowd growled approvingly. “But what did I do?” Eldridge wanted to know. The crowd converged on him, waving clubs and knives. A row of men in dark blue cloaks held them off, and Eldridge realized that there were policemen even here.

  “Tell me what I did,” he persisted as the policemen took the Traveler from him.

  “You axe guilty of sabotage and murder,” the patriarch told him.

  ELDRIDGE stared around wildly. He had fled a petty larceny charge in Sector One, only to find himself accused of it in Sector Two. He had retreated to Sector Three, where he was wanted for murder and sabotage. He smiled amiably. “You know, all I ever really wanted was a warm drowsy country, books, congenial neighbors, and the love of a good—” When he recovered, he found himself lying on packed earth in a small brick jail. Through a slitted window, he could see an insignificant strip of sunset. Outside the wooden door, someone was wailing a song.

  He found a bowl of food beside him and wolfed down the unfamiliar stuff. After drinking some water from another bowl, he propped himself against the wall. Through his narrow window, the sunset was fading. In the courtyard, a gang of men were erecting a gallows. “Jailor!” Eldridge shouted. In a few moments, he heard the clump of footsteps. “I need a lawyer,” he said.

  “We have no lawyers here,” the man replied proudly. “Here we have justice.” He marched off.

  Eldridge began to revise his ideas about justice without law. It was very good as an idea—but a horror as reality.

  He lay on the floor and tried to think. No thoughts came. He could hear the workmen laughing and joking as they built the gallows. They worked late into the twilight.

  In the early evening, Eldridge heard the key turn in his lock. Two men entered. One was middle-aged, with a small, well-trimmed beard. The other was about Eldridge’s age, broad-shouldered and deeply tanned.

  “Do you remember me?” the middle-aged man asked. “Should I?”

  “You should. I was her father.”

  “And I was her fiance,” the young man said. He took a threatening step forward.

  The bearded man restrained him. “I know how you feel, Morgel, but he will pay for his crimes on the gallows.”

  “Hanging is too good for him, Mr. Becker,” Morgel argued. “He should be drawn, quartered, burned and scattered to the wind.”

  “Yes, but we are a just and merciful people,” Becker said virtuously.

  “Whose father?” Eldridge asked. “Whose fiance?” The two men looked at each other.

  “What did I do?” Eldridge asked. Becker told him.

  HE had come to them from Sector Two, loaded with loot, Becker explained. The people of Sector Three accepted him. They were a simple folk, direct and quick-tempered, the inheritors of a wasted, war-torn Earth. In Sector Three, the minerals were gone, the soil had lost its fertility. Huge tracts of land were radioactive. And the sun continued to beat down, the glaciers melted, and the oceans continued to rise.

  The men of Sector Three were struggling back to civilization. They had the rudiments of a manufacturing system and a few power installations. Eldridge had increased the output of these stations, given them a lighting system, and taught them the rudiments of sanitary processing. He continued his explorations into the Unexplored Sectors beyond Sector Three. He became a popular hero and the people of Sector Three loved and protected him. Eldridge had repaid this kindness by abducting Becker’s daughter. This attractive young lady had been engaged to Morgel. Preparations were made for her marriage. Eldridge ignored all this and showed his true nature by kidnaping her one dark night and placing her in an infernal machine of his own making. When he turned the invention on, the girl vanished. The overloaded power lines blew out every installation for miles around. Murder and sabotage!

  But the irate mob had not been able to reach Eldridge in time. He had stuffed some of his loot into a knapsack, grabbed his Traveler and vanished.

  “I did all that?” Eldridge gasped.

  “Before witnesses,” Becker said. “Your remaining loot is in the warehouse. We could deduce nothing from it.”

  With both men staring him full in the face, Eldridge looked at the ground. Now he knew what he had done in Sector Three.

  The murder charge was probably false, though. Apparently he had built a heavy-duty Traveler and sent the girl somewhere, without the intermediate stops required by the portable models.Not that anyone would believe him. These people had never heard of such a civilized concept as habeas corpus.

  “Why did you do it?” Becker asked.

  Eldridge shrugged his shoulders and shook his head helplessly.

  “Didn’t I treat you like my own son? Didn’t I turn back the police of Sector Two? Didn’t I feed you, clothe you? Why—why—did you do it?” All Eldridge could do was shrug his shoulders and go on helplessly shaking his head.

  “Very well,” Becker said. “Tell
your secret to the hangman in the morning.” He took Morgel by the arm and left.

  IF Eldridge had had a gun, he might have shot himself on the spot. All the evidence pointed to potentialities for evil in him that he had never suspected. He was running out of time. In the morning, he would hang. And it was unfair, all of it. He was an innocent bystander, continually running into the consequences of his former—or later—actions. But only Eldridge I possessed the motives and knew the answers.

  Even if his thefts were justified, why had he stolen potatoes, lifebelts, mirrors and such?

  What had he done with the girl?

  What was he trying to accomplish?

  Wearily, Eldridge closed his eyes and drifted into a troubled half-sleep. He heard a faint scraping noise and looked up.

  Viglin was stand there, a Traveler in his hands.

  Eldridge was too tired to be very surprised. He looked for a moment, then said, “Come for one last gloat?”

  “I didn’t plan it this way,” Viglin protested, mopping his perspiring face.

  “You must believe that. I never wanted you killed, Tom.” Eldridge sat up and looked closely at Viglin. “You did steal my invention, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Viglin confessed. “But I was going to do the right thing by you. I would have split the profits.”

  “Then why did you steal it?”

  Viglin looked uncomfortable. “You weren’t interested in money at all.”

  “So you tricked me into signing over my rights?”

  “If I hadn’t, someone else would have, Tom. I was just saving you from your own unworldliness. I intended to cut you in—I swear it!” He wiped his forehead again. “But I never dreamed it would turn out like this.”

  “And then you framed me for those thefts,” Eldridge said. “What?” Viglin appeared to be genuinely surprised. “No, Tom. You did steal those things. It worked out perfectly for me—until now.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Would I come here to lie? I’ve admitted stealing your invention. Why would I lie about anything else?”

  “Then why did I steal?”

  “I think you had some sort of wild scheme in the Uninhabited Sectors, but I don’t really know. It doesn’t matter. Listen to me now. There’s no way I can call off the lawsuit—it’s a temporal matter now—but I can get you out of here.”

  “Where will I go?” Eldridge asked hopelessly. “The cops are looking for me all through time.”

  “I’ll hide you on my estate. I mean it. You can lie low until the statute of limitations has expired. They’d never think of searching my place for you.”

  “And the rights on my invention?”

  “I’m keeping them,” Viglin said, with a touch of his former confidence. “I can’t turn them over to you without making myself liable for temporal action. But I will share them. And you do need a business partner.”

  “All right, let’s get out of here,” Eldridge said.

  VIGLIN had brought along a number of tools, which he handled with suspicious proficiency. Within minutes, they were out of the cell and hiding in the dark courtyard.

  “This Traveler’s pretty weak,” Viglin whispered, checking the batteries in his machine. “Could we possibly get yours?”

  “It should be in the storehouse,” Eldridge said. The storehouse was unguarded and Viglin made short work of the lock. Inside, they found Eldridge II’s machine beside Eldridge I’s preposterous, bewildering loot.

  “Let’s go,” Viglin said.

  Eldridge shook his head. “What’s wrong?” asked Viglin, annoyed. “I’m not going.”

  “Listen, Tom, I know there’s no reason why you should trust me. But I really will give you sanctuary. I’m not lying to you.”

  “I believe you,” Eldridge said. “Just the same, I’m not going back.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  Eldridge had been wondering about that ever since they had broken out of the cell. He was at the crossroads now. He could return with Viglin or he could go on alone.

  There was no choice, really. He had to assume that he had known what he was doing the first time. Right or wrong, he was going to keep faith and meet whatever appointments he had made with the future.

  “I’m going into the Uninhabited Sectors,” Eldridge said. He found a sack and began loading it with potatoes and carrot seeds.

  “You can’t!” Viglin objected. “The first time, you ended up in 1954. You might not be so lucky this time. You might be canceled out completely.” Eldridge had loaded all the potatoes and the packages of carrot seeds. Next he slipped in the World Literature Sets, the lifebelts, the cans of shark repellant and the mirrors. On top of this he put the megacharge hand pistols.

  “Have you any idea what you’re going to do with that stuff?”

  “Not the slightest,” Eldridge said, buttoning the Symphonic Tape Runs inside his shirt.

  “But they must fit somewhere.”

  Viglin sighed heavily. “Don’t forget, you have to allow half an hour between jumps or you’ll get canceled. Have you got a watch?”

  “No, I left it in my room.”

  “Take this one. Sportsman’s Special.” Viglin attached it to Eldridge’s wrist.

  “Good luck, Tom. I mean that.”

  “Thanks.” Eldridge set the button for the farthest jump into the future he could make. He grinned at Viglin and pushed the button. There was the usual moment of blackness, then a sudden icy shock. When Eldridge opened his eyes, he found that he was under water.

  HE found his way to the surface, struggling against the weight of the sack. Once his head was above water, he looked around for the nearest land. There was no land. Long, smooth-backed waves slid toward him from the limitless horizon, lifted him and ran on, toward a hidden shore. Eldridge fumbled in his sack, found the lifebelts and inflated them. Soon he was bobbing on the surface, trying to figure out what had happened to New York State.

  Each jump into the future had brought him to a hotter climate. Here, countless thousands of years past 1954, the glaciers must have melted. A good part of the Earth was probably submerged.

  He had planned well in taking the lifebelts. It gave him confidence for the rest of the journey. Now he would just have to float for half an hour, to avoid cancelation.

  He leaned back, supported by his lifebelts, and admired the cloud formations in the sky. Something brushed against him.

  Eldridge looked down and saw a long black shape glide under his feet. Another joined it and they began to move hungrily toward him. Sharks!

  He fumbled wildly with the sack, spilling out the mirrors in his hurry, and found a can of shark repellant. He opened it, spilled it overboard, and an orange blotch began to spread on the blue-black water.

  There were three sharks now. They swam warily around the spreading circle of repellant. A fourth joined them, lunged into the orange smear, and retreated quickly to clean water. Eldridge was glad the future had produced a shark repellant that really worked.

  In five minutes, some of the orange had dissipated. He opened another can. The sharks didn’t give up hope, but they wouldn’t swim into the tainted water. He emptied the cans every five minutes. The stalemate held through Eldridge’s half-hour wait.

  He checked his settings and tightened his grip on the sack. He didn’t know what the mirrors or potatoes were for, or why carrot seeds were critical. He would just have to take his chances.

  He pressed the button and went into the familiar darkness. He found himself ankle-deep in a thick, evil-smelling bog. The heat was stifling and a cloud of huge gnats buzzed around his head.

  PULLING himself out of the gluey mud, accompanied by the hiss and click of unseen life, Eldridge found firmer footing under a small tree. Around him was green jungle, shot through with riotous purples and reds. Eldridge settled against the tree to wait out his half hour. In this future, apparently, the ocean waters had receded and the primeval jungle had sprung up. Were there any humans here? Were the
re any left on Earth? He wasn’t at all sure. It looked as though the world was starting over.

  Eldridge heard a bleating noise and saw a dull green shape move against the brighter green of the foliage. Something was coming toward him. He watched. It was about twelve feet tall, with a lizard’s wrinkled hide and wide splay feet. It looked amazingly like a small dinosaur. Eldridge watched the big reptile warily. Most dinosaurs were herbivorous, he reminded himself, especially the ones that lived in swamps. This one probably just wanted to sniff him. Then it would return to cropping grass. The dinosaur yawned, revealing a magnificent set of pointed teeth, and began to approach Eldridge with an air of determination.

  Eldridge dipped into the sack, pushed irrelevant items out of the way, and grabbed a megacharge hand pistol.

  This had better be it, he prayed, and fired.

  The dinosaur vanished in a spray of smoke. There were only a few shreds of flesh and a smell of ozone to show where it had been. Eldridge looked at the megacharge hand pistol with new respect. Now he understood why it was so expensive.

  During the next half hour, a number of jungle inhabitants took a lively interest in him. Each pistol was good for only a few firings—no surprise, considering their destructiveness. His last one began to lose its charge; he had to club off a pterodactyl with the butt.

  When the half hour was over, he set the dial again, wishing he knew what lay ahead. He wondered how he was supposed to face new dangers with some books, potatoes, carrot seeds and mirrors.

  Perhaps there were no dangers ahead.

  There was only one way to find out. He pressed the button.

  HE was on a grassy hillside. The dense jungle had disappeared. Now there was a breeze-swept pine forest stretching before him, solid ground underfoot, and a temperate sun in the sky.

  Eldridge’s pulse quickened at the thought that this might be his goal. He had always had an atavistic streak, a desire to find a place untouched by civilization. The embittered Eldridge I, robbed and betrayed, must have felt it even more strongly.

  It was a little disappointing. Still, it wasn’t too bad, he decided. Except for the loneliness. If only there were people—