by Gunn, James
“What’s the good of that?” a man asked gruffly.
“We don’t know, do we, Fred?” Frances said. “But I have a memory that it’s going to matter. Oh, dear! That doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“Frances, you’re always finding a moral somewhere,” a woman said.
“‘Everything’s got a moral, if you can only find it,’” Frances quoted triumphantly.
Shortly after that the meeting ended, with the crew informed but not relieved. For the moment, at least, they were not rebellious. Adrian had an uneasy feeling, however, that something about the meeting wasn’t right: the room was more crowded than it had ever been before.
But he promptly forgot.
Adrian was alone in the control room when the deputation arrived. Three were men; two were women. All of them were young and all about the same age, late teens, maybe, or early twenties. In their youth and energy, they all looked a lot alike. One of the men and one of the women was blond; two of the men were dark-haired and one of them was dark-skinned; the second woman had dark hair. Adrian had never seen them before.
The dark-haired woman reminded Adrian of Jessica. One of the men looked familiar, too, but Adrian couldn’t quite decide whom he looked like.
“We’re here to present our demands,” that young man said. His voice sounded familiar, too.
Adrian tried to keep from flinching. “Who are you?” he asked.
“You know who we are,” the blond girl said.
Adrian shook his head. “You’re all strangers. And the strangest part is that we’re in a wormhole inside a ship that nobody can leave or enter.”
“We’re the next generation,” the woman said.
Adrian was seated in the captain’s chair. The five newcomers formed a semi-circle around him, lithe, athletic, and leaning slightly forward as if they were poised to take him apart. “We’ve been here that long?” Adrian asked.
“Duration is a word that has no meaning,” the first young man said.
“It’s hard to break old habits,” Adrian said.
“We don’t have any to break,” the other dark-haired young man said. He sounded bitter.
“We agreed to keep this civil,” the first young man said. He looked back toward Adrian. “We’re here to present our demands.”
“You’ve got to let me get used to the idea that the crew has had children who have grown up while we have been stranded in a wormhole that was supposed to provide instantaneous passage. I don’t feel twenty years older.”
“That’s old-fashioned thinking!” the other blond young man said contemptuously.
“He can’t help it,” said the young man who appeared to be the spokesman for the group, if not, indeed, its leader. “He’s system-bound.”
“He’s got to help it,” the blond young man said. “He’s the captain.”
“How many of you are there?” Adrian asked.
“Many,” the blond young woman said.
“Enumeration is as difficult as duration,” said the spokesman.
“Are you all the same age?” Adrian asked.
“You see?” the young man asked. “He’ll never learn.”
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no,” the spokesman said patiently. “None of these questions you’re asking has any meaning unless we get into normal space. And that’s what we’ve come about.”
“To present our demands,” the blond young woman said.
Adrian folded his hands across his lap. “I don’t know what you can ask for that we can provide, but go ahead.”
“We want you to stop trying to get out of the wormhole,” the spokesman said.
“We can’t do that!” Adrian said.
“Why not?” the young man said.
“We’re in never-never land,” Adrian said. “Nowhere. No memory. No continuity. Virtual non-existence. And then, you see, we committed ourselves to finding out why the aliens sent us the plans for this ship and brought us here.” He gestured at the book lying in front of him; it was Gift from the Stars. Often he found himself reading it as if he could find therein a way out.
“We didn’t,” the bitter young man said.
“Didn’t what?” Adrian asked.
“Sign up for this trip.”
“But—” Adrian began.
“You’ve got no right,” the spokesman said, “to take us somewhere against our will.”
“And against our right to exist,” the dark-haired young woman said.
“What’s that?” Adrian asked.
“What do you think will happen to us if you get out of this wormhole?” the spokesman asked.
Adrian was silent.
“We won’t exist.”
“What kind of existence is that?” Adrian asked finally. “What is life without memory? What is existence without cause and effect?”
“The only kind we know,” the bitter young man said.
“We are your children,” the spokesman said. “You brought us into this world, crazy as it seems to you. But it’s our world, and you owe us.”
“He also owes the rest of us,” a woman said from the door. It was Frances. “And the species. If you’re more than illusions, you’ll be born at the right time in the right place. But now—be gone. You’re nothing but a pack of possibilities.”
The five turned toward her, frightened and uncertain, and disappeared like snowflakes evaporating before they hit the ground, leaving their potentials etched into the air.
Adrian rubbed his forehead. “They were so—real. So like the children the crew might have had—might have. Our language wasn’t meant for in here.”
“One of them looked like Jessica,” Frances said.
“And another one—” Adrian began and stopped.
“What?”
Adrian looked into one of the darkened vision screens. There were no mirrors in the control room, but he could see his reflection. He knew who the spokesman for the group looked like.
He looked like Adrian.
A familiar figure with a familiar walk and a familiar look to the back of his head turned at the far end of the corridor and, before Adrian could speak, disappeared down the side corridor that led toward the mess hall. It was a man. Adrian was sure of that. “Hey!” he called out, but by the time he reached the corridor it was empty. Only Frances was in the mess hall, cleaning the table that doubled for conferences, and she looked puzzled when he asked if anyone had just come in or passed.
But when Adrian returned to the corridor leading back toward the control room, he saw the same figure in front of him. He ran toward it, but it got farther away the faster he ran. By the time he got to the control room, it was empty. He went back down the corridor, trying to figure out what it meant. When he turned to look behind, he saw the back of the figure again, still moving away. This time Adrian turned and went the other direction, and came face to face with the man just outside the mess hall.
“Adrian!” they each said. Then, “I don’t believe it!”
“We’d better speak one at a time,” Adrian said.
“I agree,” Adrian said.
“We’ve got to decide, first, who’s the real Adrian and who is the doppelganger,” Adrian said.
“I’m real,” they said together.
“Look,” Adrian said, “this isn’t getting us anywhere. I’ll tell you what. As Frances would say, “‘if you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you.’”
“That sounds reasonable,” Adrian said. “Maybe this is the opportunity we’ve been looking for—to find a way out of this place. Let’s go in here and talk about it.”
Adrian nodded. “We can put our heads together.”
And Adrian added, “Two heads are better than one.”
When they entered the tiny mess hall, Frances was gone. Adrian didn’t think enough time had passed for Frances to have completed her clean up and departed. He didn’t know whether that meant he was in his doppelganger’s reality or whether it was another example of the wormhole’s vagaries.
“Obviously,” Adrian said, leaning back against one of the microwaves, not wanting to put himself in a mirror-image position. “But what isn’t obvious is what we’re going to do about the fact that we only remember what happens later.”
“That’s true,” Adrian said. “So the secret is to prepare later for what we need to know earlier.”
Adrian nodded. “I’ve thought of that. At least I think I’ve thought of that. The difficult part is remembering that we have to store information for earlier use.”
“We have to come to that realization independently, every time. We have to learn to think differently, just as we have to learn to think differently about Jessica and Frances.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian asked.
“It’s clear to me, and it should be clear to you, that both Jessica and Frances are fond of us.”
“And I’m fond of them,” Adrian said.
“One is, or maybe both are, going to want that relationship to get even closer.”
Adrian nodded. “That’s an uncomfortable thought, but if it happens I will have to handle it.”
“When we ‘handle it,’ as you say, we will have to think in unaccustomed ways.”
“I know,” Adrian said.
“I don’t mean just the business of allowing emotional involvement, even intimacy, but the possibility of sharing, or being shared.”
Adrian took a deep breath. “I understand you. What am I saying? I am you.”
“In the same way,” Adrian said, “we are going to have to think about our physical predicament in unconventional ways. Logic doesn’t work.”
“We’ll have to try illogic,” Adrian said. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already tried it. I caught up with you by going the other way.”
“I was the one who caught up with you,” Adrian said and then waved his hand. “No matter. We’ll have to think impossible things.”
“As Frances would say, ‘I can’t believe impossible things.’”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” Adrian continued. “When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
Adrian moved from in front of the microwaves. “I’m glad we had this meeting, even though it was a bit of a shock.” He didn’t offer to shake hands with the other Adrian. That would have been too much. “But I hope it doesn’t happen again.”
He went through the doorway into the corridor. This time he didn’t look back.
They all knew it was time to act. Jessica looked at Adrian, Adrian looked at Frances, Frances looked at Jessica. They had been in the wormhole too long. None of them knew how long it had been: days, weeks, maybe even years. But they knew that if they didn’t do something soon they would never get out.
Jessica looked at the gyrating readouts on the control panel. “We have to know what is going on outside,” she said.
“None of our instruments work,” Adrian said. “Or if they work, they aren’t recording.”
“We could turn on the vision screens,” Frances said.
Jessica turned them on. The glare was blinding. “I think we’ve tried that before,” she said. She turned them off.
“That’s the cosmic microwave background boosted into visible light,” Adrian said.
“I think the vision screens are as unreliable as the readouts,” Jessica said. “We try to cut back on the light, and the screens go black. Somebody has to go outside and report.”
Adrian nodded. “I agree. And I’m the only one who is capable of making sense of what is happening. I’ll get ready.”
“You can’t be spared,” Frances said. Her face had that “there’s-no-use-arguing-with-me” look.
“Frances is right,” Jessica said. “I’m the most experienced in working on the outside, the youngest, the most athletic, the steadiest—”
“You can’t be spared either,” Frances said. “You’re young, all right, and you have a life ahead of you if we ever get to a place where you can live it. That leaves me.”
“There’s radiation out there,” Adrian said. “God knows what. Even if it isn’t fatal, whoever goes out there is going to take a lot of damage.”
“Besides,” Jessica said, “you get sick just turning your head quickly.”
“I can do this,” Frances said. “I can do whatever I have to do. And you’ve got a young body and young ova—all that needs to be preserved if we’re going to have a future.” She stood in front of them both, in the control room, square and ready.
“I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?” Jessica asked.
Frances shook her head. “In a movie you’d hit me on the head and take my place, but this isn’t a movie and it isn’t going to happen.”
“I’m glad you know the difference,” Adrian said. “No heroism.”
“Just common sense,” Frances said. “Now I need some help in getting into a suit.” She smiled at her admission of inadequacy.
Spacesuits had not been built for someone as short and wide as Frances, but a man’s suit had been adapted by removing sections of the leg and welding the remaining pieces together. That didn’t help Francis’ agility, but then she hadn’t used the suit much. Now she struggled into it, and Jessica checked all the closures twice.
“Don’t stay out there more than a minute or two,” Jessica said, “and don’t try to do more than a simple survey. Be sure to snap yourself to the interior hook and make certain your magnet is firmly attached to the outer hull before you—”
“Hush,” Frances said. “You’re only making me nervous.”
She turned and hit the large button beside the inner hatch. It cycled open as Frances turned, patted Jessica’s shoulder with her glove, and touched Adrian’s hand. She adjusted her helmet and stepped over the sill into the airlock.
Jessica spoke into her handheld microphone. “Can you hear me? Be sure you keep your mike open all the time. I’m going to suit up so that I can come out and get you if you’re in trouble.”
Frances shook her head inside the helmet as she pushed the inner button and the door began to close. “We don’t want to lose two of us,” she said. “Don’t worry. If I don’t get back, it’s been a great run.” But her face looked pale before the door completely closed. “I’m opening the outer hatch. God, it’s bright out here!”
Jessica looked at Adrian, and Adrian looked back, but their thoughts were outside. “What’s going on?” Adrian asked.
“I’m darkening my face plate. There, that’s better.”
“What can you see?” Jessica asked.
“Wait a minute. I feel a little sick. There’s nothing to look at.”
“Frances!” Jessica said. “Look at the airlock. Look down at your feet. Then look at the ship. Orient yourself to the ship!”
“Got it!” Frances said. “The ship seems to be moving. I can see some kind of disturbance in the glare that might be exhaust, so the engine is still operating, but we knew that, since we’ve had gravity.”
“Which way are we going?” Adrian asked.
“Hard to say,” Frances said. “There seems to be a dark place in the glare.”
“Which direction?” Adrian asked.
“Toward the rear of the ship,” Frances said triumphantly. “Where the antimatter stuff comes out.”
“That must be the mouth of the wormhole where we entered,” Adrian said.
“That’s enough,” Jessica said. “Come in.”
“Not yet,” Frances said. “I’m looking around while I’m here.” “Don’t look around!” Jessica said.
“Funny stuff out here,” Frances said. “A weird-looking contraption just went by. All twisted pipes and girders. Speaking of ships that pass in the night!”
“You’re not doing us any good out there,” Adrian said.
“There’s another ship, or v
ehicle, or something,” Frances said. “Only it’s like a stack of waffles with a flagpole through the middle.”
“Frances!” Jessica said. “You’re making us nervous.”
“Goodness knows, you’ve made me nervous often enough,” Frances said. “There’s an alien, I think. A creature of some sort with tentacles. And one shaped like a cone with eyes. And another, and another!”
“You’re losing touch!” Adrian said. “Come back! Now!”
“There’s the Mad Hatter!” Frances shouted. “And Humpty Dumpty. And the caterpillar smoking the water pipe. And the Queen!”
“Come back!” Jessica said softly. “Come back, Frances!”
“Off with their heads!” Frances said.
Adrian looked at Jessica. She turned and began climbing into her spacesuit.
“Remember,” Frances said. “You have to run twice as fast as that!”
Something clanged from outside the ship, like a magnet being freed and metal-shod feet pushing against the hull.
Jessica stopped halfway into her suit. “I knew I should have gone,” she said.
Adrian shook his head. “There’s no way we can go faster,” he said. “But maybe we can make Frances’ sacrifice meaningful.” He didn’t know how that was going to happen, but, as unshed tears burned his eyes, he knew he would make it happen.
Jessica slapped the vision screens back on and let the glare fill the control room. “We’ve got to do something. Frances has—is going to—oh, I don’t know what the right tense is. But she has given us all the information we’re likely to get, and she’s dead—surely she’s dead.”
“There’s not much doubt about that,” Adrian said. “We’re remembering things that have yet to happen, including things that might happen, and we’ve got all the memories of what has yet to happen that we’re likely ever to get.”
“Even though we’ve just entered the wormhole,” Jessica said.
Adrian nodded. “That’s the funny way time works in here. Now we know but later on we’ll forget. So we’ve got to do it now.”
“Frances said we had to run twice as fast,” Jessica said.
