Button in the Fabric of Time

by Dicksion, William Wayne

  The man in black responded, “You say everything he had on him was of primitive origin, yet he got here using technology unknown to us.”

  “We have examined the travel device,” the man in white replied, “and it shows evidence of his trying unsuccessfully to open it. If he knew what it was, and how it worked, why then was he trying to open it, and why was he unsuccessful?”

  All eyes turned to the man in the black. “I have nothing more,” he said.

  Roc-2 asked, “Is there anyone else who has anything to say?”

  Jan-3 said, “His knowledge of the history of the twentieth and early twenty-first century proves that he is a citizen of that time. I think he is who he says he is, and I recommend that we accept him as one of us and use his knowledge to help us.”

  “I, too, spent time with Gus,” Roc-2 added, “and I think he’s telling the truth. I agree with Jan-3; we should accept him.”

  The others nodded.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11

  “Gus, you’ve been accepted,” Roc-2 announced. “Now enjoy your time with Jan-3, and after you’ve eaten and rested, we’ll ask you to tell us what you’ve learned about what you call the button. We’ll return the rest of your things to you, or if you would prefer, we’ll give you vastly updated versions of everything. I’ll stay here and assist our men of science in examining the button while Jan-3 shows you around the city.”

  Jan-3 glanced back at me and walked from the chamber. Without speaking, the escorts and attendants disappeared behind a gold curtain.

  I quickly caught up with Jan-3 and asked, “Why do none of the attendants speak?”

  “They do speak if you ask them a question, but they aren’t programmed to initiate thought. They can only respond to thoughts that humans initiate.”

  Puzzled, I asked, “What do you mean—programmed?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jan-3 responded, “I thought you knew. They’re not humans—they’re robots. The men in the black and white robes were humans, and Roc-2 is human, of course, but all the rest are robots that are programmed to detect deceit.”

  “They looked human. How do they detect deceit?”

  “They are improvements on what in your time you called lie detectors. The lie detectors you used were not always reliable because of the possibility of human error. These robots are unfailing. They read every body movement, every change in voice tone. They scan the retinas of your eyes and read your thoughts. The troops who escorted us to the review chamber were robots, and they reported your thoughts of escaping. That made you suspect, but you told your story clearly and honestly. The debate between the man in black and the man in white was secondary to the decision, because their arguments were subject to human error. Even so, their opinions were a part of every decision because only humans can make decisions.”

  “Then lying is senseless,” I commented. “That would make it very difficult for lawyers, preachers, and politicians of my time.”

  Jan-3 smiled. “Yes, and it would have made it difficult for most sales persons, historians, and anyone else who made their living by over or under stating their positions and products. That’s why no one disobeys the law. The infraction would be noted at once.”

  Concerned about what I’d been thinking about Jan-3, I asked, “Can humans read other humans’ thoughts?”

  “People have always been intuitive, but we don’t read other’s thoughts—that would be an invasion of their privacy, and it would violate our law.”

  “Could you ask a robot to read thoughts for you?”

  “Yes, of course. That’s what we did when we examined you, but robots can only answer questions asked by humans. Having robots read thoughts for personal reasons would be harmful. No one would ask a robot to answer a question that would violate your privacy.”

  “Do you have crimes of passion?” I asked.

  “We all feel passionately about many things, but we don’t commit acts of violence. A person who would do that is flawed, and we would treat that flaw.” She changed the subject, “What would you like to know about our cities?”

  “As an engineer, I’d like to know how you build, power, and maintain your cities. But first, I’d like to get something to eat. I’m hungry!”

  “What would you like to eat?”

  “I’m a meat-and-potatoes man. I’d like a good steak.”

  “We don’t eat the flesh of animals, but we have restaurants that can provide whatever you want. I’ll take you to a place I think you’ll like.”

  Jan-3 walked to a pedestal by the door and dialed a number. Almost instantly, a keri that was smaller than a minivan appeared. By sitting back inside, we had complete privacy. The interior was upholstered in a material that looked like red velveteen. Sitting on a perfectly shaped seat upholstered in the finest material I had ever seen, I could imagine how sitting on a cloud might feel.

  Jan-3 dialed another series of numbers on the panel of the keri, and we were smoothly and silently on our way. The compartment moved so fast that I was unable to identify passing objects.

  In only seconds, we stopped in front of what appeared to be a small, secluded restaurant. A male attendant dressed in black led us to an alcove with a magnificent view of the ocean. A full moon cast shadows on the water below. We were hundreds of feet above the water, and the moving shadows gave depth and dimension to the scene. Dimly lighted keris scurried past.

  So much had happened since I had arrived in the thirty-first century that I hadn’t even noticed that the sun had set. Under normal conditions I would be getting tired but, perhaps because of the cleansing, I felt exhilarated.

  Our semi-darkened alcove was romantically private, and music, reminiscent of blue Hawaii, caressed the night. Our server, a pretty female, dressed in a shimmering-blue, loose-fitting blouse with a short, white satin-like skirt and pink undergarments, came to the table and asked, “Would you like wine?”

  “May I order?” Jan-3 asked as she looked questioningly at me.

  “Would you please? I know nothing of your wines. Even in my time, I’m no connoisseur.”

  She ordered a lightly chilled wine that was mildly dry with a slightly tart taste. It fit the occasion. I told her what it would be like if we were dining in the twenty-first century.

  She listened attentively, and then asked, “When men and women spend an evening together, how do they relate to one another?”

  Not completely understanding what she was asking, or why, I told her about the maneuvering men and women do to get the evening to end in the way they desired. I explained how most of the time men are interested in how this particular evening would end, while the women were usually more interested developing a long-term relationship.

  Smiling, Jan-3 blotted a drop of wine from her lower lip, and said, “That hasn’t changed much.”

  While we were enjoying our second glass of wine, the server appeared.

  “Order as you would at a restaurant where you came from,” Jan-3 said, “and I’ll have whatever you have.”

  I ordered Caesar salad for two, rib-eye steaks medium rare, with potatoes au gratin, sour dough bread, and apple pie for dessert.

  The server disappeared. After a reasonable time, the he returned with steaks, grilled perfectly. “If you don’t eat beef, where did the cook get these steaks?”

  “Those are not steaks; they’re manufactured duplications of steaks. Didn’t you have simulated foods?” she asked.

  “We had veggie burgers and stuff like that, but these steaks look and taste like the real thing.”

  Jan-3 said pleasantly, “We’ve been working on them for a thousand years. Does it surprise you that we have improved on what you had?”

  I agreed that a thousand years was enough time to make improvements. Most of our dinner conversation was about things Jan-3 wanted to know. I was surprised at how much she already knew, and at how quickly her agile mind grasped everything I told her. She was particularly interested in my childhood on the farm.

 
“Do you have family farms?” I asked.

  “We produce farm products and care for animals, but there are no family farms. We harvest milk, eggs and butter, grow cotton, and produce wool. We grow and harvest grains, nuts, and vegetables. Most vegetables are grown in multilayered planters with each layer climatically controlled. By conducting studies to determine the exact types and amounts of nutrients each crop needs we can produce food with better taste and texture. By using artificial sunlight, we accelerate plant growth many fold. The growing medium is sterilized and reused repeatedly. Air in the growing modules circulates through filters that cleanse it of all harmful substances.”

  “Then you don’t need to use herbicides or insecticides?” I asked.

  “That’s correct. The produce doesn’t need to be processed. It’s ready to eat just the way it’s harvested.”

  “Harvesting would be an interesting thing to see,” I said.

  “Then I’ll take you to see that when you’re not busy helping to develop the time-travel device.”

  The meal was delicious, the conversation interesting, the music and the setting were wonderful. Jan-3 was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I was thinking about where and how I would spend the night. Not wanting to press my luck, I said, “Perhaps you could direct me to a hotel.”

  “We have good hotels, and I’ll take you to one, if that’s what you want. But my feminine intuition tells me that you would rather spend the night with me. I have plenty of room, and I think I can make you comfortable.”

  “Your company is all I need to make me comfortable, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” she grinned.

  “Then let’s go, but how do I pay the bill?”

  “It’s been paid,” she said.

  “How did that work?” I asked.

  “The waiter scanned your retina with an invisible light, and the bill was charged to your account.”

  “But I have no account.”

  “Yes, you do,” she replied. “When we accepted you as one of us, an account was set up in your name.”

  “But I haven’t put anything into the account.”

  “Yes, you have. You’ve provided a valuable service by bringing the button to us, and you’ll assist us in developing the technology. Your occupation is already determined. You’re working now, and you’re being well-paid, so don’t worry about the bill.”

  Rising from the table, she reached for my hand and said, “Let’s go to my place.”

  I didn’t need a second invitation. We walked to the entrance, and Jan-3 dialed numbers on a pedestal by the door and in seconds, a traveling compartment appeared. We were transported to her apartment.

  Her apartment was near the top floor of the city and looked out over the ocean. Since the walls, floors, and ceilings were made of glass, Jan-3 had used carpets, ornamental throw-rugs, and drapes to give the place a warm, feminine feeling. Glowing lights appeared as celestial bodies in the glass ceiling, making the room feel as though we were outside. No fans were visible, but there was a slight breeze. Music with a soft rhythmic beat, probably designed for mood enhancement, filled the apartment. Her place had several rooms, and it was surprisingly spacious.

  “Do you have a shower? I’d like to get cleaned up.”

  She led me to a private enclosure, then pointing to some controls, said, “First, dial the temperature, and then turn the water on.” Pointing to knobs she continued, “This one regulates the intensity of the spray, and this one dispenses cleansing solution. The water is distilled, so it doesn’t take much. After you’ve finished your bath, step into this drying chamber. You’ll find fresh clothing folded on a table outside the door.” She stepped out of her garments, pointed to the enclosure, indicating I should enter, and said, “I’ll bathe with you.”

  Her flawless skin had the texture of rich cream, and her rounded hips and breasts were enormously arousing. I took her in my arms and she responded. We stepped into the hot, flowing water. The bath was more than refreshing; it was an adventure.

  After our bath, I put on the robe that had been laid out for me. It was like a kimono, easy to put on and very comfortable. Jan-3 slipped on a lavender robe, poured two glasses of wine, and we went to a patio extension of her apartment that overlooked the ocean some thirty floors below. In the distance, we saw groupings of lights that Jan-3 explained were satellite cities.

  We sat on a softly padded lounge. She snuggled into my arms; the silky texture of her skin and the fragrance of her hair were intoxicating. After we sipped wine and talked for a while, she took my hand and led me to her bed. Effortlessly, she slipped from her robe and lay on the elevated bed. The bedding was sensuously stimulating. It was a night I’ll never forget. . . .

  * * *

  I have no idea how long I slept, but when I awoke, sunlight was glistening through the glass walls. I looked around for Jan-3, but she wasn’t there. I showered, shaved, and dressed in the clothes I found on a stand beside the bed. These clothes were more formal than the ones I wore yesterday. The material felt like a blend of silk and wool. The fit was perfect and the tailoring excellent. These clothes were less decorative than the ones I wore yesterday, but I liked what I saw when I looked at my image in the mirror. They fit perfectly.

  The shoes needed no socks since they were softly padded and fit my feet, ankles, and calves snugly. The tops provided support; the soles were firm but not rigid, giving a spring to my stride.

  Jan-3 came dancing into the room in a pink dress that was form fitted to her hips, then pleated slightly below her knees. The pleated skirt swirled around her when she turned, exposing her shapely thighs. The bodice was low and accented her breasts, covering but not concealing her upturned nipples. Her shoes looked comfortable enough for walking, but the heels were elevated, shaping her slender ankles and calves even more. She smiled, and her eyes shined when she whispered in a low, sultry voice, “Last night was wonderful.”

  “It was the most satisfying experience of my life. I’ve never before felt so alive,” I said as I gathered her in my arms. “I’m famished. When do we eat?”

  “Breakfast is ready,” she replied. “I ordered bacon crisp, eggs over medium, buttered toast, and strawberry jam. If my memory serves me right, that’s a usual morning meal for the twenty-first century. The eggs are real, but the bacon isn’t. We can eat now if you want. The sun is too bright on the patio, so let’s eat in the dining alcove. We must eat quickly, though; Roc-2 says he needs your help with the button.”

  We ate while rays of the early morning sun radiated through the sculptured glass walls. After eating, we stepped out the door and Jan-3 pressed a series of numbers. A keri arrived almost immediately. This keri was smaller and cozier than the others we had traveled in.

  “Since Roc-2 is waiting for us, we’ll travel quickly,” Jan-3 said. “We can explore the city later.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 12

  In only seconds, we stopped in a long, dome that enclosed what looked like scientific tools and instruments lining both sides of an isle extending hundreds of feet. I didn’t recognize the equipment, but I recognized the atmosphere—it was a research laboratory.

  Roc-2 appeared as if by magic. I was beginning to understand that these people were able to appear from behind invisible doors, but it was still a bit unnerving. Recognizing my expression of surprise, Roc-2 smiled and said, “You’ll get used to it.” Glancing first at Jan-3, then back at me, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

  I knew a loaded question when I heard one, and not knowing the polite thing to do, I discreetly replied, “The bed was comfortable, and I feel refreshed. How can I help you with the button?”

  Jan-3 smiled, Roc-2 gave her a knowing look, and then introduced me to the four men helping him. “We’ve examined the button and know that it is heat-sealed, but we didn’t want to open it until after you show us how you used it.”

  I explained how I had accidentally dis
covered that the button would transport me to any desired location. All I had to do was to visualize the place and rub the red portion. And then I explained that by rubbing the blue or green sections, the button would move me forward or backward in time, and then white would return me to my original time and location.

  “It seems to me,” I explained, “that the mechanism in the button is connected electronically to the thought pattern of the user and responds to that thought.”

  Roc-2 listened closely, nodded, and said, “We’ve determined with our X-rays that there are electronic devices inside.” Handing the button to me he asked, “Could you show us how you used it?”

  Looking for a way to demonstrate, I saw that the far end of the laboratory was about fifty meters away. I said, “I’ll move to the far end of this enclosure and return.” I visualized myself at the far end, and rubbed the red. They saw me at the far end and waved. Then I rubbed the white, and instantly I was back. Everyone was astonished.

  “How far will it transport you?” one of the lab workers asked.

  “There doesn’t appear to be a limit.” Then I asked Roc-2, “How far is it to the place where we first met?”

  “Several thousand kilometers,” he answered.

  “Is there anything there that I can bring back, that will prove to you that I’ve been there?”

  Roc-2 thought for a moment and replied, “Yes, there’s a plum tree growing beside the stream and the plums are ripe. Bring me a ripe plum.”

  I transported to the stream, picked a ripe plum, returned, and handed it to Roc-2, at the same instant he had asked for it. They were really astonished. I had previously decided that nothing could surprise Roc-2, but he was surprised by what he had witnessed.