“They must have a compelling reason,” said the secretary, “whoever they are. They’re acting from some sort of desperation. Certainly they know we are limited in our capacity to put them up and keep them.”
“Children of our children,” said the President, “many times removed. If they’re truly from the future they are our descendants. We can’t turn our backs on them.”
“I hope everyone feels the same about it,” said Wilson. “They’ll create an economic pinch if they keep coming and in an economic pinch there will be resentment. We talk about the present generation gap. Think of how much greater that gap will be when not two generations, but a number are involved.”
“The churches can help a lot,” said the President, “if they will. If they don’t, we could be in trouble. Let one loud-mouthed evangelist start some pulpit-thumping and we’ve had it.”
Wilson grinned. “You’re talking about Billings, sir. If you think it would be all right, I could get in touch with him. We knew one another back in college. I can talk with him, but I don’t know what good I’ll do.”
“Do what you can,” said the President. “Reason with him. If he refuses to see reason we’ll find someone who can really lean on him. What bothers me is the welfare population. Bread out of their mouths to feed all these extra mouths. It’ll take fast footwork to keep them in line. The labor unions may be scared by all the extra manpower, but they are hardheaded people, all of them. A man can talk to them. They understand economics and you can make some sense to them.”
The intercom came to life. The President thumbed the lever.
“Secretary Williams on the line, sir.”
Wilson stood up to leave. The President reached for the phone. He looked up at Wilson.
“Stay close,” said the President.
“I intend to, sir,” said Wilson.
4. All the buttons on Judy’s phone were blinking. She was talking quietly into the transmitter. The spindle on her desk was festooned with notes.
When Wilson came into the office she hung up. The lights kept on blinking.
“The lounge is full,” she said. “There is one urgent message. Tom Manning has something for you. Said it is top important. Shall I ring him?”
“You carry on,” said Wilson. “I’ll get him.”
He sat down at his desk, hauled the phone close and dialed.
“Tom, this is Steve. Judy said you have something important.”
“I think we do,” said Manning. “Molly has someone. Seems to be a sort of leader of the gang out in Virginia. Don’t know how his credentials run, if there are credentials. But the thing is, he wants to talk with the President. Says he can explain. In fact, he insists on explaining.”
“Has he talked with Molly?”
“Some. But not important stuff. He is reserving that.”
“It has to be the President?”
“He says so. His name is Maynard Gale. He has a daughter with him. Name of Alice.”
“Why don’t you ask Molly to bring them along? Back way, not out in front. I’ll notify the gate. I’ll see what can be done.”
“There’s just one thing, Steve.”
“Yes?”
“Molly found this guy. She has him hidden. He is her exclusive.”
“No,” said Wilson.
“Yes,” insisted Manning. “She sits in on it. It has to be that way. Goddamn it, Steve, it’s only fair. You can’t ask us to share this. Bentley snagged him first and Molly hung onto him.”
“What you’re asking me to do would ruin me. You know that as well as I do. The other press associations, The Times, The Post, all the rest of them—”
“You could announce it,” said Manning. “You’d get the information. AH we want is an exclusive interview with Gale. You owe us that much, Steve.”
“I’d be willing to announce that Global brought him in,” said Wilson. “You’d be given full credit for it.”
“But no exclusive interview?”
“You have the man right now. Get your interview. Get it first, then bring him in. That would be your privilege. I might not like it, Tom, but there’s not a thing I could do to stop it.”
“But he won’t talk until he’s seen the President. You could release him to us once he’s talked.”
“We have no hold on him. Not at the moment anyhow. We would have no right to release him to anyone. And how do you know he’s what he says he is?”
“I can’t be sure, of course,” said Manning. “But he knows what is going on. He’s part of what is going on. He has things all of us need to know. You wouldn’t have to buy his story. You could listen, then exercise your judgment.”
“Tom, I can’t promise anything at all. You know I can’t. I’m surprised you asked.”
“Call me back after you’ve thought it over,” Manning said. “Now, wait a second, Tom.”
“What is it now?”
“It seems to me you might be running on thin ice. You’re withholding vital information.”
“We have no information.”
“A vital source of information, then. Public policy may be at issue. And what is more, you are holding the man against his will.”
“We’re not holding him. He’s sticking tight to us. He figures we are the only ones who can get him to the White House.”
“Well, impeding him. Refusing to give him the assistance that he needs. And—I can’t be sure of this, I can only guess—you might be dealing with the equivalent of an ambassador.”
“Steve, you can’t lean on me. We’ve been friends too long.”
“Let me tell you something, Tom, I’m not going along with this. Friendship or not. I have a hunch I could get a court order within the hour.”
“You couldn’t get away with it.”
“You’d better talk to your lawyer. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
He slammed down the phone and stood up.
“What was that all about?” asked Judy.
“Tom tried to bluff me.”
“You were pretty rough on him.”
“Damn it, Judy, I had to be. If I had knuckled under—I couldn’t knuckle under. In this job you don’t make any deals.”
“They’re getting impatient out there, Steve.”
“Okay. You better let them in.” They came in with a rush, quietly, orderly, finding their accustomed seats. Judy closed the doors.
“You have anything for us, Steve?” AP asked.
“No statement,” said Wilson. “Really not anything at all. I guess all I have to say is that I’ll let you know as soon as there is anything to tell. As of less than half an hour ago, the President knew no more about this than you do. He will .have a statement later, as soon as he has some data to base a statement on. I guess the only thing I can tell you is that the armed forces will be assigned the job of getting these people under shelter and providing food and other necessities for them. This is only an emergency measure. A more comprehensive plan will be worked out later, perhaps involving a number of agencies.”
“Have you any idea,” asked the Washington Post, “who our visitors are?”
“None at all,” said Wilson. “Nothing definite. Not who they are or where they come from or why they came or how.”
“You don’t buy their story they are coming from the future?”
“I didn’t say that, John. We maintain the open mind of ignorance. We simply do not know.”
“Mr. Wilson,” The New York Times asked, “has any contact been made with any of the visitors who can supply us facts? Have any conversations been initiated with these people?”
“At the moment, no.”
“Can we assume from your answer that such a conversation may be imminent?”
“Actually no such assumption would be justified. The administration is anxious, naturally, to learn what it’s all about, but this event began happening not a great deal longer than an hour ago. There simply has been no time to get much done. I think all of you can understand tha
t.”
“But you do anticipate there’ll be some conversations.”
“I can only repeat that the administration is anxious to know what is going on. I would think that some time soon we may be talking with some of the people. Not that I know of any actual plans to do so, but surely that would seem to be an early logical course. It occurs to me that members of the press may already have talked with some of them. You may be way ahead of us.”
“We have tried,” said UPI, “but none of them is saying much. It’s almost as if they had been coached to say as little as possible. They will simply say they have come from the future—from five hundred years ahead—and they apologize for disturbing us, but explain it was a matter of life and death for them to come. Beyond that, nothing. We are simply getting nowhere with them. I wonder, Steve, will the President be going on television?”
“I would think he might. I can’t tell you when. I’ll let you know immediately when a time is set.”
“Mr. Wilson,” asked the Times, “can you say whether the President will talk with Moscow or London or some of the other governments?”
“I’ll know more about that after he talks with State.”
“Has he talked with State?”
“By now perhaps he may have. Give me another hour or so and I may have something for you. All I can do now is assure you I’ll give you what I have as soon as the situation develops.”
“Mr. Press Secretary,” said the Chicago Tribune, “I suppose it has occurred to the administration that the addition to the world’s population of some two and a half million an hour—”
“You’re ahead of me there,” said Wilson. “My latest figure was something over a million an hour.”
“There are now,” said The Tribune, “about two hundred of the tunnels or openings or whatever you may call them. Even if there should be no more than that it means that within less than forty-eight hours more than a billion people will have emerged upon the Earth. My question is how is the world going to be able to feed that many additional people?”
“The administration,” Wilson told the Tribune, “is very acutely aware of the problem. Does that answer your question?”
“Partially, sir. But how does it propose to meet the problem?”
“That will be a matter for consultation,” said Wilson stiffly.
“You mean you won’t answer it?”
“I mean that at the moment I can’t answer it.”
“There is another similar question,” said the Los Angeles Times, “concerning the advanced science and technology that must exist in a world five hundred years ahead. Has there been any consideration given—”
“There has not,” said Wilson. “Not yet.”
The New York Times arose. “Mr. Wilson,” he said, “we seem now to be moving far afield. Perhaps later some similar questions will be possible to answer.”
“I would hope so, sir,” said Wilson.
He stood and watched the press corps file back into the lobby.
5. The army was having trouble.
Lieutenant Andrew Shelby phoned Major Marcel Burns. “Sir, I can’t keep these people together,” he reported. “They are being kidnaped.”
“What in hell are you talking about, Andy? Kidnaped?”
“Well, maybe not that, actually. But people are taking them in. One big house is full of them.
There must be twenty or more of them inside. I talked with the owner. Look here, I told him, I have to keep these people together. I can’t let them get scattered. I’ve got to load them up and take them where they have shelter and food. Lieutenant, said this man, you don’t have to worry about the people I have here. If food and shelter are your only worry you can stop worrying. They ate my house guests, sir, and they have food and shelter. And he was not the only one. That was only one house. Other houses, all up. and down the street, they have them, too. The whole neighborhood has them. Everyone is taking them in. That’s not the whole story, either. People are driving in from miles away to load them up and take them off to take care of them. They’re being scattered all over the countryside and I can’t do a thing about it.”
“Are they still coming out of that door or whatever it is?”
“Yes, sir, they are still coming out of it. They have never stopped. It’s like a big parade. They just keep marching out of it. I try to keep them together, sir, but they wander and they scatter and they are taken up by all the people in the neighborhood and I can’t keep track of them.”
“You’ve been transporting some of them?”
“Yes, sir. As fast as I can load them up.”
“What kind of people are they?”
“Just ordinary people, sir. Far as I can see. No different from us, except that they got a sort of funny accent. They dress funny. Some of them in robes. Some of them in buckskins. Some of them in—oh, hell, they have all kinds of clothes. Like they were at a masquerade. But they are polite and cooperative. They don’t give us trouble. It’s just that there are so many of them. More of them than I can haul away. They scatter, but that ain’t their fault. It’s the people who invite them home. They are friendly and real nice, but there are just too many of them.”
The major sighed. “Well, carry on. Do the best you can.”
6. The buttons on Judy’s telephone had never stopped their blinking. The lounge was jammed with waiting newsmen. Wilson got up from his desk and moved over to the row of clacking teletypes.
Global News was coming up with its fifth new lead.
Washington (GN)—Millions of visitors who say they are from 500 years in the future continued to come to the present world this afternoon, pouring in steady streams from more than 200 “time tunnels.”
There has been general public reluctance to accept their explanation that they are from the future, but it is now beginning to gain some acceptance in official quarters, not so much in Washington as in some capitals abroad. Beyond the assertion that they are from the future, however, the refugees will add little else in the way of information. It is confidently expected that in the next few hours more information may be forthcoming. So far, in the confusion of the situation, no one who can be termed a leader or a spokesman has emerged from the hordes of people pouring from the tunnels. But there are now some indications that such a spokesman may have been located and that soon his story will be told. The distribution of the tunnels is worldwide and they have been reported on every continent. An unofficial estimate places the number of people passing through them at close to two million an hour. At this rate . . .
“Steve,” said Judy, “Tom Manning is on the phone.”
Wilson went back to his desk.
“Have you got your court order yet?” Manning asked.
“Not yet. I gave you time.”
“Well, you can get it any time you want to. Our attorney says you can.”
“I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“Matter of fact, you won’t. Molly is already on her way. With Gale and his daughter. She’ll be there in twenty minutes, more or less, depending on the traffic. It is getting hairy out there. Sightseers pouring in and a slew of army trucks.”
“Tom,” said Wilson, “there is something I want to say. I know why you had to do it. You simply had to try.”
“Steve, there’s one thing more.”
“What is it, Tom?”
“Gale talked a little to Molly. Not much. There was one thing he asked her to pass along. Something he said couldn’t wait.”
“You’re passing it along?”
“He said to station an artillery piece in front of each of the time tunnels. High-explosive rounds. If anything happens, fire straight into the tunnel. Don’t pay any attention to the people who may be in it, just fire. If necessary, keep on firing.”
“Any idea of what could happen?”
“He wouldn’t say. Just that we would know. Said the explosion would knock out the tunnel, collapse it, put an end to it. You’ll take it from here?”
“
I’ll take it from here.”
“I’m not going to use it now,” said Manning. “Not right away.”
Wilson hung up, picked up the Presidential phone.
“Kim,” he asked, “when can I get in?”
“He’s on the phone now. Other calls are holding. There are people with him. How important is this, Steve?”
“Top important. I have to see the man.”
“Come on in. I’ll slip you in as soon as possible.”
“Judy,” said Wilson. “Molly Kimball is coming in the back way. She’ll have two of the refugees with her.”
“I’ll call the gate,” said Judy. “And security. When they get here?
“If I’m not back send them in to Kim.”
7. Sandburg, the secretary of defense, and Williams, the secretary of state, sat on a davenport in front of the President’s desk. Reilly Douglas, the attorney general, held down a chair at its corner. They nodded to Wilson when he came into the room.
“Steve,” said the President, “I know that what you have must be important.” The words were barely short of a rebuke.
“I think so, Mr. President,” said Wilson. “Molly Kimball is bringing in one of the refugees who says he is a spokesman for at least the Virginia group. I thought you might want to see him, sir.”
“Sit down, Steve,” said the President. “What do you know about this man? Is he really a spokesman? An accredited spokesman?”
“I don’t know,” said Wilson. “I would suppose he might have some credentials.”
“In any case,” said the secretary of state, “we should listen to what he has to say. God knows no one else has been able to tell us anything.”
Wilson took a chair next to the attorney general and settled into it.
“The man sent a message ahead,” he said. “He thought we should know as soon as possible. He suggested an artillery piece, firing high-explosive rounds, be placed in front of every door or time tunnel or whatever the people are coming out of.”
The Complete Serials Page 139
