The Expert Dreamers (1962) Anthology

by Frederik Pohl (ed. )

  “Will you stay here with us?” Mark Gable said, turning to me, “and help me to set up such a foundation?”

  “That I will gladly do, Mr. Gable,” I said. “We should be able to see within a few years whether the scheme works, and I’m certain that it will work. For a few years I could afford to stay here, and I could then still complete the three hundred years which were my original goal.”

  “So you would want to go through with your plan rather than live out your life with us?” asked the mayor.

  “Frankly, Mr. Mayor,” I said, “before Mr. Gable brought up the plan of the foundation, with science progressing at this rapid rate I was a little scared of being faced with further scientific progress two hundred years hence. But if Mr. Gable succeeds in stopping the progress of science and gives the art of living a chance to catch up, two hundred years hence the world should be a livable place. If Mr. Gable should not go through with his project, however, I would probably prefer to live out my life with you in the twenty-first century. How about it, Mr. Mayor?” I said. “Will you give me a job if I decide to stay?” “You don’t need a job,“ the mayor said. “You don’t seem to realize that you’re a very famous man.”

  “How does being famous provide me with a livelihood?” I asked.

  “In more ways than one,” the mayor said. “You could become a donor, for instance. Now that over half of our professional men are medical doctors, more and more wives want children with some measure of scientific ability.”

  “But, Mr. Mayor,” I said, “I’m above twenty-five.”

  “Of course,” the mayor said, “the seed would have to be marketed abroad. The rate of exchange is none too favorable,” he continued, ‘“but even so you should be able to earn a comfortable living if you decided to stay.”

  “I don’t know* Mr. Mayor,” I said. “The idea is a little novel for me; but I suppose I could get accustomed to it.” “I’m sure you could,” said the mayor. “And incidentally, whenever you decide to get rid of that junk in your mouth, I shall be glad to get an appointment for you with Elihu Smith, the dental extractor. He took care of all our children.”

  “I appreciate your kindness very much, Mr. Mayor,” I said, smiling politely and trying to hide a suddenly rising feeling of despair. All my life I have been scared of dentists and dental extractors, and somehow I suddenly became aware of the painful fact that it was not within the power of science to return me to the twentieth century.