certain of the verdict? I grant Dr. Pinero every consideration that should
be given by this august body to any unaffiliated colleague, even though" �
he bowed slightly in Pinero's direction � "we may not be familiar with the
university which bestowed his degree. If what he has to say is false, it
cannot harm us. If what he has to say is true, we should know it." His
mellow, cultivated voice rolled on, soothing and calming. "If the eminent
doctor's manner appears a trifle inurbane of our tastes, we must bear in
mind that the doctor may be from a place, or a stratum, not so meticulous
in these matters. Now our good friend and benefactor has asked us to hear
this person and carefully assess the merit of his claims. Let us do so with
dignity and decorum."
He sat down to a tumble of applause, comfortably aware that he had enhanced
his reputation as an intellectual leader. Tomorrow the papers would again
mention the good sense and persuasive personality of "American's Handsomest
University President." Who knows; maybe now old Bidwell would come through
with that swimming-pool donation.
When the applause had ceased, the chairman turned to where the center of
the disturbance sat, hands folded over his little round belly, face serene.
'Will you continue, Dr. Pinero?"
"Why should I?"
The chairman shrugged his shoulders. "You came for that purpose."
Pinero arose. "So true. So very true. But was I wise to come? Is there
anyone here who has an open mind, who can stare a bare fact in the face
without blushing? I think not. Even that so-beautiful gentleman who asked
you to hear me out has already judged me and condemned me. He seeks order,
not truth. Suppose truth defies order, will he accept it? Will you? I think
not. Still, if I do not speak you will win your point by default. The
little man in the street will think that you little men have exposed me,
Pinero, as a hoaxer, a pretender.
"I will repeat my discovery. In simple language, I have invented a
technique to tell how long a man will live. r
can give you advance billing of the Angel of Death. I can tell you when the
Black Camel will kneel at your door. In five minutes' time, with my
apparatus, I can tell any of you how many grains of sand are still left in
your hour-glass." He passed and folded his arms across his chest. For a
moment no one spoke. The audience grew restless.
Finally the chairman intervened. "You aren't finished, Dr. Pinero?"
"What more is there to say?"
"You haven't told us how your discovery works."
Pinero's eyebrows shot up. "You suggest that I should turn over the fruits
of my work for children to play with? This is dangerous knowledge, my
friend. I keep it for the man who understands it, myself." He tapped his
chest.
"How are we to know that you have anything back of your wild claims?"
"So simple. You send a committee to watch me demonstrate. If it works,
fine. You admit it and tell the world so. If it does not work, I am
discredited, and will apologize. Even I, Pinero, will apologize."
A slender, stoop-shouldered man stood up in the back of the hall. The chair
recognized him and he spoke.
"Mr. Chairman, how can the eminent doctor seriously propose such a course?
Does he expect us to wait around for twenty or thirty years for someone to
die and prove his claims?"
Pinero ignored the chair and answered directly.
"Pfui! Such nonsense! Are you so ignorant of statistics that you do not
know that in any large group there is at least one who will die in the
immediate future? I make you a proposition. Let me test each one of you in
this room, and I will name the man who will die within the fortnight, yes,
and the day and hour of his death." He glanced fiercely around the room.
"Do you accept?"
Another figure got to his feet, a portly man who spoke in measured
syllables. "I, for one, cannot countenance such an experiment. As a medical
man, I have noted with sorrow the plain marks of serious heart trouble in
many of our elder colleagues. If Dr. Pinero knows those symptoms, as he
may, and were he to select as his victim one of their number, the man so
selected would be likely to die on schedule, whether the distinguished
speaker's mechanical egg timer works or not."
Another speaker backed him up at once. "Dr. Shepard is right. Why should we
waste time on voodoo tricks? It is my belief that this person who calls
himself Dr. Pinero wants to use this body to give his statements authority.
If we participate in this farce, we play into his hands. I don't know what
his racket is, but you can bet that he has figured out some way to use us
for advertising his schemes. I move, Mr. Chairman, that we proceed with our
regular business."
The motion carried by acclamation, but Pinero did not sit down. Amidst
cries of "Order! Order!" he shook his untidy head at them, and had his say.
"Barbarians! Imbeciles! Stupid dolts! Your kind have blocked the
recognition of every great discovery since time began. Such ignorant
canaille are enough to start Galileo spinning in his grave. That fat fool
down there twiddling his elk's tooth calls himself a medical man. Witch
doctor would be a better term! That little bald-headed runt over there �
You! You style yourself a philosopher, and prate about life and time in
your neat categories. What do you know of either one? How can you ever
learn when you won't examine the truth when you have a chance? Bah!" He
spat upon the stage. "You call this an Academy of Science. I call it an
undertakers' convention, interested only in embalming the ideas of your
red-blooded predecessors
He paused for breath and was grasped on each side by two members of the
platform committee and rushed out the wings. Several reporters arose
hastily from the press table and followed him. The chairman declared the
meeting adjourned.
The newspapermen caught up with Pinero as he was going out by the stage
door. He walked with a light, springy step, and whistled a little tune.
There was no trace of the belligerence he had shown a moment before. They
crowded about him. "How about an interview, doc?" "What d'yuh think of
modern education?" "You certainly told 'em. What are your views on life
after death?" "Take off your hat, doc, and look at the birdie."
He grinned at them all. "One at a time, boys, and not so fast. I used to be
a newspaperman myself. How about coming up to my place?"
A few minutes later they were trying to find places to sit down in Pinero's
messy bed-living room, and lighting his cigars. Pinero looked around and
beamed. "What'll it be, boys? Scotch or Bourbon?" When that was taken care
of he got down to business. "Now boys, what do you want to know?"
"Lay it on the line, doc. Have you got something, or haven't you?"
"Most assuredly I have something, my young friend."
"Then tell us how it works. That guff you handed the profs won't get you
anywhere now."
"Please, my dear fellow. It is my invention. I expect to make some money
with it. Would you have me give it away to the first perso
n who asks for
it?"
"See here, doc, you've got to give us something if you expect to get a
break in the morning papers. What do you use? A crystal ball?"
"No, not quite. Would you like to see my apparatus?"
"Sure. Now we're getting somewhere."
He ushered them into an adjoining room, and waved his hand. "There it is,
boys." The mass equipment that met their eyes vaguely resembled a medico's
office X-ray gear. Beyond the obvious fact that it used electrical power,
and that some of the dials were calibrated in familiar terms, a casual
inspection gave no clue to its actual use.
"What's the principle, doc?"
Pinero pursed his lips and considered. "No doubt you are all familiar with
the truism that life is electrical in nature. Well, that truism isn't worth
a damn, but it will help to give you an idea of the principle. You have
also been told that time is a fourth dimension. Maybe you believe it,
perhaps not. It has been said so many times that it has ceased to have any
meaning. It is simply a cliche that wind bags use to impress fools. But I
want you to try to visualize it now, and try to feel it emotionally."
He stepped up to one of the reporters. "Suppose we take you as an example.
Your name is Rogers, is it not? Very well, Rogers, you are a space-time
event having duration four ways. You are not quite six feet tall, you are
about twenty inches wide and perhaps ten inches thick. In time, there
stretches behind you more of this space-time event, reaching to, perhaps,
1905, of which we see a cross section here at right angles to the time
axis, and as thick as the present. At the far end is a baby, smelling of
sour milk and drooling its breakfast on its bib. At the other end lies,
perhaps, an old man some place in the 1980s. Imagine this space-time event,
which we call Rogers, as a long pink worm, continuous through the years. It
stretches past us here in 1939, and the cross section we see appears as a
single, discreet body. But that is illusion. There is physical continuity
to this pink worm, enduring through the years. As a matter of fact, there
is physical continuity in this concept to the entire race, for these pink
worms branch off from other pink worms. In this fashion the race is like a
vine whose branches intertwine and send out shoots. Only by taking a cross
section of the vine would we fall into the error of believing that the
shootlets were discreet individuals."
He paused and looked around at their faces. One of them, a dour,
hard-bitten chap, put in a word.
"That's all very pretty, Pinero, if true, but where does that get you?"
Pinero favored him with an unresentful smile. "Patience, my friend. I asked
you to think of life as electrical. Now think of our long, pink worm as a
conductor of electricity. You have heard, perhaps, of the fact that
electrical engineers can, by certain measurements, predict the exact
location of a break in a transatlantic cable without ever leaving the
shore. I do the same with our pink worms. By applying my instruments to the
cross section here in this room I can tell where the break occurs; that is
to say, where death takes place. Or, if you like, I can reverse the
connections and tell you the date of your birth. But that is uninteresting;
you already know it."
The dour individual sneered. "I've caught you, doc. If what you say about
the race being like a vine of pink worms is true, you can't tell birthdays,
because the connection with the race is continuous at birth. Your
electrical conductor reaches on back through the mother into a man's
remotest ancestors."
Pinero beamed. "True, and clever, my friend. But you have pushed analogy
too far. It is not done in the precise manner in which one measures the
length of an electrical conductor. In some ways it is more like measuring
the length of a long corridor by bouncing an echo off the far end. At birth
there is a sort of twist in the corridor, and, by proper calibration, I can
detect the echo from that twist."
"Let's see you prove it!"
"Certainly, my dear friend. Will you be a subject?"
One of the others spoke up. "He's called your bluff, Luke. Put up or shut
up."
"I'm game. What do I do?"
"First write the date of your birth on a sheet of paper, and hand it to one
of your colleagues."
Luke complied. "Now what?"
"Remove your outer clothing and step upon these scales. Now tell me, were
you ever very much thinner, or very much fatter, than you are now? No? What
did you weigh at birth? Ten pounds? A fine bouncing baby boy. They don't
come so big anymore."
"What is all this flubdubbery?"
"I am trying to approximate the average cross section of our long pink
conductor, my dear Luke. Now will you seat yourself here? Then place this
electrode in your mouth. No, it will not hurt you; the voltage is quite
low, less than one micro-volt, but I must have a good connection." The
doctor left him and went behind his apparatus, where he lowered a hood over
his head before touching his controls. Some of the exposed dials came to
life and a low humming came from the machine. It stopped and the doctor
popped out of his little hideway.
"I get sometime in February, 1902. Who has the piece of paper with the
date?"
It was produced and unfolded. The custodian read, "February 22, 1902."
The stillness that followed was broken by a voice from the edge of the
little group, "Doc, can I have another drink?"
The tension relaxed, and several spoke at once: "Try it on me, doc." "Me
first, doc; I'm an orphan and really want to know." "How about it, doc?
Give us all a little loose play."
He smilingly complied, ducking in and out of the hood like a gopher from
its hole. When they all had twin slips of paper to prove the doctor's
skill, Luke broke a long silence.
"How about showing how you predict death, Pinero?"
No one answered. Several of them nudged Luke forward. "Go ahead, smart guy.
You asked for it." He allowed himself to be seated in the chair. Pinero
changed some of the switches, then entered the hood. When the humming
ceased he came out, rubbing his hands briskly together.
"Well, thats all there is to see, boys. Got enough for a story?"
"Hey, what about the prediction? When does Luke get his 'thirty'?"
Luke faced him. "Yes, how about it?"
Pinero looked pained. "Gentlemen, I am surprised at you. I give that
information for a fee. Besides, it is a professional confidence. I never
tell anyone but the client who consults me."
"I don't mind. Go ahead and tell them."
"I am very sorry. I really must refuse. I only agreed to show you how; not
to give the results."
Luke ground the butt of his cigarette into the floor. "It's a hoax, boys.
He probably looked up the age of every reporter in town just to be ready to
pull this. It won't wash, Pinero."
Pinero gazed at him sadly. "Are you married, my friend?"
"No."
"Do you have anyone dependent on you? Any close relatives?"
"No. Why? Do
you want to adopt me?"
Pinero shook his head. "I am very sorry for you, my dear Luke. You will die
before tomorrow."
DEATH PUNCHES TIME CLOCK
. . . within twenty minutes of Pinero's strange pre-
diction, Timons was struck by a falling sign while
walking down Broadway toward the offices of the
Daily Herald where he was employed.
Dr. Pinero declined to comment but confirmed the
story that he had predicted Timons' death by means
of his so-called chronovitameter. Chief of Police
Roy. . . .
Does the FUTURE worry you??????
Don't waste money on fortune-tellers-
Consult
Dr. Hugo Pinero, Bio-Consultant
He will help you plan for the future
by infallible
SCIENTIFIC METHODS
No "Spirit' Messages
$10,000 Bond posted in forfeit to back
our predictions
Circular on request
SANDS of TIME, Inc.
Majestie Bldg., Suite 700
( adv. )
Legal Notice
To whom it may concern, greetings; I, John Cabot Winthrop III, of the firm
of Winthrop, Winthrop, Ditmars and Winthrop, Attorney-at-law, do affirm
that Hugo Pinero of this city did hand to me ten thousand dollars in lawful
money of the United States, and did instruct me to place it in escrow with
a chartered bank of my selection with escrow instructions as follows:
The entire bond shall be forfeit, and shall forthwith be paid to the first
client of Hugo Pinero and/or Sands of Time, Inc., who shall exceed his life
tenure as predicted by Hugo Pinero by one per centum, or the estate of the
first client who shall fail of such predicted tenure in a like amount,
whichever occurs first in point of time.
Subscribed and sworn,
John Cabot Winthrop III.
Subscribed and sworn to before
me this 2nd day of April, 1939.
Albert M. Swanson
Notary Public in and for this
county and State My commission
expires June 17, 1939.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Radio Audience, let's go to press! Flash! Hugo
Pinero, the Miracle Man from Nowhere, has made his thousandth death
prediction without anyone claiming the reward he offered to the first
person who catches him failing to call the turn. With thirteen of his
clients already dead, it is mathematically certain that he has a private
line to the main office of the Old Man with the Scythe. That is one piece
of news I don't want to know about before it happens. Your coast-to-coast
correspondent will not be a client of Prophet Pinero�"
The judge's watery baritone cut through the stale air of the courtroom.
"Please, Mr. Weems, let us return to our subject. This court granted your
prayer for a temporary restraining order, and now you ask that it be made
permanent. In rebuttal, Dr. Pinero claims that you have presented no cause
and asks that the injunction be lifted, and that I order your client to
cease from attempts to interfere with what Pinero describes as a simple,
lawful business. As you are not addressing a jury, please omit the rhetoric
The Worlds Of Robert A Heinlein Page 13
