“Thirty-six people died,” I said in awe. “And it only took thirty-seven seconds. Unbelievable.”
Maybe not so unbelievable. I remembered how quickly the flames spread in that slaughterhouse when Winn Farrow’s rocket exploded.
“It landed at 7:25p.m.?”asked Gunny. “I thought it was supposed to come in the morning?”
Patrick said, “Computer. Reason for delayed arrival.”
The computer said, “High winds. Storms. Hindenburgdelayed until storm subsided.”
“Spader will be happy to hear that,” Gunny said. “We’ve got twelve more hours to work with.”
Patrick turned to Gunny and asked, “What are you looking for?”
“We want to know what caused the crash,” Gunny said. He glanced at me. We thought we knew the answer to that, but it was as good a place to start as any.
Patrick hit the button and said, “Computer. Cause ofHindenburgcrash.”
The pleasant computer voice said, “Several theories. One: Zeppelin filled with flammable hydrogen gas. Possible cause of ignition, residual static electricity from earlier thunderstorm. Two: Shell of balloon covered with volatile aluminum powder. Potential ignition cause, same static electricity. Three: Lightning strike. Final theory: Sabotage.”
“Sabotage?” I asked.
Patrick said, “Computer. More on sabotage.”
The computer said, “Potential for explosive device having been placed on board by crew member. Never proven.”
“State most likely scenario,” Patrick ordered the computer.
The computer answered, “No likely scenario. Cause of disaster unproven.”
The still frame of the burned zeppelin then disappeared.
“It’s one of the great mysteries of all time,” Patrick said. “Why did theHindenburgburn? Even with all our technology, we don’t know for sure.”
Gunny and I glanced at each other. We knew.
“So this computer has information stored on all people?” I asked. “Not just famous presidents?”
“Every single bit of information that exists is at your disposal.”
I thought for a second, an idea slowly forming. “Can I try?” I asked.
Patrick stood up and gave me the chair. “Have fun,” he said.
I sat down in the chair, feeling like I had a whole bunch of power at my fingertips. I touched the button and said, “Computer. Rose, Maximilian.”
The computer answered, “Over eight hundred thousand entries. More specifics, please.”
Patrick chuckled. “The computer cross-references everything in its databases. Give it more to go on.”
Okay. I hit the button again and said, “Computer. Rose, Maximilian. United States. 1937. Manhattan Tower Hotel. Criminal.” Bingo. Who should appear on the platform in front of us but Max Rose. He was even wearing one of his familiar silk bathrobes.
“Friend of yours?” Patrick asked.
“Sort of,” I answered, then hit the button again. “Computer. Rose, Maximilian. May sixth, 1937.”
The computer said, “Maximilian Rose, killed in automobile accident on May sixth, 1937.”
Huh? I shot a look to Gunny. Gunny sat up straight. Things were getting interesting. I then said, “Computer. When and where?”
The computer answered, “Six fiftyp.m. Intersection of Toms River Road and Route five-twenty-seven, Lakehurst, New Jersey, USA.”
“He must have been on his way to meet theHindenburg,”Gunny said.
I hit the button again and said, “New Search.” The image of Max Rose disappeared.
“Computer. Farrow, Winn. New York. 1937. Criminal.”
Bang. There he was. Winn Farrow, right in front of us. I was beginning to think this computer was as good as Patrick said.
“Computer. Farrow, Winn. May sixth, 1937,” I said.
The computer answered, “Received speeding ticket from New Jersey State Police. Four twenty-fivep.m.”
“That’s it for May sixth?” I asked.
The computer answered, “He was driving twelve miles over the speed limit.”
“There’s gotta be more than that,” I said in frustration. “Let me try something.” I hit the button again and said, “Computer. Amaden, Esther. New York. 1937.”
The image of Winn Farrow disappeared. There was a second of silence. Nothing appeared on the platform.
The computer said, “No data.”
That was weird. I gave it more to go on. “Computer. Add nickname, Harlow. Manhattan Tower Hotel. Singer. Friend of Rose, Maximilian.”
A moment, and then, “No data.”
“Does this machine ever make mistakes?” asked Gunny.
Patrick answered, “Well, no. Someone named Esther Amaden never existed or the computer would have a record of her.”
“What if she changed her name?” Gunny asked.
“The computer would know that. Guaranteed. Who was she?”
Uh-oh. A bad thought hit me and I started getting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Computer,” I said weakly. “Van Dyke, Vincent. Nickname, Gunny. Manhattan Tower Hotel. New York. 1937.”
There was a pause, and then the computer answered, “No data.”
Now I started to sweat. Things were happening fast. “Computer. Tilton, Press. Stony Brook, Connecticut. Early twenty-first century. Uncle to Pendragon, Robert. Sister to Pendragon, Kathleen.”
A pause, and then, “No data.”
Patrick said, “We’re Travelers, Pendragon. There wouldn’t be any records.”
This was getting more horrifying by the second. I was learning something new about being a Traveler. As far as the world was concerned, we didn’t exist. That’s why my house on Second Earth was gone. That’s why my family disappeared.
“Computer! Pendragon, Robert. Nickname, Bobby. Stony Brook, Connecticut.” There was another pause, and then, “No data.”
“Don’t do this to yourself, Bobby,” Gunny said softly.
I was freaking out, but not for the reason Gunny thought. In some ways, I think I knew something like this had to be true. Yeah, it was horrifying to know we had no history. But as frightening as that was, it wasn’t what was making my brain explode.
I couldn’t sit down anymore. My heart raced. I jumped up, hit the button again and shouted, “Computer! Amaden, Esther. Nickname, Harlow. Girlfriend to Rose, Maximilian. New York. 1937.”
The computer paused for several seconds and then said calmly, “No data.”
“Uh-oh,” Gunny said. He now realized where I was going with this.
“Yeah, uh-oh,” I shot back. “Travelers don’t have records because Travelers don’t have histories. AllTravelers, not just the good ones.”
“Do you think-“
“Yeah, I do. Esther Amaden is Saint Dane. He’s been playing the game from both sides from the very beginning.”
THIRD EARTH
“He’s been playing with us,” I said. “He’s got Max Rose listening on one side, Winn Farrow listening on the other, and we’re the monkeys in the middle.”
“You mean to tell me that pretty lady singer is Saint Dane in disguise? That’s hard to believe,” Gunny said.
“But it’s true,” I shot back. “He can change himself into anyone. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”
I paced the library room, trying to rethink everything that had happened since I arrived on First Earth. It was a whole different ballgame now that I knew Saint Dane was pulling all the strings. What was he up to?
Patrick said, “Tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”
“We’ve been thinking the turning point on First Earth is theHindenburg,”I explained. “But Saint Dane’s plans have to be bigger than the crash of a single ship. World War Two is coming on fast and we thought that if we could prevent theHindenburgfrom going down, it might somehow stop the war from happening. But we can’t know for sure. The tough part is that since Saint Dane is playing both sides of the game, we don’t really know what he wants to happen. Does he
want theHindenburgto crash or not?”
Gunny added, “We know what happens after the ship goes down. What we don’t know is what will happen if that big airshipdoesn’tgo down.”
We all fell silent for a second. That was the problem, exactly. Would saving theHindenburgbe a good thing or a bad thing? There was no way to find that answer.
At least, that’s what we thought.
“Well, I could help you figure that out,” Patrick said casually, like it was no big deal.
“You can? How?” I asked in disbelief.
“I know it’s hard for you guys to understand,” he began. “But the capacity of our data systems is incredible. What we’ve been doing here with Abe Lincoln and theHindenburgdoesn’t even scratch the surface.”
“Yeah, it’s all pretty cool,” I said. “But you can’t predict the future.”
Patrick smiled and said, “Well, in a way, we can.”
Gunny and I looked at each other in surprise. Who was this guy kidding? No computer, I don’t care how great it is, can do that.
“Look at it this way,” Patrick said. “It’s like math. Two plus two equals four. But if you change a two to a three, it doesn’t equal four anymore. It equals five.”
“And that’s how you can predict the future?” I asked. I was losing faith in Patrick, fast.
“Stay with me,” he said. “Now imagine a really complex mathematical equation with thousands or even millions of numbers. Same thing. If you change even one number, the whole equation changes, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “But what’s that got to do with predicting the future?”
“Okay,” Patrick continued. “Think of all the events that ever happened in the past as numbers in an equation. If you changed even one of those events, it would change all the events that followed. The whole equation would have to be recalculated.”
“But numbers are real,” I said.
“So is the past,” Patrick countered. “As real as any number. I can’t predict what will happen tomorrow, but I can definitely predict how changes in the past would play out in the past.”
“That’s impossible!” I shouted. “That computer would have to know everything about everybody and everything they ever did to make that kind of prediction.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Patrick said with excitement. “That’s exactly the kind of data we’ve got. We can take events from the past and change one of the factors. The computer will cross-reference billions of other factors and calculate the likely new scenario, just like a math equation. It’s called variable technology.”
He was losing me. And if he was losing me, I knew Gunny was long gone.
“Okay, here’s an example of a simple one I did. 1969. Super Bowl Three. The New York Jets beat the Baltimore Colts, sixteen to seven. I brought up all the information I had about that game, the players, the weather conditions, the coaches, everything. I even knew what each of the players had for breakfast. Then I changed one thing. I input that Joe Namath, the Jets’ star quarterback, went down with an injury in the first quarter. The final score the computer predicted was very different from sixteen-seven Jets.”
“What happened?” I asked. “The Colts kicked butt, right?”
“Well, no,” Patrick said. “The Jets actually won the game twenty-four-zip. Weird, no?”
“Predicting a football game is one thing,” I said. “Figuring out the course of history is a slightly bigger deal.”
“Trust me, Pendragon,” Patrick said. “Think of all the things you’ve seen on Third Earth. If I told you about all this three thousand years ago, would you believe it could happen?”
“Well, yeah, maybe,” I said.
“Then believe this too,” he said with total confidence. “A big event like the crash of theHindenburgis bound to change things. I can’t guarantee that I can predict exactly what will happen if it doesn’t crash, but I know I can come up with the big picture.”
I looked to Gunny. He was a guy who couldn’t even imagine Nintendo, let alone the kinds of things Patrick was talking about. Still, I needed another opinion.
“What do you think?” I asked.
Gunny gave a very wise answer. “As far as I’m concerned, most everything here is impossible. Yet here it is, real as can be. I’m inclined to give Patrick the benefit of the doubt. If he says he can do this, who are we to say he can’t?”
That was a pretty good argument. Besides, if Patrick really could do this, we’d have the answers we so desperately needed.
“Okay,” I said. “Give it a shot.”
Patrick let out a big smile. He was psyched for the challenge. He ran to a cabinet where he pulled out two pads of blue paper and two pens. “I need you two to write down everything you can think of that has to do with the situation. Names, dates, events, locations… I meaneverything. No bit of information is too small.”
“I thought the computer does that?” I asked.
“We need to give it as many cross-references as possible,” Patrick answered. “The more guidance we give it, the more accurate the result will be.”
I looked at the pen he handed me, and chuckled, “You guys still use pens and paper?”
“Not usually,” answered Patrick. “But it would take too long to show you how to interface with the computer.”
Good point. For the next half hour, we wrote down everything we could think of about the mystery. I made sure to get everything down that I knew about Max Rose and Winn Farrow. They were the key figures here. It was because of their relationship that theHindenburgwas in danger. When we finished, we each presented Patrick with many pages of data.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Go outside and relax. It’ll take me a while to input all this and start the process. I’ll find you as soon as I come up with something.”
That was that. Gunny and I left Patrick alone to do his thing. We walked back out to the lobby, where I was hit with the smell of food. I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but I was starving. I really hoped there was a cafeteria around and this wasn’t some virtual smell coming from somebody using the computer to look up “pizza.”
We found a small counter selling simple foods like cookies and drinks. It didn’t matter to me. They could have been selling brussel sprouts and I would have bought a bundle. That’s how starved I was. Gunny was too. We each picked out a handful of cookies and some juice.
“Uh-oh,” Gunny said. “All I’ve got is First Earth money.”
I shrugged and said, “Give it a shot.”
Gunny handed the counter guy a First Earth twenty-dollar bill. He looked at it strangely and said, “I’m not really sure what that is, but you don’t have to pay for food when you’re using the library.”
Wow. Free food. That surprised me almost as much as seeing the underground city. Life here on Third Earth was pretty sweet.
Gunny and I took our food outside to the front steps of the library and sat down to eat. We didn’t say much at first. We were too busy enjoying the taste of fifty-first century chocolate chip cookies. They tasted the same as the twenty-first century variety. Luckily time hadn’t changed everything.
While we ate, I had a chance to think. I wrote before that I had a nervous feeling, but didn’t know why. It wasn’t until now, as we sat on the steps of the library, that the reason became clear. It had been staring me in the face since we arrived on Third Earth, but I couldn’t bring it into focus. Now, as we sat there on that beautiful warm day, I finally got my mind around it. It was totally obvious, too. Maybe that’s why I didn’t get it at first. It was too simple. But the more I reasoned it through, the more sense it made.
And I didn’t like it. My appetite was suddenly gone. I put the last cookie down uneaten.
“What’s the trouble, shorty?” Gunny asked.
“It doesn’t matter what Patrick comes up with,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Gunny replied. “I think it matters a whole lot.”
“But
it doesn’t. I already know what we have to do.”
“Really?”
“You know it too, Gunny,” I said. “I think we’re both hoping that Patrick comes up with something that tells us we’re wrong, but he won’t.”
Gunny stopped eating his cookie and looked out over the scene in front of us. What had once been a busy, congested city was now beautiful countryside. We could see a few modern housing units scattered around, but mostly it was clean, green country full of people enjoying a beautiful, sunny day. In the distance I could see the unpolluted East River. The air smelled fresh. There was no violence. It was perfect. From what Patrick told us, the rest of Third Earth was the same way.
Perfect.
I looked into Gunny’s eyes. He was troubled. We were on the same page.
“Doesn’t look like a territory that Saint Dane pushed into chaos, does it?” Gunny said.
Exactly. The wreck of theHindenburgwas a horrible disaster and classic Saint Dane. We even hoped that by saving it, we might be able to stop World War II. But the truth was, Earth had evolved into a truly wonderful place in spite of the fact that theHindenburgblew up.
“We won’t make things better by changing history, will we?” Gunny said.
“No.”
Reality was closing in fast. Our mission was about to be turned upside down. If we wanted Earth to evolve into the wonderful territory we were now looking at, we had to make sure history played out the way it was supposed to.
That meant only one thing. Winn Farrow had to succeed. TheHindenburghad to go down.
“Saint Danewantsus to change history,” I said with finality. “That’s what this has been about. That’s the turning point. If we change history, this is a world that may never be.”
Suddenly the whole challenge seemed too huge. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I snapped.
“I hate this!” I screamed, jumping up.
“What’s the trouble?” Gunny asked with sympathy.
“The trouble is I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s not fair. Why are we the ones responsible for saving the territories?”
The Never War tpa-3 Page 18
