The Stolen Future Box Set

by Brian K. Lowe

  I only had one card, so I played it.

  “I’ve come to get you out of here,” I hissed.

  That provoked a reaction. I heard the sound of a body moving across fabric, as though he’d been lying on a bunk, then his footsteps, and then his face appeared in the opening.

  “Quick,” he whispered. “Open the door. There are no keys; it’s only locked on my side.” When I didn’t reply, he got excited. “Hurry up! They might come back.”

  “First we have to talk.” I fetched a torch and placed it so that he could see my face. His voice flattened.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want some answers. You want to get out of here. Can we make a deal?”

  He backed away, but not before I saw all the hope drain from his face.

  “Wait!” I brought the torch back to where I could see into the cell, but it didn’t help much. “Do you want to spend your life in there?”

  “No, but I don’t think you’re going to do anything about it.” I could almost hear his shrug. “‘Course, if you want to stay, I could use the company.”

  I nearly cursed his obstinacy until I realized its inspiration. He thought I was a Nuum. No wonder he wouldn’t talk to me.

  “Listen! I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Oh? Who are you?”

  “I’m the man you’ve been chasing.”

  After a moment he returned to the door. I held the torch so that he could see my face again. He stared at me hard.

  “Okay,” he said uncertainly. “What’s the deal?”

  “I told you. I need some answers. If you give them to me, I’ll get you out of here.”

  “Then talk fast. I want to be out of here before they come back.”

  “All right. First: where am I? Is this Earth? Am I on some other planet?”

  He stared at me a moment and sighed deeply. “You do get right to it, don’t you? No, you’re not on another planet. Do you know what time travel is?”

  I think that in some deep portion of my soul I was actually relieved. At least I was still on Earth! To answer his question, I nodded.

  “I’ve heard of it.”

  “Well, you’re a time traveler. And I think you set a record. I don’t know what you did to the displacement grid, but I don’t think anybody’s ever gone this far before.”

  I am proud that I kept the trembling from my voice. “How far?”

  He sighed again. “Near as I can tell, about 900,000 years.”

  It was too big a number; I couldn’t focus on it. It was more than astonishing that I could believe in time travel! I passed on to the more important question.

  “How do I get back?”

  “Sorry. You don’t.”

  “What do you mean? Aren’t you going back?”

  “Well, yeah, course we are,” he replied, scratching his head. “But not until you’re dead.”

  For some reason this seemed far less an impediment to my would-be assassin than it did to me.

  “Tell you what,” he said in a tone as normal as if he had not just pronounced my death warrant. “You let me out of here, and then we’ll talk.”

  I believe I was excused to stare. “Are you mad? Why should I let you out at all?”

  He actually laughed. “God, you’re paranoid. Listen, I’ll answer all your questions as soon as we’re both outside this cell. But I just showed you my good faith by telling you why I was here, so now it’s your turn to show me some. How do I know you won’t just leave me here?”

  Someday, when the final horn sounds and the multitudes of Mankind gather around the Lord’s throne for judgment, He will rise up to His full magnificent height, and He will point His majestic finger, and He will say:

  “Behold the irony of Man, that I should grant him reason, and he should squander it.”

  And He will be pointing at me.

  The cell door, I was told, would resist a lifetime of effort from inside the cell, but like the door at the dungeon entrance, could be opened at a touch from the outside. I tried it, and it was true. The door swung open, the prisoner offered a friendly handshake, and I instinctively returned it.

  That’s when he hit me.

  Chapter 10

  The Library

  As glib as he was, I didn’t trust the Silver Man any more than I did the Hun. So when he hit me, I was waiting for it. I grabbed his arm as I fell into the cell and in the struggle one of us kicked the door closed.

  Now we were both trapped.

  I came up fast, mindful of his intent to kill me, but he was standing at the door again, looking through the bars. After a moment he spoke.

  “You would have let me go, wouldn’t you?”

  I backed up until I felt a wall behind me. “Yes, of course. I said I would.”

  “Damn!” He hit the door with his fist. I winced. “Well,” he said, “we might as well get comfortable.”

  I watched him as he sat down on what I presumed was his bunk, though I couldn’t see it in the dimness. For several minutes we sat silently. He seemed to have nothing else to say and I doubted that he was going to answer any of my questions now.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked abruptly.

  I swallowed my surprise and tried to order my thoughts. He had already disclosed my location, but it was so fantastic that I don’t think my mind had yet embraced it. I tried to force myself to concentrate on practical considerations.

  “How did I get here?”

  His face barely glowed white in the shadows; his words appeared almost as if from a medium’s spirit. It seemed altogether too apt for this setting.

  “From what I know, you accidentally screwed up a historical survey mission. You weren’t supposed to see anything, but the rain in your location was heavier than anybody thought it’d be, and it must have shorted something. Nobody knows why you went through the co-continuum.”

  “What’s a co-continuum?”

  He snorted. “I knew you were gonna ask that. I haven’t the slightest idea. It’s the interface between time periods. The door you went through is technically called a displacement grid. It lets you go from one time period to another. That’s what the survey team was doing in the middle of your war.”

  “The survey team? Those were the men in the silver suits.”

  I could barely make out his face nodding up and down. “Yeah.”

  “I was afraid they were the Germans—the enemy. Especially when one of them shot at me.”

  There was a short bark of laughter. “You don’t have to tell me. Once the Time Board found out about that, there was hell to pay. Those guys’ll be lucky if anybody from that university ever tee-tees again.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Tee-tee. Time-travel.”

  “Ah. Uh, what’s the Time Board?”

  He shifted on the bunk and I tensed, but he did not get up.

  “Why don’t you ask me your real questions, mister? You don’t give a damn who the Time Board is. You want to know why they sent us here to kill you.”

  I let my silence be his response. He sighed.

  “It’s my job. The damned Time Board is so paranoid about anybody messing with the time stream that their number one rule is nobody prior to the 24th century travels through time. That’s when the whole thing was invented. Anybody goes through the co-continuum before that, they have to be executed.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it,” I hazarded.

  “Like I said, it’s a job. But every time these damned professors bring back an aborigine or something—” he jumped to his feet—”you’d think they’d know better!”

  “How about me? How could I have known any better?”

  “You couldn’t,” he admitted. “But at least now you understand. And besides, you’re not exactly a helpless Cro-Magnon. You’re already one up on us.”

  “He shot at me first.”

  “‘Course he did. He figured, walk through, find you, do you, and walk back. He’d done it a dozen times. Like I
said, those history geeks think they can smuggle people in and out without anybody noticing. And don’t even get me started on the religion researchers—!” By now he was pacing. I forced myself to relax. Killing me wasn’t going to get him out of this cell. “Not often one of you guys gets the better of us. That’s why they sent me. I’m the best.”

  “What about your two friends?”

  “Oh. You saw them?”

  Again I let him supply his own answer. This was supposed to be my interrogation; unfortunately, I was running out of questions.

  “Your friend couldn’t seem to find me. I wonder why?”

  “He was probably tracking you by your residual particle radiation. Were you still wearing the same clothes when you saw him?”

  “I had taken them off so I could take a bath. They were muddy.”

  “That’s it then. I knew they must’ve worn off by now because we couldn’t track you either. When you saw me I was trying to interface a datalink for information.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but there were more important questions rising in my mind.

  “What do you know about this world? Do you know anything about the Nuum?”

  “Not a blessed thing—about either one. Nobody’s ever gone near this far ahead before. Whatever jammed up the camouflage field also messed with the displacement grid. This is way out of my league.”

  I doubt that we sat there, neither one willing to start a friendly conversation, for more than an hour before someone came to see my cellmate. In the dark, it was simplicity itself to reenact the trick that had ended with me trapped inside, only this time I stood at the back of the cell while the hapless guard opened the door, completely oblivious to my presence. In seconds we were in the hall, robbing the unconscious Nuum of his keys and weapon.

  “A sword?” I hefted it for balance. It seemed too light to be real.

  My former cellmate eyed me cautiously. “Looks like. It’s made out of plastic or something. You know how to use that thing?”

  I waved it around, more for effect than anything else. “I’ve used one before.” No sense in telling him how long ago…

  “Don’t think I like the idea of you having a weapon.”

  Without taking my eyes off of my companion, I relieved the Nuum of his belt and girdled it on. Then I sheathed the sword and faced him empty-handed.

  “Would you like to try to take it away from me?”

  From my brief clutch of his arm, I could tell that the men of the 24th century must be less physical than those of the 20th. He couldn’t fight me and we both knew it.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” he said at last. “None of this’ll mean a damn if we can’t out of this building.”

  I told him I agreed and we set to work figuring the lock-and-key mechanism on the outer door. When we had it undone, I held out my hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me know where I was. For letting me know there’s a way back.”

  Although he looked unhappy, he took my hand. “My name’s Buchwalter.”

  “Charles Clee.”

  “Good luck,” he said, and I believe he meant it. Then he turned, and my best chance of ever getting home walked out of my sight forever.

  “Directory.”

  Directory. Please make your selection.

  “Does Hori Han work in this building?”

  Hori Han works in the library, level seven.

  “Please take me to level seven.”

  The lobby on level seven was equipped with its own directory, naturally, and just as naturally I couldn’t read a word of it. But by this time I was beginning to get an idea of how to find my way around. I asked for directions; it gave them promptly, and I set off down the hall feeling very pleased with myself.

  Hori Han worked alone in a small room, sitting at a flat table with various lighted buttons and some kind of moving picture screen set into its surface. Behind her several doors led to other rooms, each one marked by a single character. Hori Han looked up as I entered.

  “Yes, can I help—?” Her automatic greeting faded away as she realized who I was. In an instant she was around the table and flinging her arms about my neck.

  “We thought you’d been killed!”

  I disentangled her gently and shook my head. “No. I was caught by a mob, but I was rescued.” I indicated our surroundings. “They thought I was one of them, so they brought me here.”

  Hori leaned forward to get a better look at my face and shock gave way to horror. I hadn’t had a chance to look in a mirror since I was beaten and it only now occurred to me that I must look frightening. If a Nuum saw me like this, it would be hard to argue my way out of a visit to the doctor a second time. Thank heaven I hadn’t tried to walk through the lobby to leave the building.

  “You’ve got to see a doctor about those bruises.”

  “I can’t. The minute he performs an examination, he’ll know I’m not who I say I am—which raises a good question, now that I think of it. If they ask me, what name should I give?”

  “You can use your own. It’s unusual, but it won’t arouse any suspicion.” She glanced at my left temple, not for the first time, and I wondered just how big a bruise I was sporting there. Whatever the Nuum had given me for the pain on the flight was still working, so I had no idea how badly I was hurt.

  “You’ll have to stay here tonight,” Hori decided. “You’d attract too much attention looking like that. You can use room number two; I can fix the records. Just stay inside until I come get you.”

  “But what if someone comes in?” Her face froze with an expression as if I’d suggested using a Chaucer manuscript to line a birdcage. It took a visible effort for her to speak.

  “No one will bother you.” She shuddered. “The very idea is disgusting.”

  “My God,” I gasped. “What’s in there?”

  “It’s a library.” She led me to one of the rear doors and hustled me through. There was no light inside.

  “A library? But I can’t read!”

  “The librarian will take care of you.”

  “The librarian? But I thought you—” The door slammed and I was alone in the dark…

  “Hello. I am the Librarian.”

  …wasn’t I?

  One moment all was dark, the next there was light. But not all of a sudden; it rose softly, more gradual than dawn itself, springing from the very air and gently impinging on my eyes, the darkness now merely a mist, now dispelled altogether. And when the last had lifted, I could not but survey my surroundings and gasp with pleasure.

  Stretching further than I could have imagined, the room was lined floor to ceiling with books, broken only by faded medieval tapestries and a fireplace fit for roasting—well, me, had I been so inclined. Each shelf was dark with a shine mahogany can only achieve when rubbed by generations of scholarly hands. A second gallery wound about above my head, similarly lined with thousands of volumes.

  On a tabouret alongside the leather chair near the fireplace a brandy snifter stood ready to welcome the contents of its companion Waterford decanter. I lifted the latter, inhaled the deep aroma of its amber treasure, and swayed on my feet.

  It wasn’t until I put the decanter down again that I noticed the fire, reflected in its facets. But I wasn’t just unobservant; it hadn’t been there before.

  Then I remembered the voice, and the warmth of the room abandoned me.

  “Hello?” I ventured.

  “Good morning,” said a friendly voice behind me.

  I forced myself not to spin around. I hadn’t been shot; this had to be a good sign. Instead I turned as though I had every right in the world to be exactly where I was.

  “Good morning,” I responded. “You’re the librarian?”

  He nodded, once. The Librarian was the oldest man I had seen since my advent through the co-continuum. With his watery blue eyes, furrowed, kindly face, and white hair, he reminded me much more of an Oxford do
n than a Nuum. Even his robe complemented the comparison. Only later was I to learn how accurate my initial impression was.

  “Have you helped yourself to a brandy, sir?”

  My gaze darted guiltily back toward the decanter behind me.

  “I’m sorry. Was that yours?”

  “Not at all, sir.” Stepping past me, he decanted a glass of brandy and handed it to me. “I put it there for you.”

  The warmth of the liqueur seeped into my hand through the glass while the fumes drifted into my nostrils. It was as heavenly as before. When I finally succumbed to the temptation of tasting it, I could only close my eyes and let my palate savor the moment. All outside sensations slipped away, until only the grandfatherly voice of the librarian remained.

  “I am glad to see you enjoying it, sir. It has been many years since I have been asked to entertain anyone but a Nuum.”

  Chapter 11

  I Receive My Education

  The glass didn’t break when I dropped it. It simply hit the floor and vanished. I stared stupidly at the spot until the librarian spoke again.

  “I apologize if I startled you, sir. My appearance was designed to make you as comfortable as possible, but your brain structure is so unfamiliar that I may not have gotten everything quite correct.”

  I looked up. “My brain structure?” I repeated. “You can read my mind?”

  He smiled disarmingly. “Of course not, sir. Not in the sense that you mean. But I am able to interpret the emanations of your mind and take certain impressions. I then use those impressions to sculpt the library environment to the most useful setting. I must say, however,” he added, scanning the room, “that I have never used anything like this before.” I watched in complete bewilderment as he walked to the nearest wall and plucked a volume from a shelf. “What are these things?”

  “They’re books.”

  “What are they for?” he asked, turning it over in his hands.