The Green Futures of Tycho

by William Sleator

  But far more terrible was what he had done to Leonardo, just to protect himself. How had he turned out that way?

  He did not sleep at all that night. His trips to the future twisted back and forth in his head through the long hours, hopelessly bewildering. He knew that both visits had been to the same day. Calendars on both trips had told him that. How was it possible, then, that there had been so many impossible differences?

  The question plagued him all night. It plagued him all day in school, when he wasn’t falling asleep in class. It plagued him after school, compelling him to scribble lists of what he had seen both times. He went over the lists again and again. He studied them compulsively. It was the only way he could think of to try to find a plausible explanation.

  Still, he should have known better than to put anything down in writing.

  12

  IT WAS AT SUPPER THAT THE EXPLANATION BEGAN to come.

  He ate mechanically. He looked up when people spoke to him and responded appropriately. But all the time he was going over the lists in his head.

  “You seem depressed, Tycho, my baby,” Judy said.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine. Just a little tired. I had trouble sleeping last night.”

  “You never had any trouble sleeping before,” said Ludwig. He shook his head in a puzzled way and ran his hand through his flaming red crew cut. “Maybe you’re not just lying there trying to sleep. Maybe you’re sneaking around, doing things you’re not supposed to do.”

  “Ludwig, leave baby alone!” Judy said sharply. She always defended Tycho, her favorite child.

  Tycho glanced at Leonardo. Leo was ready. “I think Ludwig’s just mad because Tycho’s getting too big for him to pick on,” said Leonardo in his most analytical voice. “I know how it feels. I was mad when he got taller than me, too.”

  “Who asked for your opinion?” Ludwig said furiously. “Just keep your fat face shut, creep!”

  “Ludwig! Apologize at once or leave the table,” Bobby said.

  “I’ll leave,” said Ludwig, his eyes on Tycho as he pushed back his chair and stood up. He went noisily up the stairs and slammed the door of his room.

  Tycho didn’t know whether or not to be grateful to Leonardo. Leo had stood up for him, but only because of the way Tycho. had manipulated him, using the egg to trick him. He thought of the poor grotesque creature that Leonardo was going to become, and his own inhuman treatment of him. Was the little arrangement they had made yesterday perhaps the seed of that terrible future?

  “How was class today, Tamara?” Bobby asked, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

  “Uh … fine,” Tamara said softly, looking down at her plate.

  “Did anything interesting or unusual happen?”

  “Uh … well, Madame did say some things about a dancer’s career.”

  “Yes? Go on,” Bobby coaxed her fondly. Tamara was so shy that she hardly ever said more than a few words at a time, even in front of her own family. She never talked about herself.

  “Well,” said Tamara, playing with her food and blushing slightly. “She said it’s more than just being good. You have to be good, of course, but you also have to be lucky. You have to be at the right place at the right time … uh, because of the importance of chance … .”

  It was rare to hear Tamara say so much. Tycho stopped mulling over his own thoughts and began to listen.

  “Chance? That’s interesting. Go on, dear,” Judy prodded her.

  “Well … Then Madame talked about Tamara Karsavina. Everybody looked at me.” She glanced up for a moment with a slight smile, blushing more deeply. “She said she was a great dancer, but chance was what made her really famous. Pavlova was Diaghilev’s leading ballerina in Paris. But then Pavlova walked out, and Karsavina was there, so he took her and she became an international star. But if Pavlova hadn’t quit like that, or Karsavina hadn’t joined the company when she did … then who knows what would have happened?” She shrugged. “Chance, Madame says. You can’t forget about chance. Everybody got kind of bored, though.”

  “That’s very interesting, dear. What about you, Leonardo? Anything new today?”

  “Skin tones,” Leonardo said. “I think I’m finally beginning to learn how to …”

  Tycho stopped listening. Perhaps what Tamara had just said was the beginning of an explanation. Chance! He had never thought about it very much before. Now, one idea after another came flooding in. What if someone happened to leave a book on a library table, and you stumbled across it, and found out about a whole field of interest you had never heard of before. It could make a tremendous difference in your career. Or what if you stayed five minutes later at a party, and someone new came in, and you hit it off right away? You might end up spending the rest of your life with that person. But if you didn’t find the book, or didn’t stay late at the party, then the rest of your life might be completely different.

  Your life might be made up of little unimportant events, fluttering by like pollen in the wind that could just as easily land in one place as in another. Or it might be a series of paths that branched off at frequent intervals, like the limbs of a tree. At each fork you might happen to go one way or the other. A very small decision at the beginning could lead you to a very different place at the end.

  “Ludwig’s awfully quiet up there,” Judy said. “After supper he always listens to records or practices his solfeggio. But I don’t hear a thing.”

  “He’s probably just sulking,” suggested Leonardo. “He’s been strange lately. Anyway, what I was saying was, the kind of tone you use depends on the quality of the slight … .”

  The future, after all, was not already determined, like the past. It was still liquid and flowing, becoming solid only as each instant happened. Of course, character and personalty had something to do with how things turned out. But so did chance, the unpredictable element. Because of chance, there were endless possibilities. Which meant that each person had many different possible futures.

  “Oh!” Tycho cried out, and stood up so abruptly that he knocked over his chair.

  “Tycho! What’s the matter, baby? You look like you’ve been stung by a wasp!” said Judy.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Tycho, picking up his chair. “I just had an important idea. I have to write it down. May I be excused?”

  “Well, if it’s that important, how can we stop you?” said Bobby. “Go ahead, Tycho.”

  It was more than important. He was too excited to sit still. At first, the discrepancies he had seen on his two trips to the future had been bewildering and frightening. Now they were marvelous, they were his salvation. They had demonstrated that he had more than one future. He had stumbled unluckily upon two terrible ones. But now he knew that he was not trapped in them. Once again he had hope. There were many other futures for him, and some of them had to be good. All he had to do was find one he liked, and then figure out how to make it happen. The relief was euphoric.

  Until he reached his room. Ludwig was sitting at his desk, poring over the lists he had made.

  “Ludwig!” he said. “Get out of there!” Automatically, he stuck his hand in his pocket to check on the egg.

  The egg was not there.

  His stomach contracted with fear. Where was it? Had he left it on his desk? Had Ludwig found it? With panic ringing through him, he grabbed for the paper in Ludwig’s hand.

  But his pause to check on the egg had given Ludwig time to jump out of the chair and whip the paper behind his back. “What’s the matter, Tycho? Something I’m not supposed to see? Or am I just imagining this piece of paper?”

  “Come on, Ludwig. Give it back!” said Tycho, reaching for it again.

  But Ludwig, who was taller than Tycho, held it up out of his reach, fending him off with his other hand. “Too late, Tycho. I’ve already read it. Give up.”

  Tycho stepped back and slumped down on the bed. “You’ve already read it?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Ludwig, nodding smugly.

  Wher
e was the egg? What a fool he had been to leave it lying around. But maybe Ludwig hadn’t found it. He must find it himself, and tuck it safely away before Ludwig saw it. Meanwhile, Ludwig had the paper, and he had to deal with that. He would have to lie his way out of it. He felt sweat on his forehead. “Oh,” Tycho said, thinking fast. “You already read it. Oh, well, I guess it doesn’t matter. They were just some notes I was making. Notes for a … for a story, for English.”

  “A story for English, Tycho? Is that so?” Ludwig enquired pleasantly.

  “Yes, yes, that’s what it is,” Tycho said, eagerly nodding his head. But where was the egg? He usually put it under his pillow when he went to sleep. Maybe he had left it there. Still sitting on the bed, he began casually working his hand toward the pillow, which lay on top of the bedspread.

  “Sorry, Tycho.” Ludwig’s voice went cold. “I’m afraid that little lie won’t work.” He held the paper up and read from it. “‘Second visit to April 23, 2001. Tamara a pitiful failure. Never had dancing career. Quit teaching to take care of Bobby and Judy. They are invalids. Leonardo a grotesque pig. Weighs 659 pounds. A failure as an artist. Imprisoned in satellite.’” Ludwig brought the paper down again and looked steadily at Tycho. “Nasty little story, isn’t it? I wonder what Bobby and Judy would think of it?”

  “But why would you show it to them, Ludwig?” Tycho asked. His hand could not reach to the pillow. As casually as possible, he slid over on the bed and slipped his hand underneath, gesturing with his other hand to distract Ludwig. “What are you driving at? Can’t you please just leave me alone?”

  “Not until I find out what’s really going on.”

  “But I told you, it’s just notes,” Tycho insisted. There was nothing under the pillow. What had happened to it? What if Ludwig had already found it? He felt frantic and hopeless. “It’s just something I made up, Ludwig. It doesn’t mean—”

  “Cut it out, Tycho,” Ludwig said harshly. “I’m not blind. I’m not deaf. You can’t fool me, like the others. I saw you disappear on Saturday morning. I saw you show up out of nowhere in those bushes on Sunday morning. I hear you sneaking around at funny times. And now this!” He shook the paper at him. “A visit to the future. Descriptions of what you saw there. You found something the other day, I know you did. I don’t know exactly what it is. I just know it’s something fantastic. Something like … a time travel device, maybe.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Ludwig,” Tycho said haltingly. “That’s impossible. I’m surprised at you.”

  “Then tell me what it is. Prove it’s something else. Or I’m taking this paper downstairs and showing it to Bobby and Judy.”

  That was a scene Tycho didn’t like to think about. They wouldn’t believe that he had really visited the future, of course. But they would be incensed by what he had said about the family. The future was so important to them. It would be weeks before they forgave him for describing Leonardo and Tamara as failures. And Ludwig would continue to be suspicious.

  “I want to be included, Tycho. You found something fantastic, and you’re keeping it all to yourself. Count me in—right now—or I’m taking this paper downstairs.”

  Then Tycho saw the egg. It must have rolled off the desk, for it was lying on the floor about a foot from where Ludwig was standing. Panic chewed at his stomach. How could he get it without Ludwig noticing? Briefly, he considered telling Ludwig everything, to get him off his back. But of course it wouldn’t get Ludwig off his back. He would just get the egg away from him.

  And what on earth would Ludwig do with it? Even if he could trust him with it, the idea of sharing it with anyone was repugnant, sickening. He could not share it. Anything would be better than that, even the exposure of his list. The most important thing was to get Ludwig out of there, fast, before he saw the egg. Tycho’s eyes wandered toward it, then back to Ludwig again.

  “Well, Tycho,” Ludwig said. “Tell me what you found. Show it to me. Or I’ll take this downstairs. Your time is up.”

  “I didn’t find anything, Ludwig,” Tycho said, forcing himself not to look at the egg. “What can I say? Go ahead and take that story downstairs if you want to. I can’t stop you. Go on. Take it.”

  Ludwig peered at him curiously. “Why so eager, Tycho? Do you want to get rid of me?”

  “No, no, I just …” He couldn’t help it. His eyes darted toward the egg again.

  Ludwig was watching him. He saw his eyes move. He followed them. “Hey!” he said, looking down. “What’s that?” He bent over to pick it up.

  But Tycho was nearer the ground, and faster. He squatted down and grabbed it and bounced back onto the bed, the egg squeezed in his fist. Then Ludwig was on top of him. They were both panting heavily, but aside from that their scuffle was curiously quiet. Ludwig had large, strong hands. He began prying Tycho’s fingers open. Tycho struggled, but Ludwig’s hands were stronger. The dials came into view. Ludwig had his hand on it now, he was pushing Tycho away.

  All Tycho had to do was get control of the dials for a few seconds. Then he could get out of there and try to save himself from this awful mess. Grunting heavily, he kicked Ludwig in the shin with all his strength. He was wearing heavy boots. Ludwig cried out and bent over in pain. Quickly, quickly Tycho spun the dials, checked his watch, and without even worrying about Ludwig’s reaction, traveled forty-five minutes into the past.

  They were all downstairs, eating supper. Tycho groaned and collapsed onto the bed. The relief of having the egg again was a caressing, delicious sensation. But even though he knew that he had all the time in the world now, a part of him was still frantic. He had to correct the situation, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

  But how? Ludwig had seen the egg. Was it possible to undo that? Tycho brooded for several minutes, feeling hunted. Then an idea came to him. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried it. There were a lot of risks involved. He himself would have to be a convincing actor. It would be the most flagrant manipulation of time he had yet attempted. But he had already realized that anything would be better than sharing the egg with Ludwig. And he could not come up with any better plan.

  The egg was in his hand, but there was, of course, another one lying on the floor—the one Ludwig was going to find in forty-five minutes. He kicked that one across the floor into his open closet, then closed the closet door. Ludwig would never find it now. He picked up the list from the desk, ripped it carefully to pieces, and buried it in the wastebasket. He tore another piece of paper from the pad, thought for a moment, and then wrote a few sentences on it. He took a couple of minutes just to breathe deeply and relax and prepare himself. Then, more carefully than ever, he set the dials. Still holding the egg, he put it in his pocket, pressed down on the green end, and returned exactly one second after he had left.

  Ludwig was still in the act of backing away from the bed. When he looked at Tycho, there was confusion in his eyes. “Tycho! You just … How … Why did you have to kick me so hard?”

  Tycho felt rather confused himself, but he did have a story to cling to. “I couldn’t help it, Ludwig,” he gasped.

  “I was just so shocked when you suddenly attacked me like that.”

  “But I wanted to get … You had that …” Ludwig frowned and shook his head.

  “You wanted to get what, Ludwig?” Tycho asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You just attacked me, for no reason.”

  “But you had something … or maybe you didn’t …”

  Tycho spread his empty hands. “I never had anything, Ludwig.”

  “No, you didn’t, did you?” Ludwig mumbled dazedly. “Wonder why I’m so confused …” He shook his head again, as if to clear it. Then he saw the piece of paper, which had fluttered to the floor during their scuffle. “Oh, that’s right,” he said, scooping it up. “I was just going to take this downstairs. And I will, unless you tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  “Well, you are right about my visions,” said Tycho. He shrugged
. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

  “Who said anything about visions?” said Ludwig, his old self again. “I’m showing this to Bobby and Judy.”

  “But Ludwig,” Tycho said earnestly, “maybe you better read it again before you take it down.”

  Ludwig held the paper up. “‘Last night’s vision,’” he began. For a moment he closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead. He gave Tycho a sidelong glance. Then he went on. “‘Last night’s vision: At supper, Ludwig accused me of sneaking around. When Leonardo defended me, Ludwig called him a creep, and Bobby told him to leave the table. Ludwig came upstairs and found a piece of paper on my desk. When I came upstairs, he threatened to show the paper to Bobby and Judy.’” Ludwig’s face lit up, and he took a step back. “That’s exactly what happened, Tycho!” he said, his voice rising. “It is true, then. You found something that shows you what’s going to happen!”

  “I keep telling you, Ludwig. It’s not a thing,” Tycho said, trying to make his voice tremulous and frightened. “It’s dreams. I’ve been having these dreams, or visions, and they … it seems like they really happen. Oh, if only you hadn’t seen the rest of that paper, Ludwig. Please, just forget what it says. For your own good.”

  But he was already reading. “‘But before Ludwig goes downstairs, he grows confused. He thinks he saw things that never happened. He forgets things that did happen. It is not the first symptom, but it is the strongest one so far, of the incurable neurological disease that … that is slowly taking over his … his mind.’” Slowly, Ludwig lifted his eyes from the paper and looked at Tycho.

  “Oh, Ludwig, if only you hadn’t read that,” Tycho said sadly.