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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31585-h.zip b/31585-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d9c8b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/31585-h.zip diff --git a/31585-h/31585-h.htm b/31585-h/31585-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1ba66f --- /dev/null +++ b/31585-h/31585-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1339 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Amazing Mrs. Mimms, by David C. Knight + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 25%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.blockquot1 { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 100%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amazing Mrs. Mimms, by David C. Knight + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Amazing Mrs. Mimms + +Author: David C. Knight + +Release Date: March 10, 2010 [EBook #31585] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMAZING MRS. MIMMS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe August 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="551" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="sidenote"><i>"Long may the good lady serve us poor folks in the dim +past," writes the author, who will be remembered for his</i> <span class="smcap">THE LOVE OF +FRANK NINETEEN</span> <i>(Dec. 1957) and who feels that much of SF "misses" +because it lacks the human angle. "I believe you can have gimmicks and +human interest too," he writes.</i></div> +<p> </p> +<h1>the amazing mrs. mimms</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2><i>by ... David C. Knight</i></h2> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Tea had a wonderful effect on her. Sipping it slowly, she<br /> +felt the strength returning to her tired system.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>There was a muffled rushing noise and the faintly acrid smell of ion +electrodes as the Time Translator deposited Mrs. Mimms back into the +year 1958. Being used to such journeys, she looked calmly about with +quick gray eyes, making little flicking gestures with her hands as if +brushing the stray minutes and seconds from her plain brown coat.</p> + +<p>The scene of Mrs. Mimms' arrival in the past was the rear of a large +supermarket, more specifically between two packing cases which had +once contained breakfast foods. The excursion through time had +evidently been a smooth one for the smile had not once left Mrs. +Mimms' rotund countenance during the intervening centuries.</p> + +<p>Two heavy black suitcases appeared to be the lady's only luggage +accompanying her from the future. These she picked up with a sharp +gasp and made her way to the front of the shopping center around which +slick new apartment buildings formed a horseshoe.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms was, as usual, on another assignment for Destinyworkers, +Inc.</p> + +<p>It was early evening at the Greenlawn Apartments, a time supposedly +of contentment, yet Mrs. Mimms was quick to sense the disturbing +vibrations in the warm air. She pressed through the crowds entering +and leaving the supermarket. A faint mustache of perspiration formed +on her upper lip. No one offered to help her with the bags. With a +professional eye Mrs. Mimms noted the drawn mouths, the tense +expressions typical of the Time Zone and shook her head. Central as +usual had not been wrong; the Briefing Officer himself had cautioned +her on what poor shape the Zonal area was in.</p> + +<p>Jostling Mrs. Mimms on all sides were mostly young men and women +accompanied by energetic, wriggling children of varying ages. It +saddened Mrs. Mimms to see the premature lines forming in the youthful +mothers' foreheads, and the gray settling too quickly into the men's +hair. Mrs. Mimms, who considered herself not quite in the twilight of +middle age, was just 107 that month.</p> + +<p>Outbursts of juvenile and adult temper grated harshly in the +Destinyworker's ears. She witnessed a resounding slap and a child's +cry of pain. A young mother was shouting angrily: "Couldn't <i>you</i> have +kept an eye on her? Do I have to watch her every minute?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms hurried swiftly on for there was much she had to do. Then +she stopped abruptly before a small delicatessen. She entered and gave +the clerk her order:</p> + +<p>"One package of Orange Pekoe Tea, if you please. Tea <i>leaves</i>, not +bags."</p> + +<p>There were definite advantages, thought Mrs. Mimms, in being assigned +to any century preceding the Twenty-Third. Due to the increasing use +of synthetic products in Mrs. Mimms' home-century the tea plant, among +other vegetation, had been allowed to become extinct. Ever since Mrs. +Mimms' solo assignment to Eighteenth Century England, she had grown +exceedingly fond of the beverage.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Mrs. Mimms, one of Destinyworkers' best Certified +Priority Operators, reached the Renting Office of the Greenlawn +Apartments. "I do hope the Superintendent is still on duty," panted +Mrs. Mimms, setting her bags down very carefully. "If the Research +Department is correct—and it usually is—his hours are from 9 to +6:30."</p> + +<p>It was one minute past 6:30 when Mrs. Mimms knocked.</p> + +<p>"Yeah?" boomed a disgruntled voice. "Come on in. It ain't locked."</p> + +<p>"Good evening," said Mrs. Mimms to a young man in work clothes seated +behind a paper-strewn desk. "I hope it's not too late for you to show +me an apartment tonight. It needn't be large. Two or three rooms will +do nicely. However, I have one stipulation."</p> + +<p>"We aim to please at Greenlawn, Ma'am—within reason—you understand."</p> + +<p>"I understand," replied the Destinyworker. "It is merely that the +apartment should, as far as possible, be located in the central part +of the building and on a middle floor—not too high or too low."</p> + +<p>"No problem there," said the super, consulting a board from which hung +a number of keys. "Most of 'em want just the opposite—corner +apartments, views, top floor, Southern exposure. Here's one. Partly +furnished. Young couple left for Europe. They want to sublet for the +rest of the lease."</p> + +<p>"I hope the rent is reasonable."</p> + +<p>It was. Mrs. Mimms received the news with apparent relief. Due to the +high cost of Time Translation and maintenance of workers in other +Zones, Destinyworkers, Inc., a non-profit organization, had to keep +its overhead at a minimum.</p> + +<p>"This will do very nicely," Mrs. Mimms announced after inspecting the +apartment. "I should like to move in at once." The superintendent then +brought up his new tenant's suitcases, commented upon their weight, +obtained Mrs. Mimms' signature on the preliminary lease and left.</p> + +<p>Even for younger Destinyworkers, time travel at best was an exhausting +business. The bags <i>had</i> been heavy, and Zonal Speech Compliance was +always a strain at the outset of an assignment. Mrs. Mimms needed +refreshment. Finding a battered pot and a broken cup abandoned by the +former tenants, she heated water on the range and made herself some +hot tea. Sipping it slowly Mrs. Mimms felt the strength returning to +her tired system.</p> + +<p>Having eaten an early dinner in the future Mrs. Mimms was not hungry. +The tea would be sufficient until tomorrow. She washed the cup +carefully, put away the pot and then unlocked one of her black +suitcases. From it she extracted a small white card on which there was +some printing and a phone number at the bottom. Mrs. Mimms checked the +phone number with the telephone in her new apartment; they were the +same. Research was almost <i>never</i> wrong. Mrs. Mimms then took the card +down to the main floor and attached it to a bulletin board with four +thumbtacks. The message read:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Mrs. Althea Mimms</i><br /> +Professional Companion & Babysitter<br /> +Rates Reasonable +</p> + +<p>Back in her apartment, the time traveler opened the other suitcase. It +contained a batch of weird-looking apparatus which faintly resembled a +television set, although there were twice the number of dials and +knobs. To the uninitiated eye the legends under them would have been +perplexing—"Month Selector," "Reverse Day Fast-Forward," +"Weekometer," "Minute-Second Divider." To Mrs. Mimms however the +instrument was simply standard equipment for all assignments. She +placed it carefully on the desk in her living room and, one by one, +drew out the five sensitive antennae from their sockets. Mrs. Mimms +did not need to use the electrical outlet under the desk for new d-c +ion batteries had been installed whose combined guaranteed life was +five years.</p> + +<p>It had grown somewhat late at Greenlawn—the hands of Mrs. Mimms' +watch were nearing eleven—yet this did not deter her from flicking +the power on. She dialed to a position a few hours before on that same +evening and waited for the equipment to warm up. A roar of angry +static and strident voices suddenly filled the room until Mrs. Mimms +quickly cut the volume. The outburst was definitely an indication that +her work was cut out for her. Eyeing the red pilot indicator across +which a ribbon of names was flashing she slowly twirled the Master +Selector. Images flickered and disappeared on the screen; then +suddenly Mrs. Mimms leaned forward anxiously. A living room much like +her own came into view and in it a man and a woman faced each other +menacingly. The pilot was flashing the name Randolph, Apt. 14-B.</p> + +<p>Reducing the volume slightly, Mrs. Mimms listened:</p> + +<p>"You don't care, Bill Randolph. If you cared we could be out somewhere +right now. My God, it's Saturday night. I'll bet the Bairds and +Simmons are at a show right now. But not us. Oh, no. Honestly, I don't +think you'd stir out of that chair if it weren't for your meals and +the office."</p> + +<p>"You're a great one to talk," snapped the young man. "Every time we +decide to line something up you get finicky about a sitter. How many +times have we sat for Ruth Whatshername? And we're up at Ellen Fox's a +couple of nights, too. Then our kid comes down with a cold or +something and they're not good enough. No wonder we never get out."</p> + +<p>"Can I help it if Kenny takes after <i>your</i> side of the family? You and +your mother are always coming down with something. He's <i>sensitive</i>. I +won't have some other woman taking care of my child when he needs my +attention. And I <i>won't</i> have these teenage girls for Kenneth with +their boyfriends lolling all over the sofa. I wouldn't have an easy +minute while we were away. Anyway, when we <i>do</i> get out I don't notice +you bending over backwards to get tickets for anything decent. It's +always something <i>you</i> want to see. Those silly Marilyn Monroe movies, +for instance."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with Marilyn Monroe? I wouldn't <i>mind</i> being nagged by +<i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>"I see," choked the young woman, biting her lip. "Thank you very much. +Of course it's perfectly <i>OK</i> when something is wrong with every other +meal I cook. It's <i>fine</i> when Your Majesty doesn't like the dress I've +got on or the way I have my hair."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Randolph's rising voice elicited a child's cry from the rear of +the apartment. Both parents stiffened.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, say it, say it was <i>me</i> who woke him up this time," bleated +Randolph. He quickly snapped a newspaper up between himself and his +wife.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms cut the picture and erased the name from the pilot +indicator. The case was a typical one, routine in fact; yet it was the +first one of the assignment and Mrs. Mimms was moved to expedite it. +She picked up the telephone and placed a call to nearby New York City. +The party answered promptly.</p> + +<p>"Althea! How nice. I didn't know you were in the Twentieth again. What +can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"You can arrange some entertainment for me, George. Something good. +For two."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms held the phone for a minute. Presently the conversation +resumed as the voice of George Kahn, Resident Destinyworker, came over +the wire.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to be so long, Althea, it took some managing. I've got you two +in the orchestra for 'My Fair Lady' on the 28th. That's the best of +the current crop. Nice little thing, it'll be running for another four +years of course. Ought to catch it yourself some night."</p> + +<p>"I'd love to, George, but I shan't have time. Not the way this +assignment's developing. You know what to do with the tickets."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms replaced the telephone in its cradle and turned again to +the Master Selector. Among the kaleidoscope of voices and figures not +all were scenes of frustration and discontent. Yet enough of them were +so that Mrs. Mimms was seriously disturbed. Then again, the apparatus +had its indiscriminate faults: at one scene Mrs. Mimms blushed deeply +and flicked the dial to another setting. Suddenly she was surprised to +hear a familiar voice. The pilot monitor showed that it was the +apartment of the building superintendent.</p> + +<p>"It ain't right. You know it ain't right," the super was saying. He +was sunk deep into an overstuffed chair and there was a can of beer at +his elbow. "No wonder the kids're getting lousy report cards. The +minute they get home from school they park in front of the TV. By the +time they're ready for supper they're so excited watching Indians and +cowboys and Foreign Legion stuff they can't eat. Afterwards they are +too knocked out to do their homework."</p> + +<p>"Don't I know it," said his wife. "But you can't forbid them because +all the other kids are allowed to watch the same things. Adele Jones +down the hall says she has the same trouble. They tried taking Brian's +TV away and the kid put up such a fuss they gave it back just to get +some peace."</p> + +<p>The super took a swallow of beer and tapped one of the report cards in +disgust.</p> + +<p>"Look at that. Charlotte gets a 'D' in Reading. Goddam it, she's a +smart enough kid. I can't remember when's the last time I saw <i>either</i> +of them bring a book back from the library. Hell, they're too busy +worrying about how Sergeant Prestons' going to come out."</p> + +<p>"You'd think they'd have more educational stuff on TV."</p> + +<p>"I may be only a superintendent," growled the super, "but, by God, +those kids are going to college. They're gonna have opportunities I +never had. Sometimes I got a good mind to kick a hole right through +that 21" screen."</p> + +<p>"Aw, Chuck, honey, take it easy. You're the best super this building +ever had. I got me a real sweet guy, even if he isn't no college +graduate."</p> + +<p>"I ain't no Biff Baker or Captain Video, either. Maybe if I was the +kids could watch me and we could dump the TV set."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms dimmed the screen and recorded the problem briefly in a +notebook marked ACTIVE. This too was a common enough complaint of the +Time Zone. Mrs. Mimms rummaged about in one of the suitcases until she +produced a brightly colored box. Inside the box were a number of +objects resembling radio condensers with small metal clamps at either +end. Mrs. Mimms removed one and read the label: FILTER XC8794, +Reading. <i>Caution: for best results attach to TV aerial. Lasts 2 weeks +only. Destroy label before using.</i></p> + +<p>"I <i>do</i> hope the superintendent's set doesn't have rabbits' ears," +said Mrs. Mimms, dialing the super's apartment again to check. +"Hooking these up to a regular aerial is so much easier." The +superintendent's set luckily had an outside antenna and by +manipulating certain dials, the Destinyworker traced it out and up to +the roof. Pressing a button marked TRACER LIGHT, she left the set in +operation and made her way up to the top floor of the apartment house. +Taking the fire exit to the roof, Mrs. Mimms found herself among a +forest of TV aerials. However there was a small circle of light cast +about one of them and she went to it and attached the filter.</p> + +<p>Returning to her apartment, Mrs. Mimms went immediately to bed. She +would have liked a last cup of tea before retiring, but she was too +tired to fix it.</p> + +<p>The telephone woke the time traveler at half past ten the next +morning. She answered it sleepily. It was a young mother, Mrs. Mimms' +first customer. Could Mrs. Mimms <i>possibly</i> come that night? The voice +sounded desperate, then relieved when Mrs. Mimms answered Yes, she +would be there.</p> + +<p>Remembering that she had had nothing to eat since her own century, +Mrs. Mimms hurried below to the delicatessen and purchased some Danish +pastry. She looked forward to a cup of strong tea. As she waited for +the water to boil, she switched on the apparatus and dialed once or +twice across the band. At that hour most of the apartments were +silent. Wives were attending to cleaning or washing and the children +had been sent out to play. Leaving the apparatus for a minute, Mrs. +Mimms made her tea. When she returned there was a burst of static on +the loudspeaker, then a loud childish voice and images took shape on +the screen.</p> + +<p>"I'm captain of this spaceship, Ronnie Smith," insisted the taller of +the two youngsters. "You gotta do like I say. We're the first guys on +this planet, see? We got cut off from the ship by the monsters and we +only got another half hour of oxygen left. We gotta shoot our way +back. Let's go, Lieutenant Smith."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're always the captain," muttered Lt. Smith mutinously, though +inaudibly under his F.A.O. Schwartz plastic helmet. The two Earthlings +advanced cautiously across the parking lot in the rear of the +apartment building, mowing down the aliens like flies with their +atomic ray guns.</p> + +<p>"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. See me get that one, Smith?" screamed the captain +murderously. "Right in the belly, look at the guts. Ah-ah-ah-ah. Big +spiders, about twenty feet tall. There's some more. Make every shot +count, Smith. We gotta make the ship before they do."</p> + +<p>"I just blasted five of 'em with one shot," bragged Lt. Smith, +leveling his pistol at a particularly large alien and watching it +dissolve.</p> + +<p>Fighting their way desperately across the parking lot the spacemen +finally made the Smith family car in safety. "Blast off immediately, +Lt. Smith," ordered the captain. The rocket wavered for a minute and +rose. "Wait a minute, Smith. I seen Rocky Morgan do this once in a +comic book. No member of the Space Patrol lets an alien get away +alive. We got to kill 'em all. Head back and we'll get the rest of 'em +with the hydrogen artillery." Accordingly the ship swept low over the +strange planet. "Ah-ah-ah-ah." Twin sheets of imaginary flame burst +from the rocket and the remainder of the faltering spider-monsters +perished horribly.</p> + +<p>Shaking her head, Mrs. Mimms spun the Master Selector until the screen +went blank. An avid space traveler herself (she was especially fond of +a nice Lunar trip at vacation time), the negative implications of this +childish violence had a depressing effect on Mrs. Mimms. She noted the +incident down in her notebook and starred it for special attention.</p> + +<p>Like any woman in any century, Mrs. Mimms had an infallible remedy for +cheering herself up. She went shopping. By economizing on her expense +account she found it possible to afford a tiny luxury now and then. +Mrs. Mimms bought a badly needed blouse and some facial cream. She +also bought some groceries and a newspaper. After a modest meal, she +found that she had an hour before her babysitting assignment. Opening +the newspaper to the sports page, she indulged in one of the +amusements common among Certified Priority Operators. Glancing down +the list of tomorrow's daily-double she checked the names of horses +to win, place and show. Mrs. Mimms made her selections merely by the +sound of the names. She then turned a knob marked Tomorrow and dialed +about with the Master Selector until the image of a man reading a +newspaper appeared on the screen. She waited until he turned to the +sports page before seeing how she had done. She had done poorly. Only +one winner out of seven races. Of course, using the Destiny apparatus +itself for personal gain was a violation of the Direct Influencing of +Personal Fate Clause and was sufficient reason for losing her CPO +ticket.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Mimms returned from babysitting it was after midnight. A cup +of tea at her elbow, she sat down before the screen. There was a party +just breaking up in the far building. Some people above her were +watching the late show on TV. A couple on her own floor were arguing +about money but the argument seemed to be nearly over and Mrs. Mimms +did not intrude further. Suddenly the pilot marked URGENT started +flashing and the blurs on the screen sharpened into a young man and +woman seated across from each other in the apartment where the party +had been. Half-finished drinks and ash trays full of stubs lay about. +Husband and wife were both slightly drunk and being very frank with +each other.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how we got off on <i>this</i>," remarked the man. "Whenever +George gets a couple of drinks in him he starts popping off about +politics and the fate of the world. He doesn't know a damn thing about +either."</p> + +<p>"Well, at least he's optimistic," the young woman said, kicking off +her shoes.</p> + +<p>"You can say that again! Fifty years from now, according to George, +we'll all be living in plastic houses with three helicopters in each +garage. There won't be any unemployment, we'll have a four-day week, +atomic energy'll be doing all the heavy work, mankind'll have realized +the futility of war, everything'll be just hunky-dory. Nuts! Guys like +George make me sick."</p> + +<p>"But good Lord, honey, if everyone felt like you there wouldn't <i>be</i> +any world. Maybe things won't be perfect but life's got to go on."</p> + +<p>"Go on to what?" muttered the husband, polishing off his watery +highball. "—To a great big beautiful cloud of atomic fallout, that's +what. Don't laugh either, because everything points that way and you +know it. Sputniks and ICBMs zooming around, both sides stockpiling +like crazy, half the world scrapping as it is. It's just a question of +who tosses the first match and then blooie! Hell, Julie, it's not that +I don't <i>want</i> another kid. It's just that I don't think it's fair to +create human life and turn it loose in this—this holocaust."</p> + +<p>The young woman got up and sat on the arm of his chair and stroked +his hair. "Oh Bill, honey, it's <i>wrong</i> to think like that. Don't you +see how wrong it is?" Suddenly she wrinkled her nose at him and +whispered some words in his ear. They were in the special +baby-language which had sprung up around the first child.</p> + +<p>Then she said tipsily: "A baby is such a tiny thing."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," said her husband, "you feed them and take care of them and +watch them grow and it's swell. Just like the fatted calf. Then you +flip open the evening paper and wonder whether they'll have the good +luck to die in their beds at a ripe old age. I tell you I'm honestly +frightened of where we're going...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There were tense little crow's feet about Mrs. Mimms' eyes as she +cleared the screen. She reached immediately for the telephone and +dialed a number. A couple of seconds later the Resident +Destinyworker's voice said, "Hello?"</p> + +<p>"George, this is Althea. I'm sorry to be calling so late but I have a +Condition Twelve case."</p> + +<p>George Kahn's voice was instantly alert. "Male?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a good Third Intensity. Here are the coordinates if you want +to rerun it yourself." Mrs. Mimms read some figures off the dials. +"I'm authorized a week's night-teleportation but I only have the +standard equipment of course. You have the Viele apparatus over there, +haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but frankly, Althea, even with the Viele we're limited in what +we can do. I don't have to tell you that's getting pretty close to +Direct Influence. I tampered with it myself a couple of years ago and +got a stiff reprimand from Central."</p> + +<p>"But, George, this is a <i>Twelve</i>. A serious one. The files at Central +are full of Anti-Population Projectographs. All that might-have-been +talent that's lost in every Time Zone! Think what might have happened +if we hadn't interfered in the Voltaire case! Why we might even have +lost Darwin himself if Mr. Wentworth hadn't insisted on three nights +of the Viele for Darwin's parents."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," admitted the Resident Destinyworker. "All right, Althea, +I'll give him a week's dream kinesis if you insist but just remember +the Sophistication Curve in the Twentieth. You'll probably have to +supplement it with some work of your own."</p> + +<p>"Thank you George, I will."</p> + +<p>"And Althea—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You sound tired. Get a good night's rest. The Mid-Twentieth's a tough +Zone and the Chief would not want one of his best CPO's taking on more +than she can handle. Personally, I think you ought to ask him for a +nice soft assignment in the Future Division next trip."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms smiled. "I'll leave the glamor to the youngsters, George, +they're much better at it. Besides," she added, "there isn't any tea +there."</p> + +<p>Again, Mrs. Mimms would have liked a cup, but she was much too tired +to prepare it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Three weeks after Mrs. Mimms' arrival at the Greenlawn Apartments, the +superintendent was repairing a leaky faucet on the top floor. The +housewife watched him as he gave the nut a final twist with his wrench +and stood up.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for coming up and looking at it so soon, Mr. Seely," she said. +"How are Mrs. Seely and the children?"</p> + +<p>"Good Mrs. Dorne, real good, thanks. Especially the kids after that +new TV show came on."</p> + +<p>"Oh?" said Mrs. Dorne. "Which one is that?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't on no more," said the super, "but, boy, while it lasted the +kids sure got a kick out of it. That little Charlotte of mine, she's +going to be a real egghead."</p> + +<p>"Well what kind of a show was it?"</p> + +<p>"Reading," said the super. "Just reading. I ain't sure what they +called it, but I know there wasn't no sponsor. Maybe that's why it +lasted only two weeks or so. Some kind of test show I guess it was."</p> + +<p>"I guess we missed it listening to something else. What channel was it +on?"</p> + +<p>"Now that you mention it I'm darned if I remember," Chuck Seely said. +"The kids just come home from school one night and parked in front of +the TV like always and instead of the westerns and like that here's +this guy, just reading. It lasted about an hour every night, we +couldn't drag the kids away. Me and the wife got in the habit watching +it too."</p> + +<p>"Was it Charles Laughton? He has a reading program."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't him. I never saw the guy before, but what a voice! No +commercials, no scenery, no nothin' except this guy reading. Something +different every night, too. Stuff like Dickens and famous writers like +that. I never heard a voice like this guy had, you couldn't stop +listening. Then you know what he'd do at the end of the show?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"He'd tell the kids to go get a pencil and write down the names of +more books to get at the library. And you know what? The kids <i>do</i> it. +That Charlotte, the other night she brings home some Shakespeare +stories for kids by a guy named Lamb. She makes me read 'em to her, +too. Get a load o' me reading Shakespeare. I got to admit they're +pretty good stories. That Charlotte's going to be a real egghead."</p> + +<p>"We usually have our TV on around supper time. It's funny we missed +it."</p> + +<p>"I checked TV Guide but it was not listed," said the super. "It was +some kind of test show. I guess this guy couldn't find a sponsor."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A week after this incident Betty Randolph picked up the telephone and +said, "Hello?" It was Dot on the ground floor. Ed had phoned earlier +and said he'd be a little late. Betty felt relaxed and just in the +mood for some woman talk.</p> + +<p>"Dot, you'll never guess where we were last night," she said. "We saw +My Fair Lady, imagine! Don't you envy me?"</p> + +<p>There was a gasp at the other end of the line. "Betty Randolph, you +didn't! We've been on the waiting list for six months. Where in the +world did you get tickets?"</p> + +<p>"That's the weird part of it. A messenger just delivered them to Ed in +the office one morning. They were in a plain envelope marked 'Mr. +Randolph' and a card inside said 'Hope you enjoy them—George.' Ed +thinks the messenger made a mistake and got the wrong building or +something because Ed's the only Randolph there. Anyway, by the time Ed +opened the envelope the messenger was gone. There wasn't anything to +do but use the tickets of course."</p> + +<p>"Of all the luck! Maybe you and Ed've got a fairy Godmother or +something. What'd you do for a sitter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we were nearly insane finding one. Jane and Tina were busy and we +knew you were away for the weekend. Fortunately we phoned this Mrs. +Mimms and she was available. Kenneth <i>loved</i> her."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she <i>nice</i>? That woman's a wonder with children. Dicky and Sue +are as good as gold when she's around and she always seems to be free +when you want her. She's so cheap, too, I don't see how the woman +lives."</p> + +<p>"Glory we had a good time!" sighed Betty. "We had drinks and filet +mignon at a nice little place near the theater and forgot all about +kids for a while. It was like going on a date again. I had on my +red-and-gold dress I haven't worn for months and Ed kept telling me +how cute I looked...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Zoom, zoom," the captain kept saying. The spaceship swooped in for a +landing on the crimson Martian sands. Captain Bobby Taylor took up a +position before the air-lock and briefed his second-in-command, Ronnie +Smith. "We're surrounded by enemy aliens, Smith," announced Captain +Taylor. "Better break out the death-ray pistols. Our mission is to +destroy every metal monster on this planet. Look at 'em come! They got +eight legs and sixteen wire arms...."</p> + +<p>"Ah, cut it out, Bobby. I ain't playing science-fiction with you any +more. It ain't like you say at all."</p> + +<p>"What's it like then, wise guy? I suppose <i>you</i> been to Mars."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I ain't," said Lt. Smith. "Anyways I know somebody that <i>has</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yeah? Who?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Mimms. She babysits with me when Mom and Dad go out. She's been +all over in space. Venus and all them other planets. She says there +ain't any monsters on any of 'em. There ain't <i>nuthin</i> on Mars except +a little bitty grass and a lot of scientists from Earth."</p> + +<p>"Mad scientists?" asked Captain Taylor hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Nah, just scientists. She says we oughta forget about monsters and +play the right way. You know, like with atomic reactors and radar +communication and growing new kinds of food for Earth colonies."</p> + +<p>"Ah I don't believe it. She'd hafta be from someplace in the future. +She'd hafta come here by time machine or something, wouldn't she?"</p> + +<p>"That's what she did," Lt. Smith informed the captain. "She showed me +pictures to prove it. Pictures of her last vacation on the moon. You +oughta see what they done to the place. She's from the future, all +right."</p> + +<p>"Then she ain't supposed to tell anybody about it, is she?"</p> + +<p>Lt. Smith waved his hand airily. "She says it's OK to tell kids +because grownups wouldn't believe it anyway. Get your mother to let +her sit for you next time. She'll show you the pictures if you ask +her. Heck, it's no fun playing monsters now."</p> + +<p>"Well, look," said Captain Taylor magnanimously, "supposing I let you +be Captain today. You can pretend any kind of stuff you want."</p> + +<p>"OK," said the new Captain, and immediately postulated a gigantic +atomic reactor on the planet Pluto.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The doctor had said Julie should not, but she had another cup of +coffee anyway. She drank it and then lit a cigarette. Immediately she +felt a twinge of the morning sickness and wisely snubbed it out in the +ashtray. She was so happy it almost didn't hurt at all. I'm pregnant +again, she thought, that's the important thing. Julie hugged herself +and thought again of Mrs. Mimms and her tea leaves. It was the +silliest thing, she told herself, you didn't base important decisions +on tea leaves. Not <i>tea</i> leaves. It was right after the week Bill had +been having those queer dreams that they'd decided, well, to go ahead. +Julie remembered Bill's face as he sat on the edge of her bed +describing one of the dreams to her as she laid there.</p> + +<p>"It was vivid as hell, honey," Bill had said. "Maybe I ought to give +up eating cheese sandwiches at night or something. It's like dreaming +on the installment plan. Every time I'm someplace different and some +guy in a weird suit is showing me around. Last night I could swear it +was somewhere in New York, only the buildings were a lot taller and +there were kind of triple-decker ramp things with nutty-looking cars +on them and the people all wore tight-fitting clothes. Then all of a +sudden we were down on what looked like the Battery and the guy showed +me a big cookie-shaped thing out in the harbor with planes that looked +like flying saucers landing and taking off from it. Hell, maybe it's +going to be George Humphry's kind of world after all a couple of +hundred years from now."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Then a night or two later they'd gone out to a movie. She'd been lucky +to get Mrs. Mimms to sit with Georgie. After they got back Mrs. Mimms +had made some tea—<i>real</i> tea she'd brought from her own apartment. +When she offered to tell their fortunes in the leaves, Julie began to +giggle ... until she saw Bill was taking it perfectly seriously. Maybe +it was the quiet way Mrs. Mimms had discussed their futures over the +brown leaves, as if she'd been there herself. Funny old duck. +Wonderful with Georgie, though; and the other girls swore by her. Bill +hadn't batted an eye when she predicted it would be a girl this time, +and perfectly healthy and all right.</p> + +<p>Julie peeked into the bedroom where Georgie was sleeping and pulled +the blanket up under his chin. "According to Mrs. Mimms, my lad, +you'll be getting a baby sister soon," she whispered. Bill <i>had</i> +changed lately. Not so gloomy somehow, nicer. But <i>tea</i> leaves, for +Heaven's sake, they couldn't have anything to do with....</p> + +<p>She stopped trying to figure it out because the nausea returned. This +time it was bad and she had to run for the bathroom.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The crisp directive—Zonally disguised as a contemporary telegram—was +forwarded to Mrs. Mimms on a Monday night. Although it bore the +Resident Destinyworker's address, it had come of course directly from +the Chief's office for the code word DESTWORK headed the message. +Decoded, it read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot1"><p>URGENT YOU CLOSE OUT PRESENT ASSIGNMENT IN DAY OR TWO. +CONDITION 16 IN 22ND CENTURY APPROACHING CRISIS. IMPORTANT +ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL BE CONCENTRATED. PICK-UP AT POINT OF +ENTRY ACCORDING TO PROCEDURE. BRIEFING TO COME FROM KEY +RESIDENTS. ALL VACATIONS AND LEAVES-OF-ABSENCE HEREWITH +CANCELLED.</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms sighed. It was always this way she reflected. Central was +perpetually short of experienced help. The younger Destinyworkers, +fresh from the colleges, always wanted to traipse off into the future +where nothing practical ever got done. Oh, they argued, you could +always read about the past if you wanted to and, anyway, since Direct +Influence on Historic Continuum was strictly forbidden, what was the +good of wandering around in musty yesterdays? Mrs. Mimms however knew +better and so did every other member of the small cadre of qualified +CPO's. A good CPO, a dedicated one, could always find loopholes in the +Destiny Code. The past <i>could</i> be shaped in little ways even if the +organization <i>was</i> powerless to stop major catastrophes.</p> + +<p>At any rate orders were orders and Mrs. Mimms began to consider the +practical side of leaving Greenlawn. Packing was no problem. All CPO's +were required to be Translation Alert in half an hour if necessary, +inclusive of destroying all telltale evidence such as notes, papers, +etc. Her apparatus was in perfect working order and the rent for that +month was paid. Mrs. Mimms passed over these details quickly. She was +thinking: it was invariably the <i>priorees</i> who suffered in emergency +conversions.</p> + +<p>The case book labeled ACTIVE was open on the table. There were two +full pages alone of babysitting appointments she would have to cancel +not to speak of the more serious cases, some of which were Second and +Third Intensity. A heavy discouragement settled over Mrs. Mimms as she +sat down at the apparatus to check certain images as they came and +went on the screen. The Nortons, who hadn't been out for weeks, were +fighting again; that date would have to be canceled. The delinquent +attitude developing in the Bradley youngster was going to rob the +world of a great scientist unless Mr. Bradley's business got back on +its feet and he could spend more time with his son; Mrs. Mimms had a +simple campaign mapped out for this, but it would take time—more time +than she had left. Then there was the cocktail party the Haskells had +been planning for weeks and Frank Haskell's boss was going to be +there; Mrs. Mimms had left that date open especially because Frank's +mother who had promised to take the kids overnight was going to be +sick and they'd have to get someone to help her. And that teenage +picnic—there would be trouble unless she, and not someone else, were +chaperoning it.</p> + +<p>She dared not think of the growing list of Third Intensities. Another +Condition Twelve in the far building and one developing on the floor +directly above. Crippled old Mrs. Schaefer on the ground floor who had +tried to commit suicide before with an overdose of sleeping +tablets—and might certainly try it again if Mrs. Mimms didn't spend a +few hours with her every week. And, as usual, on every assignment +after a few months had gone by, the exhausting sleep-beaming by +Destiny apparatus of the cases where she had no direct contact. There +was the young doctor on the third floor who was becoming addicted to +his own morphine supply. The campaign against Mrs. Jamison's frigidity +which would be getting results in a few weeks. And the theft of +company funds which the middle-aged clerk in B-18 was contemplating.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was always the priorees who suffered on an incomplete +assignment. Not to speak of the Destinyworker involved. All the months +of careful work building up, an event here, a circumstance there, +only to let the delicate fabric slip back again into the impersonal +Historic Continuum. It wasn't fair, thought Mrs. Mimms. You were +suddenly transferred to another Time Zone and there was no one to +carry on. The answer from Central was always the same: NO AVAILABLE +PERSONNEL. Not even a trainee. Not even—</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Mimms remembered the young salesman. It had been a +particularly hectic day at Central. Mrs. Mimms and the Briefing +Officer were conferring in the Chief's Office when the Chief finally +pressed a buzzer in irritation and said, "He's still there? All right, +I'll see him if he can state his case in five minutes." There were +firm, tired lines around the Chief's full-lipped mouth. All day long +the Translation Rooms had smelled of over-ionized electrodes as +Destinyworkers arrived by the dozens from various Time Zones. Two +thirds of the entire Past Division was being recalled and reassigned +to a Condition 14 in the Twenty-Third—elimination of a teenage fad +which was getting out of hand in North America. The Chief had smiled +wanly as the young salesman shook hands and plunged into his sales +talk.</p> + +<p>"I know how busy you are, sir; thank you for seeing me. My firm, +Duplicanicals Unlimited, believes it has the answer to your employment +problem. Frankly, it's so simple that I'm amazed you haven't called on +us to serve you before. Briefly, our plan is this. Your Operators go +into the various Time Zones as usual and lay the preliminary +groundwork (of course Duplicanicals <i>realizes</i> there's no <i>real</i> +substitute for humanoid tactics at the outset of any case). Then," +said the young man, bringing home his point triumphantly, "when the +human Operator is needed elsewhere, a new model, low-cost Duplicanical +takes over and carries on the work. Yes, every Duplicanical purchased +from our firm can release a Destinyworker for an assignment in another +Time Zone. A few basic specifications is all that our plant needs to +duplicate any Destinyworker down to—if I may say so—the slightest +detail. In emergencies, a simple photograph will do. Our skilled +craftsmen can deliver a finished model to your offices in a matter of +hours. Android construction guaranteed throughout at rock bottom +prices. Why, a child could follow the simple instructions enclosed +with every...."</p> + +<p>But already the Chief had turned back to the map of North America; he +had smiled politely and told the salesman to leave any literature he +had with his secretary.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mimms made a decision.</p> + +<p>She picked up the telephone and dialed a number. Even before the +Resident Destinyworker had time for a greeting, Mrs. Mimms said:</p> + +<p>"George, I want to send a message to Central. Make it a flat +Priority-to-Present; there's no time to waste with a Zonal Relay +Letter. ATTENTION: CHIEF, DESTINYWORKERS, INC...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was early evening when Eighty-One (Female, Duplicanical Pat. +Pending U17809) entered the apartment and carefully set down the two +black suitcases. For an hour she had been seated on the bus which had +carried her from the address in New York out to Greenlawn. All the +while she had been smiling faintly as per Similarity Instruction 3.</p> + +<p>Eighty-One's cybertechnic brain hummed smoothly as she unpacked the +bags and set up the Destiny apparatus (Work Instruction 17). Although +she was neither cold nor hot, she removed the plain brown coat (Human +Function 55). From Eighty-One's chest there came the nearly +imperceptible ticking of her rotary stabilizer; it lessened slightly +when she sat down at the desk as the take-up tension relaxed on key +bearings.</p> + +<p>From one of the black suitcases she took a copy of <i>The +Destinyworker's Manual & Guide</i> and also a photocopy of a notebook +marked ACTIVE. She opened both books simultaneously and began to read. +Without a glance at the bed behind her, she turned the pages slowly +and uniformly until next morning when the books were finished. +Word-for-word copies of them were now lightly etched on the tape reels +behind her deftly molded Pigma-Foam forehead, and even now were being +fed into the Action-and-Motion Editor at the base of her Myoplastic +skull.</p> + +<p>Satisfied, Eighty-One raised her hand in Female Instinctive Function +14 and smoothed her graying Spun-Tex hair, feeling the hard stitching +on the scalp beneath.</p> + +<p>Then the telephone rang and Eighty-One picked it up.</p> + +<p>"This is Clair Howard in C-12, Mrs. Mimms. I'm so shamed to ask on +such short notice but I'm <i>desperate</i> for a sitter tomorrow afternoon. +Can you possibly come over?"</p> + +<p>"Why of course," answered the Duplicanical.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Amazing Mrs. Mimms, by David C. Knight + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMAZING MRS. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Amazing Mrs. Mimms + +Author: David C. Knight + +Release Date: March 10, 2010 [EBook #31585] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMAZING MRS. MIMMS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe August 1958. Extensive + research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this + publication was renewed. + + +[_"Long may the good lady serve us poor folks in the dim + past," writes the author, who will be remembered for his_ THE LOVE + OF FRANK NINETEEN _(Dec. 1957) and who feels that much of SF + "misses" because it lacks the human angle. "I believe you can have + gimmicks and human interest too," he writes._] + + + the amazing mrs. mimms + + + _by ... David C. Knight_ + + + Tea had a wonderful effect on her. Sipping it slowly, she + felt the strength returning to her tired system. + + * * * * * + + + + +There was a muffled rushing noise and the faintly acrid smell of ion +electrodes as the Time Translator deposited Mrs. Mimms back into the +year 1958. Being used to such journeys, she looked calmly about with +quick gray eyes, making little flicking gestures with her hands as if +brushing the stray minutes and seconds from her plain brown coat. + +The scene of Mrs. Mimms' arrival in the past was the rear of a large +supermarket, more specifically between two packing cases which had +once contained breakfast foods. The excursion through time had +evidently been a smooth one for the smile had not once left Mrs. +Mimms' rotund countenance during the intervening centuries. + +Two heavy black suitcases appeared to be the lady's only luggage +accompanying her from the future. These she picked up with a sharp +gasp and made her way to the front of the shopping center around which +slick new apartment buildings formed a horseshoe. + +Mrs. Mimms was, as usual, on another assignment for Destinyworkers, +Inc. + +It was early evening at the Greenlawn Apartments, a time supposedly +of contentment, yet Mrs. Mimms was quick to sense the disturbing +vibrations in the warm air. She pressed through the crowds entering +and leaving the supermarket. A faint mustache of perspiration formed +on her upper lip. No one offered to help her with the bags. With a +professional eye Mrs. Mimms noted the drawn mouths, the tense +expressions typical of the Time Zone and shook her head. Central as +usual had not been wrong; the Briefing Officer himself had cautioned +her on what poor shape the Zonal area was in. + +Jostling Mrs. Mimms on all sides were mostly young men and women +accompanied by energetic, wriggling children of varying ages. It +saddened Mrs. Mimms to see the premature lines forming in the youthful +mothers' foreheads, and the gray settling too quickly into the men's +hair. Mrs. Mimms, who considered herself not quite in the twilight of +middle age, was just 107 that month. + +Outbursts of juvenile and adult temper grated harshly in the +Destinyworker's ears. She witnessed a resounding slap and a child's +cry of pain. A young mother was shouting angrily: "Couldn't _you_ have +kept an eye on her? Do I have to watch her every minute?" + +Mrs. Mimms hurried swiftly on for there was much she had to do. Then +she stopped abruptly before a small delicatessen. She entered and gave +the clerk her order: + +"One package of Orange Pekoe Tea, if you please. Tea _leaves_, not +bags." + +There were definite advantages, thought Mrs. Mimms, in being assigned +to any century preceding the Twenty-Third. Due to the increasing use +of synthetic products in Mrs. Mimms' home-century the tea plant, among +other vegetation, had been allowed to become extinct. Ever since Mrs. +Mimms' solo assignment to Eighteenth Century England, she had grown +exceedingly fond of the beverage. + +Ten minutes later Mrs. Mimms, one of Destinyworkers' best Certified +Priority Operators, reached the Renting Office of the Greenlawn +Apartments. "I do hope the Superintendent is still on duty," panted +Mrs. Mimms, setting her bags down very carefully. "If the Research +Department is correct--and it usually is--his hours are from 9 to +6:30." + +It was one minute past 6:30 when Mrs. Mimms knocked. + +"Yeah?" boomed a disgruntled voice. "Come on in. It ain't locked." + +"Good evening," said Mrs. Mimms to a young man in work clothes seated +behind a paper-strewn desk. "I hope it's not too late for you to show +me an apartment tonight. It needn't be large. Two or three rooms will +do nicely. However, I have one stipulation." + +"We aim to please at Greenlawn, Ma'am--within reason--you understand." + +"I understand," replied the Destinyworker. "It is merely that the +apartment should, as far as possible, be located in the central part +of the building and on a middle floor--not too high or too low." + +"No problem there," said the super, consulting a board from which hung +a number of keys. "Most of 'em want just the opposite--corner +apartments, views, top floor, Southern exposure. Here's one. Partly +furnished. Young couple left for Europe. They want to sublet for the +rest of the lease." + +"I hope the rent is reasonable." + +It was. Mrs. Mimms received the news with apparent relief. Due to the +high cost of Time Translation and maintenance of workers in other +Zones, Destinyworkers, Inc., a non-profit organization, had to keep +its overhead at a minimum. + +"This will do very nicely," Mrs. Mimms announced after inspecting the +apartment. "I should like to move in at once." The superintendent then +brought up his new tenant's suitcases, commented upon their weight, +obtained Mrs. Mimms' signature on the preliminary lease and left. + +Even for younger Destinyworkers, time travel at best was an exhausting +business. The bags _had_ been heavy, and Zonal Speech Compliance was +always a strain at the outset of an assignment. Mrs. Mimms needed +refreshment. Finding a battered pot and a broken cup abandoned by the +former tenants, she heated water on the range and made herself some +hot tea. Sipping it slowly Mrs. Mimms felt the strength returning to +her tired system. + +Having eaten an early dinner in the future Mrs. Mimms was not hungry. +The tea would be sufficient until tomorrow. She washed the cup +carefully, put away the pot and then unlocked one of her black +suitcases. From it she extracted a small white card on which there was +some printing and a phone number at the bottom. Mrs. Mimms checked the +phone number with the telephone in her new apartment; they were the +same. Research was almost _never_ wrong. Mrs. Mimms then took the card +down to the main floor and attached it to a bulletin board with four +thumbtacks. The message read: + + _Mrs. Althea Mimms_ +Professional Companion & Babysitter + Rates Reasonable + +Back in her apartment, the time traveler opened the other suitcase. It +contained a batch of weird-looking apparatus which faintly resembled a +television set, although there were twice the number of dials and +knobs. To the uninitiated eye the legends under them would have been +perplexing--"Month Selector," "Reverse Day Fast-Forward," +"Weekometer," "Minute-Second Divider." To Mrs. Mimms however the +instrument was simply standard equipment for all assignments. She +placed it carefully on the desk in her living room and, one by one, +drew out the five sensitive antennae from their sockets. Mrs. Mimms +did not need to use the electrical outlet under the desk for new d-c +ion batteries had been installed whose combined guaranteed life was +five years. + +It had grown somewhat late at Greenlawn--the hands of Mrs. Mimms' +watch were nearing eleven--yet this did not deter her from flicking +the power on. She dialed to a position a few hours before on that same +evening and waited for the equipment to warm up. A roar of angry +static and strident voices suddenly filled the room until Mrs. Mimms +quickly cut the volume. The outburst was definitely an indication that +her work was cut out for her. Eyeing the red pilot indicator across +which a ribbon of names was flashing she slowly twirled the Master +Selector. Images flickered and disappeared on the screen; then +suddenly Mrs. Mimms leaned forward anxiously. A living room much like +her own came into view and in it a man and a woman faced each other +menacingly. The pilot was flashing the name Randolph, Apt. 14-B. + +Reducing the volume slightly, Mrs. Mimms listened: + +"You don't care, Bill Randolph. If you cared we could be out somewhere +right now. My God, it's Saturday night. I'll bet the Bairds and +Simmons are at a show right now. But not us. Oh, no. Honestly, I don't +think you'd stir out of that chair if it weren't for your meals and +the office." + +"You're a great one to talk," snapped the young man. "Every time we +decide to line something up you get finicky about a sitter. How many +times have we sat for Ruth Whatshername? And we're up at Ellen Fox's a +couple of nights, too. Then our kid comes down with a cold or +something and they're not good enough. No wonder we never get out." + +"Can I help it if Kenny takes after _your_ side of the family? You and +your mother are always coming down with something. He's _sensitive_. I +won't have some other woman taking care of my child when he needs my +attention. And I _won't_ have these teenage girls for Kenneth with +their boyfriends lolling all over the sofa. I wouldn't have an easy +minute while we were away. Anyway, when we _do_ get out I don't notice +you bending over backwards to get tickets for anything decent. It's +always something _you_ want to see. Those silly Marilyn Monroe movies, +for instance." + +"What's wrong with Marilyn Monroe? I wouldn't _mind_ being nagged by +_her_." + +"I see," choked the young woman, biting her lip. "Thank you very much. +Of course it's perfectly _OK_ when something is wrong with every other +meal I cook. It's _fine_ when Your Majesty doesn't like the dress I've +got on or the way I have my hair." + +Mrs. Randolph's rising voice elicited a child's cry from the rear of +the apartment. Both parents stiffened. + +"Go ahead, say it, say it was _me_ who woke him up this time," bleated +Randolph. He quickly snapped a newspaper up between himself and his +wife. + +Mrs. Mimms cut the picture and erased the name from the pilot +indicator. The case was a typical one, routine in fact; yet it was the +first one of the assignment and Mrs. Mimms was moved to expedite it. +She picked up the telephone and placed a call to nearby New York City. +The party answered promptly. + +"Althea! How nice. I didn't know you were in the Twentieth again. What +can I do for you?" + +"You can arrange some entertainment for me, George. Something good. +For two." + +Mrs. Mimms held the phone for a minute. Presently the conversation +resumed as the voice of George Kahn, Resident Destinyworker, came over +the wire. + +"Sorry to be so long, Althea, it took some managing. I've got you two +in the orchestra for 'My Fair Lady' on the 28th. That's the best of +the current crop. Nice little thing, it'll be running for another four +years of course. Ought to catch it yourself some night." + +"I'd love to, George, but I shan't have time. Not the way this +assignment's developing. You know what to do with the tickets." + +Mrs. Mimms replaced the telephone in its cradle and turned again to +the Master Selector. Among the kaleidoscope of voices and figures not +all were scenes of frustration and discontent. Yet enough of them were +so that Mrs. Mimms was seriously disturbed. Then again, the apparatus +had its indiscriminate faults: at one scene Mrs. Mimms blushed deeply +and flicked the dial to another setting. Suddenly she was surprised to +hear a familiar voice. The pilot monitor showed that it was the +apartment of the building superintendent. + +"It ain't right. You know it ain't right," the super was saying. He +was sunk deep into an overstuffed chair and there was a can of beer at +his elbow. "No wonder the kids're getting lousy report cards. The +minute they get home from school they park in front of the TV. By the +time they're ready for supper they're so excited watching Indians and +cowboys and Foreign Legion stuff they can't eat. Afterwards they are +too knocked out to do their homework." + +"Don't I know it," said his wife. "But you can't forbid them because +all the other kids are allowed to watch the same things. Adele Jones +down the hall says she has the same trouble. They tried taking Brian's +TV away and the kid put up such a fuss they gave it back just to get +some peace." + +The super took a swallow of beer and tapped one of the report cards in +disgust. + +"Look at that. Charlotte gets a 'D' in Reading. Goddam it, she's a +smart enough kid. I can't remember when's the last time I saw _either_ +of them bring a book back from the library. Hell, they're too busy +worrying about how Sergeant Prestons' going to come out." + +"You'd think they'd have more educational stuff on TV." + +"I may be only a superintendent," growled the super, "but, by God, +those kids are going to college. They're gonna have opportunities I +never had. Sometimes I got a good mind to kick a hole right through +that 21" screen." + +"Aw, Chuck, honey, take it easy. You're the best super this building +ever had. I got me a real sweet guy, even if he isn't no college +graduate." + +"I ain't no Biff Baker or Captain Video, either. Maybe if I was the +kids could watch me and we could dump the TV set." + +Mrs. Mimms dimmed the screen and recorded the problem briefly in a +notebook marked ACTIVE. This too was a common enough complaint of the +Time Zone. Mrs. Mimms rummaged about in one of the suitcases until she +produced a brightly colored box. Inside the box were a number of +objects resembling radio condensers with small metal clamps at either +end. Mrs. Mimms removed one and read the label: FILTER XC8794, +Reading. _Caution: for best results attach to TV aerial. Lasts 2 weeks +only. Destroy label before using._ + +"I _do_ hope the superintendent's set doesn't have rabbits' ears," +said Mrs. Mimms, dialing the super's apartment again to check. +"Hooking these up to a regular aerial is so much easier." The +superintendent's set luckily had an outside antenna and by +manipulating certain dials, the Destinyworker traced it out and up to +the roof. Pressing a button marked TRACER LIGHT, she left the set in +operation and made her way up to the top floor of the apartment house. +Taking the fire exit to the roof, Mrs. Mimms found herself among a +forest of TV aerials. However there was a small circle of light cast +about one of them and she went to it and attached the filter. + +Returning to her apartment, Mrs. Mimms went immediately to bed. She +would have liked a last cup of tea before retiring, but she was too +tired to fix it. + +The telephone woke the time traveler at half past ten the next +morning. She answered it sleepily. It was a young mother, Mrs. Mimms' +first customer. Could Mrs. Mimms _possibly_ come that night? The voice +sounded desperate, then relieved when Mrs. Mimms answered Yes, she +would be there. + +Remembering that she had had nothing to eat since her own century, +Mrs. Mimms hurried below to the delicatessen and purchased some Danish +pastry. She looked forward to a cup of strong tea. As she waited for +the water to boil, she switched on the apparatus and dialed once or +twice across the band. At that hour most of the apartments were +silent. Wives were attending to cleaning or washing and the children +had been sent out to play. Leaving the apparatus for a minute, Mrs. +Mimms made her tea. When she returned there was a burst of static on +the loudspeaker, then a loud childish voice and images took shape on +the screen. + +"I'm captain of this spaceship, Ronnie Smith," insisted the taller of +the two youngsters. "You gotta do like I say. We're the first guys on +this planet, see? We got cut off from the ship by the monsters and we +only got another half hour of oxygen left. We gotta shoot our way +back. Let's go, Lieutenant Smith." + +"Ah, you're always the captain," muttered Lt. Smith mutinously, though +inaudibly under his F.A.O. Schwartz plastic helmet. The two Earthlings +advanced cautiously across the parking lot in the rear of the +apartment building, mowing down the aliens like flies with their +atomic ray guns. + +"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. See me get that one, Smith?" screamed the captain +murderously. "Right in the belly, look at the guts. Ah-ah-ah-ah. Big +spiders, about twenty feet tall. There's some more. Make every shot +count, Smith. We gotta make the ship before they do." + +"I just blasted five of 'em with one shot," bragged Lt. Smith, +leveling his pistol at a particularly large alien and watching it +dissolve. + +Fighting their way desperately across the parking lot the spacemen +finally made the Smith family car in safety. "Blast off immediately, +Lt. Smith," ordered the captain. The rocket wavered for a minute and +rose. "Wait a minute, Smith. I seen Rocky Morgan do this once in a +comic book. No member of the Space Patrol lets an alien get away +alive. We got to kill 'em all. Head back and we'll get the rest of 'em +with the hydrogen artillery." Accordingly the ship swept low over the +strange planet. "Ah-ah-ah-ah." Twin sheets of imaginary flame burst +from the rocket and the remainder of the faltering spider-monsters +perished horribly. + +Shaking her head, Mrs. Mimms spun the Master Selector until the screen +went blank. An avid space traveler herself (she was especially fond of +a nice Lunar trip at vacation time), the negative implications of this +childish violence had a depressing effect on Mrs. Mimms. She noted the +incident down in her notebook and starred it for special attention. + +Like any woman in any century, Mrs. Mimms had an infallible remedy for +cheering herself up. She went shopping. By economizing on her expense +account she found it possible to afford a tiny luxury now and then. +Mrs. Mimms bought a badly needed blouse and some facial cream. She +also bought some groceries and a newspaper. After a modest meal, she +found that she had an hour before her babysitting assignment. Opening +the newspaper to the sports page, she indulged in one of the +amusements common among Certified Priority Operators. Glancing down +the list of tomorrow's daily-double she checked the names of horses +to win, place and show. Mrs. Mimms made her selections merely by the +sound of the names. She then turned a knob marked Tomorrow and dialed +about with the Master Selector until the image of a man reading a +newspaper appeared on the screen. She waited until he turned to the +sports page before seeing how she had done. She had done poorly. Only +one winner out of seven races. Of course, using the Destiny apparatus +itself for personal gain was a violation of the Direct Influencing of +Personal Fate Clause and was sufficient reason for losing her CPO +ticket. + +When Mrs. Mimms returned from babysitting it was after midnight. A cup +of tea at her elbow, she sat down before the screen. There was a party +just breaking up in the far building. Some people above her were +watching the late show on TV. A couple on her own floor were arguing +about money but the argument seemed to be nearly over and Mrs. Mimms +did not intrude further. Suddenly the pilot marked URGENT started +flashing and the blurs on the screen sharpened into a young man and +woman seated across from each other in the apartment where the party +had been. Half-finished drinks and ash trays full of stubs lay about. +Husband and wife were both slightly drunk and being very frank with +each other. + +"I don't know how we got off on _this_," remarked the man. "Whenever +George gets a couple of drinks in him he starts popping off about +politics and the fate of the world. He doesn't know a damn thing about +either." + +"Well, at least he's optimistic," the young woman said, kicking off +her shoes. + +"You can say that again! Fifty years from now, according to George, +we'll all be living in plastic houses with three helicopters in each +garage. There won't be any unemployment, we'll have a four-day week, +atomic energy'll be doing all the heavy work, mankind'll have realized +the futility of war, everything'll be just hunky-dory. Nuts! Guys like +George make me sick." + +"But good Lord, honey, if everyone felt like you there wouldn't _be_ +any world. Maybe things won't be perfect but life's got to go on." + +"Go on to what?" muttered the husband, polishing off his watery +highball. "--To a great big beautiful cloud of atomic fallout, that's +what. Don't laugh either, because everything points that way and you +know it. Sputniks and ICBMs zooming around, both sides stockpiling +like crazy, half the world scrapping as it is. It's just a question of +who tosses the first match and then blooie! Hell, Julie, it's not that +I don't _want_ another kid. It's just that I don't think it's fair to +create human life and turn it loose in this--this holocaust." + +The young woman got up and sat on the arm of his chair and stroked +his hair. "Oh Bill, honey, it's _wrong_ to think like that. Don't you +see how wrong it is?" Suddenly she wrinkled her nose at him and +whispered some words in his ear. They were in the special +baby-language which had sprung up around the first child. + +Then she said tipsily: "A baby is such a tiny thing." + +"Yeah," said her husband, "you feed them and take care of them and +watch them grow and it's swell. Just like the fatted calf. Then you +flip open the evening paper and wonder whether they'll have the good +luck to die in their beds at a ripe old age. I tell you I'm honestly +frightened of where we're going...." + + * * * * * + +There were tense little crow's feet about Mrs. Mimms' eyes as she +cleared the screen. She reached immediately for the telephone and +dialed a number. A couple of seconds later the Resident +Destinyworker's voice said, "Hello?" + +"George, this is Althea. I'm sorry to be calling so late but I have a +Condition Twelve case." + +George Kahn's voice was instantly alert. "Male?" + +"Yes, and a good Third Intensity. Here are the coordinates if you want +to rerun it yourself." Mrs. Mimms read some figures off the dials. +"I'm authorized a week's night-teleportation but I only have the +standard equipment of course. You have the Viele apparatus over there, +haven't you?" + +"Yes, but frankly, Althea, even with the Viele we're limited in what +we can do. I don't have to tell you that's getting pretty close to +Direct Influence. I tampered with it myself a couple of years ago and +got a stiff reprimand from Central." + +"But, George, this is a _Twelve_. A serious one. The files at Central +are full of Anti-Population Projectographs. All that might-have-been +talent that's lost in every Time Zone! Think what might have happened +if we hadn't interfered in the Voltaire case! Why we might even have +lost Darwin himself if Mr. Wentworth hadn't insisted on three nights +of the Viele for Darwin's parents." + +"Well, yes," admitted the Resident Destinyworker. "All right, Althea, +I'll give him a week's dream kinesis if you insist but just remember +the Sophistication Curve in the Twentieth. You'll probably have to +supplement it with some work of your own." + +"Thank you George, I will." + +"And Althea--" + +"Yes?" + +"You sound tired. Get a good night's rest. The Mid-Twentieth's a tough +Zone and the Chief would not want one of his best CPO's taking on more +than she can handle. Personally, I think you ought to ask him for a +nice soft assignment in the Future Division next trip." + +Mrs. Mimms smiled. "I'll leave the glamor to the youngsters, George, +they're much better at it. Besides," she added, "there isn't any tea +there." + +Again, Mrs. Mimms would have liked a cup, but she was much too tired +to prepare it. + + * * * * * + +Three weeks after Mrs. Mimms' arrival at the Greenlawn Apartments, the +superintendent was repairing a leaky faucet on the top floor. The +housewife watched him as he gave the nut a final twist with his wrench +and stood up. + +"Thanks for coming up and looking at it so soon, Mr. Seely," she said. +"How are Mrs. Seely and the children?" + +"Good Mrs. Dorne, real good, thanks. Especially the kids after that +new TV show came on." + +"Oh?" said Mrs. Dorne. "Which one is that?" + +"It ain't on no more," said the super, "but, boy, while it lasted the +kids sure got a kick out of it. That little Charlotte of mine, she's +going to be a real egghead." + +"Well what kind of a show was it?" + +"Reading," said the super. "Just reading. I ain't sure what they +called it, but I know there wasn't no sponsor. Maybe that's why it +lasted only two weeks or so. Some kind of test show I guess it was." + +"I guess we missed it listening to something else. What channel was it +on?" + +"Now that you mention it I'm darned if I remember," Chuck Seely said. +"The kids just come home from school one night and parked in front of +the TV like always and instead of the westerns and like that here's +this guy, just reading. It lasted about an hour every night, we +couldn't drag the kids away. Me and the wife got in the habit watching +it too." + +"Was it Charles Laughton? He has a reading program." + +"It wasn't him. I never saw the guy before, but what a voice! No +commercials, no scenery, no nothin' except this guy reading. Something +different every night, too. Stuff like Dickens and famous writers like +that. I never heard a voice like this guy had, you couldn't stop +listening. Then you know what he'd do at the end of the show?" + +"What?" + +"He'd tell the kids to go get a pencil and write down the names of +more books to get at the library. And you know what? The kids _do_ it. +That Charlotte, the other night she brings home some Shakespeare +stories for kids by a guy named Lamb. She makes me read 'em to her, +too. Get a load o' me reading Shakespeare. I got to admit they're +pretty good stories. That Charlotte's going to be a real egghead." + +"We usually have our TV on around supper time. It's funny we missed +it." + +"I checked TV Guide but it was not listed," said the super. "It was +some kind of test show. I guess this guy couldn't find a sponsor." + + * * * * * + +A week after this incident Betty Randolph picked up the telephone and +said, "Hello?" It was Dot on the ground floor. Ed had phoned earlier +and said he'd be a little late. Betty felt relaxed and just in the +mood for some woman talk. + +"Dot, you'll never guess where we were last night," she said. "We saw +My Fair Lady, imagine! Don't you envy me?" + +There was a gasp at the other end of the line. "Betty Randolph, you +didn't! We've been on the waiting list for six months. Where in the +world did you get tickets?" + +"That's the weird part of it. A messenger just delivered them to Ed in +the office one morning. They were in a plain envelope marked 'Mr. +Randolph' and a card inside said 'Hope you enjoy them--George.' Ed +thinks the messenger made a mistake and got the wrong building or +something because Ed's the only Randolph there. Anyway, by the time Ed +opened the envelope the messenger was gone. There wasn't anything to +do but use the tickets of course." + +"Of all the luck! Maybe you and Ed've got a fairy Godmother or +something. What'd you do for a sitter?" + +"Oh, we were nearly insane finding one. Jane and Tina were busy and we +knew you were away for the weekend. Fortunately we phoned this Mrs. +Mimms and she was available. Kenneth _loved_ her." + +"Isn't she _nice_? That woman's a wonder with children. Dicky and Sue +are as good as gold when she's around and she always seems to be free +when you want her. She's so cheap, too, I don't see how the woman +lives." + +"Glory we had a good time!" sighed Betty. "We had drinks and filet +mignon at a nice little place near the theater and forgot all about +kids for a while. It was like going on a date again. I had on my +red-and-gold dress I haven't worn for months and Ed kept telling me +how cute I looked...." + + * * * * * + +"Zoom, zoom," the captain kept saying. The spaceship swooped in for a +landing on the crimson Martian sands. Captain Bobby Taylor took up a +position before the air-lock and briefed his second-in-command, Ronnie +Smith. "We're surrounded by enemy aliens, Smith," announced Captain +Taylor. "Better break out the death-ray pistols. Our mission is to +destroy every metal monster on this planet. Look at 'em come! They got +eight legs and sixteen wire arms...." + +"Ah, cut it out, Bobby. I ain't playing science-fiction with you any +more. It ain't like you say at all." + +"What's it like then, wise guy? I suppose _you_ been to Mars." + +"Maybe I ain't," said Lt. Smith. "Anyways I know somebody that _has_." + +"Yeah? Who?" + +"Mrs. Mimms. She babysits with me when Mom and Dad go out. She's been +all over in space. Venus and all them other planets. She says there +ain't any monsters on any of 'em. There ain't _nuthin_ on Mars except +a little bitty grass and a lot of scientists from Earth." + +"Mad scientists?" asked Captain Taylor hopefully. + +"Nah, just scientists. She says we oughta forget about monsters and +play the right way. You know, like with atomic reactors and radar +communication and growing new kinds of food for Earth colonies." + +"Ah I don't believe it. She'd hafta be from someplace in the future. +She'd hafta come here by time machine or something, wouldn't she?" + +"That's what she did," Lt. Smith informed the captain. "She showed me +pictures to prove it. Pictures of her last vacation on the moon. You +oughta see what they done to the place. She's from the future, all +right." + +"Then she ain't supposed to tell anybody about it, is she?" + +Lt. Smith waved his hand airily. "She says it's OK to tell kids +because grownups wouldn't believe it anyway. Get your mother to let +her sit for you next time. She'll show you the pictures if you ask +her. Heck, it's no fun playing monsters now." + +"Well, look," said Captain Taylor magnanimously, "supposing I let you +be Captain today. You can pretend any kind of stuff you want." + +"OK," said the new Captain, and immediately postulated a gigantic +atomic reactor on the planet Pluto. + + * * * * * + +The doctor had said Julie should not, but she had another cup of +coffee anyway. She drank it and then lit a cigarette. Immediately she +felt a twinge of the morning sickness and wisely snubbed it out in the +ashtray. She was so happy it almost didn't hurt at all. I'm pregnant +again, she thought, that's the important thing. Julie hugged herself +and thought again of Mrs. Mimms and her tea leaves. It was the +silliest thing, she told herself, you didn't base important decisions +on tea leaves. Not _tea_ leaves. It was right after the week Bill had +been having those queer dreams that they'd decided, well, to go ahead. +Julie remembered Bill's face as he sat on the edge of her bed +describing one of the dreams to her as she laid there. + +"It was vivid as hell, honey," Bill had said. "Maybe I ought to give +up eating cheese sandwiches at night or something. It's like dreaming +on the installment plan. Every time I'm someplace different and some +guy in a weird suit is showing me around. Last night I could swear it +was somewhere in New York, only the buildings were a lot taller and +there were kind of triple-decker ramp things with nutty-looking cars +on them and the people all wore tight-fitting clothes. Then all of a +sudden we were down on what looked like the Battery and the guy showed +me a big cookie-shaped thing out in the harbor with planes that looked +like flying saucers landing and taking off from it. Hell, maybe it's +going to be George Humphry's kind of world after all a couple of +hundred years from now." + + * * * * * + +Then a night or two later they'd gone out to a movie. She'd been lucky +to get Mrs. Mimms to sit with Georgie. After they got back Mrs. Mimms +had made some tea--_real_ tea she'd brought from her own apartment. +When she offered to tell their fortunes in the leaves, Julie began to +giggle ... until she saw Bill was taking it perfectly seriously. Maybe +it was the quiet way Mrs. Mimms had discussed their futures over the +brown leaves, as if she'd been there herself. Funny old duck. +Wonderful with Georgie, though; and the other girls swore by her. Bill +hadn't batted an eye when she predicted it would be a girl this time, +and perfectly healthy and all right. + +Julie peeked into the bedroom where Georgie was sleeping and pulled +the blanket up under his chin. "According to Mrs. Mimms, my lad, +you'll be getting a baby sister soon," she whispered. Bill _had_ +changed lately. Not so gloomy somehow, nicer. But _tea_ leaves, for +Heaven's sake, they couldn't have anything to do with.... + +She stopped trying to figure it out because the nausea returned. This +time it was bad and she had to run for the bathroom. + + * * * * * + +The crisp directive--Zonally disguised as a contemporary telegram--was +forwarded to Mrs. Mimms on a Monday night. Although it bore the +Resident Destinyworker's address, it had come of course directly from +the Chief's office for the code word DESTWORK headed the message. +Decoded, it read: + + URGENT YOU CLOSE OUT PRESENT ASSIGNMENT IN DAY OR TWO. + CONDITION 16 IN 22ND CENTURY APPROACHING CRISIS. IMPORTANT + ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL BE CONCENTRATED. PICK-UP AT POINT OF + ENTRY ACCORDING TO PROCEDURE. BRIEFING TO COME FROM KEY + RESIDENTS. ALL VACATIONS AND LEAVES-OF-ABSENCE HEREWITH + CANCELLED. + +Mrs. Mimms sighed. It was always this way she reflected. Central was +perpetually short of experienced help. The younger Destinyworkers, +fresh from the colleges, always wanted to traipse off into the future +where nothing practical ever got done. Oh, they argued, you could +always read about the past if you wanted to and, anyway, since Direct +Influence on Historic Continuum was strictly forbidden, what was the +good of wandering around in musty yesterdays? Mrs. Mimms however knew +better and so did every other member of the small cadre of qualified +CPO's. A good CPO, a dedicated one, could always find loopholes in the +Destiny Code. The past _could_ be shaped in little ways even if the +organization _was_ powerless to stop major catastrophes. + +At any rate orders were orders and Mrs. Mimms began to consider the +practical side of leaving Greenlawn. Packing was no problem. All CPO's +were required to be Translation Alert in half an hour if necessary, +inclusive of destroying all telltale evidence such as notes, papers, +etc. Her apparatus was in perfect working order and the rent for that +month was paid. Mrs. Mimms passed over these details quickly. She was +thinking: it was invariably the _priorees_ who suffered in emergency +conversions. + +The case book labeled ACTIVE was open on the table. There were two +full pages alone of babysitting appointments she would have to cancel +not to speak of the more serious cases, some of which were Second and +Third Intensity. A heavy discouragement settled over Mrs. Mimms as she +sat down at the apparatus to check certain images as they came and +went on the screen. The Nortons, who hadn't been out for weeks, were +fighting again; that date would have to be canceled. The delinquent +attitude developing in the Bradley youngster was going to rob the +world of a great scientist unless Mr. Bradley's business got back on +its feet and he could spend more time with his son; Mrs. Mimms had a +simple campaign mapped out for this, but it would take time--more time +than she had left. Then there was the cocktail party the Haskells had +been planning for weeks and Frank Haskell's boss was going to be +there; Mrs. Mimms had left that date open especially because Frank's +mother who had promised to take the kids overnight was going to be +sick and they'd have to get someone to help her. And that teenage +picnic--there would be trouble unless she, and not someone else, were +chaperoning it. + +She dared not think of the growing list of Third Intensities. Another +Condition Twelve in the far building and one developing on the floor +directly above. Crippled old Mrs. Schaefer on the ground floor who had +tried to commit suicide before with an overdose of sleeping +tablets--and might certainly try it again if Mrs. Mimms didn't spend a +few hours with her every week. And, as usual, on every assignment +after a few months had gone by, the exhausting sleep-beaming by +Destiny apparatus of the cases where she had no direct contact. There +was the young doctor on the third floor who was becoming addicted to +his own morphine supply. The campaign against Mrs. Jamison's frigidity +which would be getting results in a few weeks. And the theft of +company funds which the middle-aged clerk in B-18 was contemplating. + +Yes, it was always the priorees who suffered on an incomplete +assignment. Not to speak of the Destinyworker involved. All the months +of careful work building up, an event here, a circumstance there, +only to let the delicate fabric slip back again into the impersonal +Historic Continuum. It wasn't fair, thought Mrs. Mimms. You were +suddenly transferred to another Time Zone and there was no one to +carry on. The answer from Central was always the same: NO AVAILABLE +PERSONNEL. Not even a trainee. Not even-- + +Then Mrs. Mimms remembered the young salesman. It had been a +particularly hectic day at Central. Mrs. Mimms and the Briefing +Officer were conferring in the Chief's Office when the Chief finally +pressed a buzzer in irritation and said, "He's still there? All right, +I'll see him if he can state his case in five minutes." There were +firm, tired lines around the Chief's full-lipped mouth. All day long +the Translation Rooms had smelled of over-ionized electrodes as +Destinyworkers arrived by the dozens from various Time Zones. Two +thirds of the entire Past Division was being recalled and reassigned +to a Condition 14 in the Twenty-Third--elimination of a teenage fad +which was getting out of hand in North America. The Chief had smiled +wanly as the young salesman shook hands and plunged into his sales +talk. + +"I know how busy you are, sir; thank you for seeing me. My firm, +Duplicanicals Unlimited, believes it has the answer to your employment +problem. Frankly, it's so simple that I'm amazed you haven't called on +us to serve you before. Briefly, our plan is this. Your Operators go +into the various Time Zones as usual and lay the preliminary +groundwork (of course Duplicanicals _realizes_ there's no _real_ +substitute for humanoid tactics at the outset of any case). Then," +said the young man, bringing home his point triumphantly, "when the +human Operator is needed elsewhere, a new model, low-cost Duplicanical +takes over and carries on the work. Yes, every Duplicanical purchased +from our firm can release a Destinyworker for an assignment in another +Time Zone. A few basic specifications is all that our plant needs to +duplicate any Destinyworker down to--if I may say so--the slightest +detail. In emergencies, a simple photograph will do. Our skilled +craftsmen can deliver a finished model to your offices in a matter of +hours. Android construction guaranteed throughout at rock bottom +prices. Why, a child could follow the simple instructions enclosed +with every...." + +But already the Chief had turned back to the map of North America; he +had smiled politely and told the salesman to leave any literature he +had with his secretary. + +Mrs. Mimms made a decision. + +She picked up the telephone and dialed a number. Even before the +Resident Destinyworker had time for a greeting, Mrs. Mimms said: + +"George, I want to send a message to Central. Make it a flat +Priority-to-Present; there's no time to waste with a Zonal Relay +Letter. ATTENTION: CHIEF, DESTINYWORKERS, INC...." + + * * * * * + +It was early evening when Eighty-One (Female, Duplicanical Pat. +Pending U17809) entered the apartment and carefully set down the two +black suitcases. For an hour she had been seated on the bus which had +carried her from the address in New York out to Greenlawn. All the +while she had been smiling faintly as per Similarity Instruction 3. + +Eighty-One's cybertechnic brain hummed smoothly as she unpacked the +bags and set up the Destiny apparatus (Work Instruction 17). Although +she was neither cold nor hot, she removed the plain brown coat (Human +Function 55). From Eighty-One's chest there came the nearly +imperceptible ticking of her rotary stabilizer; it lessened slightly +when she sat down at the desk as the take-up tension relaxed on key +bearings. + +From one of the black suitcases she took a copy of _The +Destinyworker's Manual & Guide_ and also a photocopy of a notebook +marked ACTIVE. She opened both books simultaneously and began to read. +Without a glance at the bed behind her, she turned the pages slowly +and uniformly until next morning when the books were finished. +Word-for-word copies of them were now lightly etched on the tape reels +behind her deftly molded Pigma-Foam forehead, and even now were being +fed into the Action-and-Motion Editor at the base of her Myoplastic +skull. + +Satisfied, Eighty-One raised her hand in Female Instinctive Function +14 and smoothed her graying Spun-Tex hair, feeling the hard stitching +on the scalp beneath. + +Then the telephone rang and Eighty-One picked it up. + +"This is Clair Howard in C-12, Mrs. Mimms. I'm so shamed to ask on +such short notice but I'm _desperate_ for a sitter tomorrow afternoon. +Can you possibly come over?" + +"Why of course," answered the Duplicanical. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Amazing Mrs. Mimms, by David C. 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