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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/31897-h.zip b/31897-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..17b06e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/31897-h.zip diff --git a/31897-h/31897-h.htm b/31897-h/31897-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4451d46 --- /dev/null +++ b/31897-h/31897-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3533 @@ +<!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 You Don't Make Wine Like the Greeks Did, by David E. Fisher + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.hd1,.hd2,.figr {text-align: center;} + h2 {font-weight: normal;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figr {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 369px;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 140px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .sp1 {font-size: 125%;} + .bk1 {margin: 0 auto 2em; width: 20em;} + .hd1 {margin-bottom: 2em;} + .hd2 {margin-top: 2em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of You Don't Make Wine Like the Greeks Did, by +David E. Fisher + +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: You Don't Make Wine Like the Greeks Did + +Author: David E. Fisher + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: April 6, 2010 [EBook #31897] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU DON'T MAKE WINE LIKE GREEKS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><p><i><b><big>"Every century has its advantages and its +drawbacks," he said. "We, for instance, +have bred out sexual desire. +And, as for you people ..."</big></b></i></p></div> + +<h1><span class="sp1">YOU DON'T MAKE WINE<br /> +LIKE THE GREEKS DID</span></h1> + +<h2>By DAVID E. FISHER</h2> + +<p class="hd1">ILLUSTRATED by SUMMERS</p> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">On the</span> sixty-third floor of +the Empire State Building +is, among others of its +type, a rather small office consisting +of two rooms connected +by a stout wooden door. +The room into which the office +door, which is of opaque glass, +opens, is the smaller of the +two and serves to house a receptionist, +three not-too-comfortable +armchairs, and a disorderly, +homogeneous mixture +of <i>Life's</i>, <i>Look's</i> and <i>New +Yorker's</i>.</p> + +<div class="figr"><img src="images/002.png" width="369" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +Donald was determined to make Mimi go back to +their world—dead or alive!</div> + +<p>The receptionist is a young +woman, half-heartedly pretty +but certainly chic in the manner +of New York's women in +general and of its working +women in particular, perhaps +in her middle twenties, with a +paucity of golden hair which +is kept clinging rather back +on her skull by an intricate +network of tortoise-shell +combs and invisible pins. She +is engaged to a man who is in +turn engaged in a position for +an advertising firm just +thirty-seven stories directly +below her. Her name is Margaret. +She often, in periods when +the immediate consummation +of the work on her desk is not +of paramount importance, as +is often the case, gazes somnolently +at the floor beside her +large walnut desk, hoping to +catch a lurking image of her +beloved only thirty-seven stories +away. She rarely succeeds +in viewing him through +the intervening spaces, but +she does not tire of trying; it +is a pleasant enough diversion. +There is an electronics +firm just five stories above her +fiance, and perhaps, she reasons, +there is interference of +a sort here. Someday maybe +she will catch them with all +their tubes off. Margaret is a +romantic, but she is engaged +and thus is entitled.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Beyond the entrance that is +guarded by the stout wooden +door is a larger room, darker, +quieter, one step more removed +from the hurrying hallway. +A massive but neat desk is +placed before the one set of +windows, the blinds of which +are kept closed but tilted toward +the sky so that an aura +of pale light is continually +seeping through. The main illumination +comes from several +lamps placed in strategic +corners, their bulbs turned +away from the occupants of +the room.</p> + +<p>To one side of the desk is a +comfortable-looking deep +chair, with leather arms and +a back quite high enough to +support one's head. In front +of this is the traditional +couch, armless but well-upholstered +and comfortable. At +the moment Dr. Victor Quink +was sitting not in the deep +chair but in the swivel chair +behind the desk. His glasses +were lying on the desk next to +his feet, the chair was pushed +back as far as it might safely +be, his arms were stretched +out to their extremity, and his +mouth was straining open, as +if to split his cheeks. Dr. +Quink was yawning.</p> + +<p>His method of quick relaxation +was that of the blank +mind; he was at this very moment +forcibly evicting all +vestiges of thought from his +head; he was concentrating intently +on black, on depth, on +absolute silence. He was able +to maintain this discipline for +perhaps a second, or a second +and a half at most, and then +his mind began, imperceptibly +at the first, to slip off +along a path of its own liking, +leading Dr. Quink quietly and +unprotestingly along. The +path is narrow, crinkly, bending +back upon itself. It is not +a path for vehicles, but one +worn by a single pair of boots, +plodding patiently, slowly, +wearily. The path runs, or +creeps, through a wild and +desolate district where hardly +more than a single blade of +grass shoots up at random +from the bottomless drift-sand. +Instead of the garden +that normally embellishes a +castle (there is in the vague +distance a blurred castle), the +fortified walls are approached +on the landward side by a +scant forest of firs, on the +other by the snow-swept Baltic +Sea. Spanish moss hangs +limply from the evergrays, +disdainful of the sun and of +its reflection by sea; the scene +is somber and restful, serene, +and flat.</p> + +<p>The buzzer rang once, +twice.</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink brought his feet +down to their more dignified +position, out of sight beneath +his desk. His conscious once +more took hold of his mind, +only vaguely aware that it +had not been able to achieve +the incognito serenity it +sought. He put on his glasses +and the heavy wooden door +opened and a man walked +through.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He carried his hat in both +hands, he was nervous, he was +out of his element. He looked +to both sides as he came past +the doorway, and when Margaret +closed the door behind +him he jumped, though nearly +imperceptibly, and advanced +toward the desk. "I'm not sure +at all I should have come +here," he said.</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink nodded, but said +nothing. He judged the man +to be on the order of thirty or +thirty-one. His hair was black, +curly, and sparse; perhaps +balding, perhaps not.</p> + +<p>"You see, I can't be quite +candid with you. Nothing personal, +of course. It just ... +Oh, this is frightfully embarrassing," +he said, taking a +seat before the desk at Dr. +Quink's waved invitation. "I +just thought that perhaps, +even without knowing all the +details, you might be able to +effect merely a <i>tempo</i>rary +cure. So that I can get her +back home, to our <i>own</i> doctors. +Nothing personal, of +course. I do hope I don't offend +you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, I assure you," +Dr. Quink assured him. "Just +whom did you mean by her?"</p> + +<p>"Why, my wife." He looked +at Quink quizzically for a moment, +then with sudden fresh +embarrassment. "Oh, of +course. You naturally assume +that it was <i>I</i> who is ... um, +in need of treatment. No, no, +you couldn't be more wrong. +No, it is my wife. Yes, I've +come to see you on her account. +You see, of course, she +wouldn't come herself. Ah, +this is rather awkward, I'm +afraid."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Quink answered. +"If you would just tell me +what your wife's trouble is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. You have +to know that, at least, don't +you? I mean, do you? You +couldn't possibly just treat +her on general principles, so +to speak, without being told of +the immediate symptoms? +You don't, I take it, have any +technique that would correspond +to penicillin, and just +sort of clear things up in her +head at random?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink assured him that +it was necessary, in psychiatry +at least, to determine the +disease before curing it.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," the gentleman +said. "Incidentally, my +name is Fairfield. Donald +Fairfield. Did I mention that? +But of course, you have all +that on your little card there, +don't you? Yes, I thought so. +I do hope your secretary's +handwriting is legible, it +doesn't seem so from this angle. +By the way, did you know +that she is prone to staring at +the floor? A spot right next to +her desk. The right-hand side. +I think I never should have +come here."</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink reassured him +that he was free to leave at +any moment, never to return. +By a longish glance at the +wall clock, in fact, Dr. Quink +gave him to understand that +he might do so with no hard +feelings left behind. Mr. Fairfield, +however, gathered his +resources and plunged forward.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I think you'll find this a +rather interesting case, Doctor. +Most unusual. Of course, +I have little notion of the variety +of situations one comes +into contact with in your line +of work, still I have every +reason to believe this will +come as a bit of a shock. I +wonder just how dogmatic +you are in your convictions?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink raised his eyebrows +and made no answer; +he was desperately stifling a +yawn.</p> + +<p>"I mean no intrusion on +your religious life, by any +means. Not at all. No, that is +the furthest thought from my +mind, I assure you. No, I am +concerned at the moment with +my wife's problems, meaning +no disrespect to yourself at +all, sir. I merely asked, not +out of idle curiosity, but because +... Doctor, I suppose +there's no way for it but to +explain." He gestured with +his hat toward the desk calendar +between him and Quink. +"This is the year 1959, correct? +Well, you see, sir, the +fact of the matter is that I +just wasn't <i>born</i> in 1959."</p> + +<p>He stopped there, and the +room relapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink looked at him for +a few moments, but no explanatory +statement was +forthcoming. Dr. Quink removed +his eyeglasses, opened +his left drawer two from the +top, removed a white wiper, +and wiped his glasses carefully. +Mr. Fairfield waited patiently. +Dr. Quink replaced +the glasses. He leaned forward +across the desk.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fairfield," he said, +"this may come as some shock +to you, but <i>I</i> wasn't born this +year either."</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," +Mr. Fairfield wailed. "Oh, I +just <i>knew</i> I shouldn't have +come. When I say I wasn't +<i>born</i>—"</p> + +<p>He stopped, at a loss to explain. +He wrung his hat in his +hands until it was crumpled +probably beyond repair. Then +he jumped up, pushed it onto +his head, and quickly walked +out of the office. As his back +disappeared from the doorway +Margaret's head poked +up in its place. She looked +quite startled.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Margaret," +Victor Quink said. "He was +just a bit upset. You get all +kinds in here. This one claimed +there's something abnormal +with his <i>wife</i>. Better +leave an hour free tomorrow. +He'll come back."</p> + +<p>But he didn't.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He didn't come back during +the following three weeks, +then one afternoon Margaret +ushered him through the +doorway. He walked to the +chair before the desk, looking +neither at the doctor nor to +the right nor left, and sat +down, holding his hat in his +hands.</p> + +<p>"My wife believes she's +just," he waved his hat vaguely +toward the shielded window, +"just like everybody else +here."</p> + +<p>"And isn't she?" Doctor +Quink queried, with the patience +due his profession.</p> + +<p>"No, she isn't. But she's +forgotten. She hasn't <i>really</i> +forgotten. I don't know your +technical terminology; she refuses +to remember. Oh, <i>you</i> +know. Her subconscious, or +unconscious, or whatever, is +blinding her. She won't face +reality. And it's time for us to +go back. But she won't budge. +She claims she's normal, and +I'm the one who's crazy. In +fact, she was very happy that +I was coming to see you today. +I <i>told</i> her I was going to see +you, but she persisted in insisting +that I was coming here +because <i>I</i> needed help. She +said I'm coming to you because +subconsciously I know I +need you. Well, enough of +that. I'm here because we +have to go home, and if you +could just make her face life +long enough to admit that, I'm +sure that when we do get +home our doctors will have no +difficulty with her case. It +won't be so bizarre to them, of +course, as it must seem to +you."</p> + +<p>"Frankly, Mr. Fairfield," +Dr. Quink said, "you're not +being entirely clear in this +matter. First of all, you say +you have to go home. You're +not a native of New York +then?"</p> + +<p>"A native? How quaintly +you put it, Doctor. You might +better say a savage, mightn't +you? But that's neither here +nor there. I am, of course, a +native, as you say, of New +York. I thought I explained +last time. I am simply not of +this <i>time</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Doctor Quink slowly shook +his shaggy head. "I'm afraid +the precise meaning of your +phrase escapes me, Mr. Fairfield."</p> + +<p>"I am not of this <i>time</i>, Doctor. +Nor is my wife. We are +from ... well, from the future."</p> + +<p>"From very <i>far</i> in the future?" +Quink asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Quite far. I'm not sure +just exactly <i>how</i> far. Systems +of time measurement have +changed, you understand, between +our time and this, so +that the calculations become +rather involved, though, of +course, only superficially."</p> + +<p>"Of course. Quite understandable."</p> + +<p>"Quite. You <i>are</i> being understanding +about this. Much +better than I had hoped for, +actually. At any rate, let's get +on with it. For some obscure +reason my wife has fled reality, +and now that our vacation +is up she refuses to return +with me, stating flatly that +she has never, to make a long +story short, traveled through +time—except, of course, at the +normal velocity with which +we all progress in the course +of things—and that it is I who +am out of my head and +though, while not actually +troublesome, it would be +thoughtful of me to see a doctor +or at least to shut up about +this nonsense before the neighbors +hear me. Could you see +her tomorrow evening? She'd +never come here, feeling as +she does, but I thought if you +would come to dinner you +might hypnotize her unawares +or—"</p> + +<p>"I don't think that's feasible +under the circum—"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it really? I'm afraid +I don't know much about this +sort of thing. I'm quite helpless +in this affair, really. I assure +you I was driven to desperation +to tell you all this; I +mean, you must understand +that absolute silence, secrecy, +that is, is our most absolute +sacred rule. Perhaps you could +just slip something into her +drink, knock her out, so to +speak, and I could then bodily +take her back—"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fairfield," Dr. Quink +felt it necessary to interrupt, +"you must understand that it +would not be ethical for me to +do as you suggest. Now it +seems to me that the essence +of your wife's peculiarity lies +in her relationship with you, +her husband. So if you don't +mind, perhaps we might talk +about you for a while. It +might be more comfortable +for you on the couch. Please, +it doesn't obligate you in any +way. Yes, that's much better, +isn't it. And I'll sit here, if I +may. Now, then, go on, just +tell me all about yourself. Go +on just start talking. You'll +find it'll come by itself after +you get started."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I suppose I asked for this. +I mean, coming here as I did. +I don't know what else I could +have done, though. They prepare +one for every emergency, +as well, of course, as one can +foresee the future, which is +in this case actually the +past, speaking chronologically. +Your chronology, that is, +not ours. I'm sure you follow +me, though it seems to me I'm +talking in circles. Are we accomplishing +very much, do +you think?"</p> + +<p>"We mustn't be impatient," +Dr. Quink said. "These things +come slowly, they take time, if +you'll pardon the expression. +But of course, it's impudent +of <i>me</i> to lecture <i>you</i> on temporal +effects."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, not at all, I assure +you. I am no expert on +the time continuum, no expert +in the slightest. I daresay I +don't understand the most +basic principles behind it, just +as you aren't required to understand +electromagnetic theory +in order to flick on the +electric light. In fact, I believe +it wasn't even necessary for +Edison to understand it in +order to invent the damned +thing."</p> + +<p>"You know about Edison +then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly. I've studied +up quite a bit on this section +of our history."</p> + +<p>"You're sure," Dr. Quink +went on, "that you simply +didn't learn about Edison in +grammar school?"</p> + +<p>"Quite. Oh, yes, quite. No +offense meant, sir, but you +must certainly realize that between +my time and this there +have been a great many discoveries +in the manifold fields +embraced by science, so that +people who in your own time +were famous to schoolchildren +are now, then, that is,—oh, I +hope you know what I mean—known +only to scholars of the +period involved. In the time to +which I belong the schoolchildren +may know of Newton, +Einstein and Fisher, but +of such lesser luminaries as +Edison, or even Avogadro or +Galdeen, they are quite ignorant."</p> + +<p>"Galdeen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Galdeen. Surely you +know of Galdeen. Perhaps I'm +mispronouncing it. Oh, damn. +I'm actually rather proud of +my knowledge of your histories, +I hate to be tripped up +on something like this. Galineed, +perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's not worth bothering +about."</p> + +<p>"Damned annoying, just +the same. It's on the tip of my +tongue. Galeel?"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind very +much if we went on to some +other subject? I don't think +we're gaining much right +here."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"You're the doctor, you +know," Fairfield replied. "I +was just explaining how I +knew about Edison, though +I never attended grammar +school in this century. So, +then, where were we? You +asked me to tell you about myself, +didn't you? You know, +I'd much rather you told me +about yourself." Fairfield suddenly +sat upright on the +couch, drew his legs up to his +chest, crossed his ankles, and +hugged his knees. "I was noticing +that picture you have +hanging on the wall," he said. +"The sea, la mer, das Weltmeer, +te misralub, et cetera. +The roaring, crashing waves, +the bubbling, foaming spray. +The deep dank mystery of the +green wet sea. Marvelous, +marvelous. Do you indulge in +sex? I mean you, personally, +of course, not as a representative +of your species."</p> + +<p>Victor Quink laid down his +pad in his lap. "I'm not married, +Mr. Fairfield," he said. +"Do you often ask such questions +of people you've recently +met?"</p> + +<p>"The sun came up this +morning, Dr. Quink," Fairfield +answered jovially, "the +sun came up. You'll pardon my +answer, of course, I was merely +trying to top your own non +sequitur. Many of your people +do indulge, you know. In fact, +it would seem, from my own +necessarily limited observations, +that it is more universal +in its appeal than any of your +other sports. Do you classify +it as a sport? It's amazing, +really, how these simple connections +escape one until one +tries to formulate one's recollections +into a consistent line +of reasoning. Have you ever +noticed? Of course, though, +you do it for procreation, +don't you? <i>Now</i> I mean you as +a representative of your species, +naturally. Seeing as you +are not married, eh, doctor," +and he winked at Quink. "It +seems to me, however, and +again I insist that I am no expert +in the field, however it +does seem to me that this matter +of procreation is in many +cases just an excuse; there +seems to be an inherent taste +for mating per se, or wouldn't +you agree?"</p> + +<p>"You seem to take a disinterested +view of the whole +business, Mr. Fairfield. Do +<i>you</i>, ah, indulge?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. +I couldn't, thank you just the +same. I'm really flattered, believe +me I am, but thank you, +no."</p> + +<p>"That was <i>not</i> an invitation, +Mr. Fairfield," Dr. +Quink put in, "I was trying +to—"</p> + +<p>"Galui?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fairfield, I was trying +to ascertain whether or not +you lead an active sex life, or +whether your interest is purely, +shall we say, metaphysical?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, let's do say metaphysical. +Rather clever of you, +applying the term to sex that +way. My estimation of your +capabilities shoots up a notch +or two, Dr. Quink."</p> + +<p>"You mean to say," Dr. +Quink kept up, "that you do +not participate in the physical +ramifications?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you <i>do</i> have a turn for +words, Doctor. No, of course +not. None of us do."</p> + +<p>"By <i>us</i> you mean your cohorts +in the future?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. You have an analytical +mind, keen, keen. We +do not die, we do not give +birth. And I never would have +brought the whole morbid +subject up except that it has +a direct bearing on Mimi's +trouble. So it is necessary that +you realize that sex is entirely +foreign to us."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Dr. Quink, "if +what you say is true, your +physical, let us say, equipment, +must have degenerated. +And so a simple physical examination—"</p> + +<p>"Evolution is slow, my doctor, +slow, slow, slow. No, I'm +physically indistinguishable +from you. Assuming normalcy +on your part, of course. To +continue along this train of +thought, though, it is the mental +process that provides the +difference. There is no desire +in me or mine, Doctor, no +urge, no depravity, no sexual +hunger. It simply died out +over the eons."</p> + +<p>"Since it was no longer +necessary," Quink prodded +him.</p> + +<p>"Or vice versa. With the +urge dying, it might have +been necessary for us to circumvent +the entire business. +An academic question, really. +The chicken or the egg all +over again. But since we have +conquered time, so to speak, it +must have occurred to you +that there is no need for us to +die, and thus no need for +birth."</p> + +<p>"You are immortal, then," +Dr. Quink said, scribbling in +his note pad.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfield shrugged. "It +beats sex. Which brings us to +the problem we are discussing, +if we can forget myself +for a few moments. Mimi +seems to have been awakened +to the sexual urge, and that +provides an embarrassing situation. +Of course, its real significance +is in relation to her +problem as a whole, in the illumination +it sheds upon her +neurosis, yet in itself it is, as +I say, embarrassing. Coupled +with my complete indifference, +I mean. Have you any +plans for this evening? Perhaps +you could dine with us +without delay?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Dr. Quink would not ordinarily +have accepted such an +invitation, being of that class +of physician which believes a +disease, be it physical or mental, +best treated in the antiseptic +confines of the office or +hospital. Mr. Fairfield, however, +struck him as being the +altogether unprepossessing +possessor of an altogether distinguished +psychosis. He was, +in fact, rapidly supplanting +in Dr. Quink's estimation his +previous favorite. Already +Dr. Quink was writing, mentally +of course, the introduction +to the paper he would +present to his professional +journal.</p> + +<p>Throughout the automobile +ride out to Long Island Donald +Fairfield was quiet as, +both hands tightly on the +steering wheel of his new +Buick, he alternately fought +and coasted with the east-bound +traffic. Dr. Quink forced +himself to relax, to ignore the +ins and outs of the commuters' +raceway. He folded his +arms across his chest, slumped +down in his seat with his +legs stretched out as far as +they would reach, and observed +the facial contortions of +his driver-patient.</p> + +<p>Fairfield's lips would twitch +as he twisted the wheel and +shot into the left lane. His +foot pressed down on the gas +and the right corner of his +lip pulled back in sneering response, +the sudden surge of +the Buick seemed intimately +linked to one muscular act no +more than to the other. His +eyebrows pressed intensely together, +caressing one another, +as the big car whipped back +into line. A sharp outlet of +breath between tightly clenched +teeth preceded the sharper +blast of the horn and then the +Buick was swerving out to +the left again with the accompanying +lip twitch. A car +they were about to pass pulled +out in front of them, initiating +a spasmodic clutching of +the wheel by the left hand, a +furious pounding on the horn +by the right, and a synchronized +twitch, sneer, and muttered +"goddam it" from the +lips, repeated twice while the +eyebrows maintained their position +of togetherness.</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink closed his eyes +finally. There was nothing +more to be gained at the moment +from observation. The +patient's responses while driving +were normal.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mrs. Fairfield greeted them +at the door with a martini +pitcher in one hand and +a modernistically designed +apron around her waist. She +uttered little squeals about +them being early and ushered +them into the living room +where she settled Dr. Quink +on one end of an eight-foot +powder blue divan before she +left the room with the martini +pitcher still clutched tightly +in the one hand, the other +rapidly undoing the apron of +modernistic design. Donald +Fairfield had not said one +word since the front door had +opened in response to their +ring; none had seemed to have +been necessary nor, in fact, +possible, under the deluge of +Mrs. Fairfield's effusive greeting. +Now he sat in the tilted +green armchair in one corner +of the room and, closing his +eyes, relaxed from the strain +of the drive.</p> + +<p>"Your wife is very pretty," +Dr. Quink said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's probably the +most beautiful woman I +know," Fairfield said. "That's +probably why I took her +along. There's something +about a beautiful woman.... +It was certainly a mistake."</p> + +<p>"Feminine beauty is enjoyable +even though you don't indulge +in sex?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, it is," he replied, +with a gesture of annoyance. +"You're still bound by that +Freed—Freud, is it?—of +yours. Damn him. That's really +the main reason I hesitated +so long before I brought her +case to you. I was afraid you +were going to place too much +emphasis on the sexual aspects +which, of course, by +your standards are abnormal. +It has really nothing to do +with the problem, and I wish +you'd forget about it, but I +suppose you can't. To you, her +sexual instincts will be normal +and it will be <i>mine</i> which +will appear abnormal, whereas +in reality, of course, it's the +other way around. You'll +never cure her, I can see that +now. But then, you don't have +to really <i>cure</i> her. If you can +just get her to admit the truth +for just a moment or two, just +temporarily, I can get her +back to some really competent +men. No reflection on your +ability meant, you know. I +realize you're the best available +in this age, naturally."</p> + +<p>"Naturally."</p> + +<p>"But you can't know that, +can you? Well, take my word +for it, you are. So suppose you +start acting like it and get to +work on her, eh? Could it be +Gilui? No."</p> + +<p>Dr. Quink bent over and +tied his shoelace once or twice +before he replied. He would +have to talk to Mrs. Fairfield +in private, of course, Mr. +Fairfield could understand +that, of course, it was not that +Dr. Quink did not want Mr. +Fairfield around when the discussion +took place but simply +that one could not achieve rapport +without absolute confidence +and, of course, privacy.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Mr. Fairfield +agreed. "I'll go up and shower +now, perhaps I'll take a bit of +a nap before dinner. I'd like +to avoid that horrible liquid +she was stirring up when we +came in anyhow. Somewhere +she's picked up the idea that +one should offer those things +to dinner guests, and I can't +stand them. Will you want a +pen and some notepaper?"</p> + +<p>When he had left the room +to tread up the stairs one at a +time, leaning heavily on the +cast-iron bannister but making +no sound on the wall-to-wall +carpeting, Dr. Quink +leaned back and had barely +time to pass his hand wearily +over his eyes in a circular motion +that he found soothing +when Mrs. Fairfield entered +from behind a swinging door +bearing a small circular tray +on which were balanced the +aforementioned martini pitcher +and two high-stemmed +glasses, properly frosted and +rounded with lemon.</p> + +<p>"Has he left already?" she +asked. "Well, shall we get +right down to business? You +call me Mimi and I'll call you +Victor. What did you think of +his story? Pretty wild, isn't +it? But he's harmless, I'm +sure. I'm not in the least bit +afraid of him. Do you think I +should be?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Victor smiled and accepted +the proffered martini. He +cradled it in long fingers and, +elbows on knees, contemplated +his hostess, analyzing her +physical attraction. He finally +decided it emanated in the +main from her almond-shaped +eyes and in their somewhat +mystical synchronization with +her wide, sensual lips. There +was definitely a disconcerting +correlation between them +when she smiled, and as he +was studying this phenomenon +he realized that of course +she <i>was</i> smiling.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said. "It +was rude of me to stare."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly," she said. +"It was most complimentary. +But I suppose in your position +it's best to be extremely careful."</p> + +<p>"My position?"</p> + +<p>"Flirting with your patient's +wife."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He put down the martini +rather too quickly, sploshing +a bit over the edges of the +glass, leaving colorless stains +that evaporated in a few moments. +"I don't want you to +think <i>that</i>, Mrs. Fairfield," he +said. "It's just that ... +that ..."</p> + +<p>But she didn't interrupt +him to say, "Of course not," +or "I was just teasing," or +"Isn't it amazing how little +rain we've had lately. Did you +realize that this is the driest +November in sixteen and a +half years?" She just stared +and smiled at him, and let him +flounder and make noises until +he gave it up as a bad job and +took a long drink from the +frosted glass he had so recently +and abruptly put down. She +refilled his glass and leaned +back in her chair.</p> + +<p>"Could you tell me about +him, Mrs. Fairfield?" he said +then. "Start as far back as +you can, please."</p> + +<p>"All right, Victor," she +said. "But it won't be much +help, I'm afraid. Did he tell +you he came from the future?"</p> + +<p>"He said that both of you +did."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's right. Both of +us. And I refuse to go back, is +that it?"</p> + +<p>"Because of some deep-seated +neurosis which he +wants me to cure. His story is +plausible, logical, once you +grant the basic premise that +time travel is an actuality. +You see, Mrs. Fairfield—"</p> + +<p>"Mimi, please, Victor. After +all, we're not in your office, +and I'm not really your patient, +am I? Or am I?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. Well, Mimi, +then, the first step is to break +down his story. Show him for +once and all that it is <i>not</i> +plausible, that it is not even +possible, that it is plainly and +simply a lie which he himself +has made up to hide something +that he is afraid of. +Once we can get him to see +this, or at least to wonder +about it, once we can break +the granite assurance of his +that he comes from another +time, then perhaps we can +probe into his festering secret. +But we can't do that, I'm +afraid, until he begins to admit, +at least to himself, that +he <i>is</i> sick and that he needs +help. In this case it shouldn't +be too hard."</p> + +<p>"My, you <i>are</i> brilliant. I +wonder how you do it. Oh, you +shouldn't gulp a martini so +quickly. Here, let me pour you +some more, but sip it this +time. I know, I can't stand the +taste either, but it's really the +only way."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fairfield—"</p> + +<p>"Mimi," she insisted.</p> + +<p>"Mimi," he said, then hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Mimi," she prompted.</p> + +<p>"I forgot what I was going +to say," he admitted. +"Cheers."</p> + +<p>"Don't gulp," she said. +"Here, I'll pour you another +one, but sip it, now promise."</p> + +<p>"God, it does taste awful, +doesn't it?" he said, grimacing. +"I don't think I ever +<i>tasted</i> one before. Do you +think limes might help?"</p> + +<p>"We have some in the kitchen, +but it doesn't sound like a +good idea to me. Why don't we +just throw the mess away and +whip up something else? I just +wanted you to think I was chic +this season to serve mar<i>tin</i>is."</p> + +<p>"What season? Football?"</p> + +<p>"Hunting," she said, and +the eyes and lips smiled together +again.</p> + +<p>"Mimi," Victor said a bit +pompously, standing up and +leaning over her, "I hope you +are not flirting with me. You +are, remember, a married +woman and are, in fact, married +to a patient of mine."</p> + +<p>"First of all," she said, +"you're being pompous. Second +of all, he's not your patient, +he says I'm your +patient. Third of all, I'm not +married to him. And fourth, +of all ... is it fourth or fifth +... well anyway, fourth or +fifth of all, let's try the limes. +We've nothing to lose, it +couldn't taste worse."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"First of all," he said, following +her to the kitchen, "I +am never pompous. Second of +all, he <i>is</i> my patient because +he came to my office obviously +seeking psychiatric help but +too sick to ask for it. I feel it +only my duty to help him and +besides, his case is fascinating."</p> + +<p>"And his wife isn't, I suppose," +she said over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Third of all," he said, "and +I ignore the interruption, +what the hell do you mean +you're not married to him? +And fourth of all, it is fourth, +not fifth, I think the limes will +help immeasurably."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think it all comes +back to your original question. +You know, about telling you +all about him, and how it +started, and all that. You see, +I can't, because I don't remember. +Here, you cut the limes +while I look for the squeezer."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>While Dr. Quink was cutting +the limes he didn't exactly +talk to himself, but thoughts +did present themselves to his +mind with very nearly verbal +exactitude. The immediate +progression towards a solution +of this case did not seem +to be so clearly cut out as he +had assumed it would be. +There were, it now became +more and more obvious, complications +he had not foreseen. +Mrs. Fairfield was not exactly +acting toward him as a psychiatrist +normally expects the +wife of a patient to, so that, +although he found her pleasant +and indeed invigorating, if +that is the word and he was not +sure that it was but the only +alternative that came to his +mind, stimulating, had connotations +that he was not yet +ready to accept, although he +did find her pleasant and et +cetera yet he found her behavior +also disturbing, in the +clinical sense this time, and +the revelation as to her distinctly +limited memory should +be described not as a disturbance +but as a downright +earthquake, to ring in a seismological +metaphor that occurred +to him as he nicked his +finger during the slicing of +the fourth lime.</p> + +<p>"Oh, did you cut yourself?" +she said, straightening up +from the lower shelves of a +pine cupboard. "I'm so sorry, +but never mind. Here's the +squeezer."</p> + +<p>The apparent non sequitur, +coming in the midst of his +thoughts that were already +confused, bewildered him for +the moment, but he felt it +would be more fruitful to get +back to the problem at hand +and, blotting his seeping blood +with a handkerchief, he inquired +after her reticent memory.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let's mix in the lime +juice first. Aren't you at all +anxious to see how it will +taste? Honestly, men have no +curiosity."</p> + +<p>Well, as it turned out, it +tasted pretty good. At any +rate, that was the consensus +of opinion, alcoholic as it +might have been, as they returned +with the pitcher of +green martinis to the living +room. "The furthest back that +I can remember," Mimi said +after they had settled themselves +on the divan, "the absolutely +first thing I can remember +is relieving my bladder, if +that makes any sense to you."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," Victor +said, "it makes extremely +good sense indeed. If you will +pardon me and kindly direct +me towards the wash room?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When he returned after an +absence of a few minutes, during +which time the muted +sound of snoring emanated +from the master bedroom into +the silence left by his absence, +he attempted once again to +take up the thread of conversation +that had been so abruptly +snapped. "You were +telling me, I believe, about the +first thing you can remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Have another +martini. Here, I'll pour. +I was on a train, you see, at +this moment when my memory +begins. It was, by the way, +eight months ago. As I emerged +from the ladies' room I +could not remember from +which direction I had come. +That is, I didn't know in +which direction my seat was, +if you follow me."</p> + +<p>Victor nodded more vigorously +than he had intended, +and she went on. "I didn't +know whether to turn to right +or left. That's a frightening +feeling to have in a train, not +knowing where your seat is, +when you're all closed in anyhow +and you can feel the floor +beneath your feet and the +walls and ceiling all rushing +somewhere so terribly fast +and carrying you with it and +all. I wasn't really <i>frightened</i>, +you understand, but anyway, +as I say, it's a terrible feeling. +So I leaned back against the +wall and tried to collect my +wits. But I couldn't think of +anything. That really frightened +me. So I said to myself, +now just relax and think back +to where you're going and +when you got on the train and +who you're with and everything +like that and just relax +and you'll remember where +your seat is in half a moment. +But I didn't. Remember, I +mean. And suddenly I realized +that I didn't remember where +I was going or who I was with +or when I had got on the train +or anything, anything at all. I +simply couldn't remember +anything previous to a moment +ago. I was scared silly by +this time, and that damned +train kept on rumbling and +shaking and rushing on into I +didn't know what. So I said to +myself, now just relax and +keep calm. This is all very +silly. Now, then, I said after +taking two deep breaths and +exhaling slowly, my name is +... my name is ... And by +God, I didn't know my own +name! It was such a queer +feeling I got goose pimples all +over, just like that. I mean, I +felt as if I knew my name, it +was on the tip of my tongue, +but I just couldn't say it, I +just couldn't remember my +own name.</p> + +<p>"Then I began to run. I +didn't know where I was going +but I was scared to hell +and I just ran. I ran through +five or six cars and the panic +kept getting worse, and then I +turned around and began +running back the way I had +come, just running as fast as +I could and you know what +that's like on a train, I kept +falling against people and +pushing them off and running +and suddenly this man grabbed +me and said, 'Mimi, +Mimi,' he kept saying that and +I guess some more and finally +he calmed me down and, of +course, it was Donald. He told +me I was all right and to be +quiet and what the hell was +the matter with me anyhow. +Well, to make a long story +short, we got off the train +here and stayed in a hotel for +a while and then Donald +bought this place and here we +are. But I don't know if I'm +really his wife or not. Did he +mention sex to you?"</p> + +<p>Victor nodded and she said, +"So you know I'm not his wife +<i>that</i> way, at least. And I have +only his word that we were +ever married."</p> + +<p>"You don't have a marriage +certificate, or pictures?"</p> + +<p>"We don't have anything +that would prove our existence +prior to that date we +were on the train. Naturally, +he'd have left all that behind +when we left wherever we +were coming from. Any documents +at all would ruin his +story. For all I know he just +picked me up at the train station."</p> + +<p>"And you just picked up +life here?" Victor asked. "As +simple as that!"</p> + +<p>"What else could I do? I +was terribly frightened, and +Donald was so calm and assuring. +I didn't really think I +had lost my memory, you +know. I mean, I <i>couldn't</i> believe +it. I didn't seem bewildered +or anything, I just could +not remember anything. Am +I making sense? Anyway, I +felt it would all come back +to me any moment, and I went +on living from one moment to +another, and here I am and I +still can't remember anything."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"What was Donald's reaction +when you told him you +didn't know who you were?" +Victor asked her.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact, I +didn't tell him right away. I +was so afraid, I just went +along with him.... Oh, it's so +hard to explain."</p> + +<p>"He didn't realize that you +were acting strange, bewildered?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know," Mimi +said, "we're not talking about +a normal man, remember. I +suppose if I acted sort of, you +know, lost, he attributed it to +our recent trip through time. +<i>I</i> don't know. Anyhow, he +seemed to accept me."</p> + +<p>"Let's get back to this time-travel +bit. When did you realize +that he thought you had +both come from another +time?"</p> + +<p>"The limes really make the +drink, don't they?" she asked. +"Well, it came out sort of +gradually. I'd listen to him +really closely whenever he +talked about the past, naturally. +I was trying to find out +about me without telling him, +I thought he'd get all excited +and all, and of course he did +when I finally told him but by +then it was all so different +and I'm afraid I've gotten confused. +Where was I? Oh, you +need a refill."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Victor said, +"I forget myself exactly where +it was you were. Is that +right? Where you was it +were? No, I'm sure <i>that's</i> +wrong. Where were you it +was, I think. Does that sound +better to you?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that peculiar?" she +answered. "Could it be where +I was you weren't? No, now +I'm being silly, and I can't for +the life of me understand why. +After all, this is a serious affair. +Or at least I wish it were. +Was."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I remember, damn it," she +said. "We were talking about +<i>Don</i>ald again. Well, he kept +making these remarks about +coming through time and of +course I didn't understand +what the hell he was talking +about but I thought because of +my not remembering anything +and all that I better just not +say anything so I didn't, but +he kept on and little by little I +got the idea, the general idea +anyhow, but what on earth +could I do about it? And then +he started talking about it +was time to go back and all +that, and I <i>cer</i>tainly wasn't +going to go floating off in any +old <i>time</i> machine whether he +was nuts or not, so I just kept +putting him off the best I +could but he started getting so +impatient that finally—what +was that? I think there's +something wrong."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>They both sat suddenly +quite still and listened, but +they heard nothing.</p> + +<p>"I hear nothing," Victor +said.</p> + +<p>"That's it," Mimi hissed. +"He's not snoring anymore. +He'll be here any minute. Act +natural. Have another martini."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, perhaps just +one more," Victor said as +Donald Fairfield came into the +room.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He strode across the room +crossing in front of them +without turning his head or +acknowledging their presence +and made straight for the +buffet in the opposite corner. +He bent over and extracted a +thick black cigar, struck a +match, lit the cigar, puffed +several times, dropped the +match into a gigantic ashtray +made of marble, or something +that looked like marble, puffed +several more times, finally inhaled +deeply and exhaled +slowly before he turned and +nodded at his two spectators. +"You make better cigars than +we do, I'll say that for the +twentieth century," he complimented +Victor in the manner +of all tourists, as if Victor +himself were the cause and +not the product of his age. +"One of the mysteries of history," +he continued, "how a +simple technique, like making +a good cigar or a good +mummy, can be lost once it's +been perfected. Always seems +to be though. Each age has its +secrets. You can't make wine +now like the ancient Greeks +did."</p> + +<p>"As," Mimi interpolated. +"As the Greeks did."</p> + +<p>"I hate to be bombastic," +Donald answered her, "not to +say dogmatic or pedagogical, +or impecunious too, for that +matter, at least in this particular +day and age, but I believe +my original adjectival usage +to be the correct one."</p> + +<p>"If your thought had called +for an adjective," Mimi countered, +"but properly, according +to the accepted grammar +of the present day, that is, +you should have used an adverb."</p> + +<p>"Whatchamacallit tastes +good <i>like</i> a dum-dum cigarette +should," Victor put in, in an +attempt to settle the subject.</p> + +<p>"That's ridiculous," Donald +answered, "it's completely +wrong."</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i> it's wrong," Victor +cried, "that's the point, +<i>every</i>body knows it's—"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," Mimi +agreed. "Why on earth <i>should</i> +a cigarette taste good? Who +says it should? If one wants +to taste something good, why +then one takes a bite of cake, +or a smidgin of candy, or a +plate of cold borscht. If one +cares for borscht. But you +certainly don't smoke a cigarette +to taste something +good, they all taste horrible. +Horribly? Oh damn, look +what you started, Donald. +Now I can't think straight. +Anyhow, people smoke because +of the phallic symbolism, +right, Victor?"</p> + +<p>Donald looked with distaste +from Mimi to the big black +cigar he was holding in his +right hand, and thence to +Victor for a denial. Victor, +however, shrugged his shoulders, +and murmured something +to the effect that this +consideration might possibly +have some bearing on the subject, +that it was really a matter +of interest more to the +applied psychologists and advertising +men than to the +pure scientist or doctor, and +that even so it didn't necessarily +follow that—</p> + +<p>"You're hedging," Mimi +said. "All you have to do is +watch a woman smoke and +then watch a man and—"</p> + +<p>"I thought we were talking +about wine," Donald interrupted, +crushing out his cigar +in the oversize marble, or +nearly so, ashtray. "What +were we saying about it?"</p> + +<p>"You were commenting on +the relative excellence of our +wines and those of the +Greeks," Victor told him. "I +was wondering if perhaps +you've visited them too?"</p> + +<p>Donald Fairfield did not +answer the query. He stared +at Victor contemplatively, +drew in a deep lungful of +acrid smoke-filled air from +above the smoldering ashtray, +and let it out again. +"This is not going to be as +simple an affair as it should +be," he said finally. "I can +see that now, but I suppose +there's nothing to be done but +to see it through. I take it +you've settled everything between +the two of you while +I've been gone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh my," Mimi ejaculated, +"I've got to see about dinner. +See if you two can find something +to talk about while I'm +gone." She hurried out of the +room, one hand already reaching +for the apron of the +modernistic design as she +passed through the swinging +door into the kitchen.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Well," Donald began, +"what did you discover from +my little wife?"</p> + +<p>"To begin with," Victor answered +him, "she seems to +have lost her memory. Everything +previous to an experience +on the train some +eight months ago is a total +blank. Were you aware of +this?"</p> + +<p>"I was not only aware of +it, I told you about it," Donald +answered. "What in +God's creation is this moldy +brew?" he asked after taking +a deep gulp from the lip of +the pitcher and spitting most +of it into the first ashtray he +could reach.</p> + +<p>"Lime martinis, like a daiquiri, +only dryer. If you +don't care for them you +might refill my glass. That's +right, you did tell me she +didn't remember, but of +course—"</p> + +<p>"You didn't believe me," +Donald finished for him. +"Naturally. Look, Dr. Quink, +I think I'm a reasonable man. +Damn it, I <i>know</i> I am. I don't +expect you to believe me right +off the rat when I walk in +and tell you—"</p> + +<p>"Bat," Victor interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," Donald +countered.</p> + +<p>"Bat. Right off the. Not +rat, right off the bat. It's a +colloquialism, comes from +baseball, that's a sport we +play. Perhaps you haven't +come across it, if you've only +been here some eight +months?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, just about eight +months. I've heard of the +sport, of course, but haven't +gone to see a game yet. Do +you think it's worth my +while?"</p> + +<p>"Probably not. Strictly a +partisan sport."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see your point. Not +an idiom, you wouldn't say?"</p> + +<p>"No, definitely not," Victor +said. "Takes time to make an +idiom, but only God can +make a tree. O Lord, I better +have another martini. Would +you pour, I think I might +miss. Still, a colloquialism, +not a doubt about it. The expression +hasn't lasted to your +day, I take it? If it had, then +it might be an idiom. Might, +I say, only might. I promise +nothing."</p> + +<p>"And quite right you are," +Donald said. "Still, I want you +to understand that I don't expect +you to believe me right +off the bat when I wander into +your busy little office and +tell you—by the way, what is +your receptionist doing always +staring at the floor +right next to her desk?"</p> + +<p>"She's in love. He's an advertising +man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well yes, of course. +When I tell you I come from +the future. Obviously you're +not going to accept that right +off the rat, as I say. I mean, +no one could expect you to. +However, after talking at +length to me in your office and +then holding a private conversation +with my wife, you +should, I think, as a trained +and highly competent psychiatrist, +certainly the foremost +of your day—"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At this point Victor had +waved a deprecating hand.</p> + +<p>"Please allow me to say +that I am certainly a better +judge of your position in this +world than you could possibly +be. Seeing it in the proper +perspective, I mean. I did not +intend to compliment you +when I described you as I just +did, I merely state a fact already +known to my confreres. +Then you should, as I say, under +these most favorable +circumstances, and certainly +being forewarned, then you +should be able to tell who is +suffering from a delusion and +who is not. Apart from what +the delusion is, and whether +or not you choose to believe +in it, simply studying the behavior +of the people involved, +you should be able to tell who +is acting normally and who +is not."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you in every +particular," Victor said. "I +certainly should. And I think +I can, and have. In point of +fact—"</p> + +<p>"Dinner is ready," Mimi +said. "And no shop talk, +please. I want you to taste my +squash and applesauce piece. +And no one, absolutely <i>no</i> +one, comes into my dining +room with a stinking black +cigar."</p> + +<p>"Could it be Galilililu?" +Donald murmured. "Damn."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"This is excellent," Victor +said. "How do you make it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, thank you," Mimi +replied. "It's very simple. +You just take the squash and +then pour in the applesauce +and cinnamon."</p> + +<p>"There must be more to it +than that," Victor insisted, +smiling around a mouthful.</p> + +<p>"Of course there is," she +said. "But I'm not telling you +all my secrets. You'll have to +come back if you want it +again."</p> + +<p>"Damn it," said Donald, +"stop jibber-jabbering! We +know why we're here, so let's +talk about it. Can you cure +my crazy wife?"</p> + +<p>"Donald!" Mimi spluttered.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Fairfield," Victor +said, "let's not be unfair. +Your wife has amnesia, but +she's not crazy. As a matter +of fact, psychiatrists no longer +recognize the term as +such—"</p> + +<p>"Pass the roast," Donald +said. "Do you think <i>I'm</i> crazy +or don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I most certainly do not!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I was born +in the future?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fairfield, talking like +this isn't getting us anywhere. +Now Mimi—I'm sorry, +Mrs. Fairfield—doesn't remember +anything previous to +that train ride we were talking +about...."</p> + +<p>"Naturally," Donald said. +"That's when we got here. +We'll skip the technicalities, +but it's always easier to land +on something that's moving. +Standard procedure. I don't +really understand it myself, +but I'm no engineer. We +landed in the twentieth century—is +it the twentieth or +the twenty-first?"</p> + +<p>"The twentieth," Victor assured +him.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that silly of me. I'm +always getting mixed up. It +doesn't make much difference, +though, you know. Not much +of a change from one to the +other. Not like the nineteenth +and twentieth, nothing like +that at all. Do you ever find +yourself wondering if it's the +twentieth of the month or the +twenty-first?"</p> + +<p>"I have a calendar on my +desk."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Donald mused. "I +didn't notice it." He stared +intently at Victor Quink +while he munched his celery. +"It's not hard to see why +you've risen to the top of your +profession. Calendar on your +desk, eh?" He looked at his +wife and tapped the side of +his head significantly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"You landed aboard this +train some eight months +ago," Dr. Quink prompted. +"What are you doing here, +anyhow? Are you an historian?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," he replied at +once. "Haven't you noticed all +the books you people are +writing? Every one of your +presidents, every general, +every field-marshal, every +scientist, manufacturer, tennis +star, and juvenile delinquent +has written a book, or +at least a serial for the <i>Post</i>. +No reason at all for any historian +to come back to this +particular age. No other age +in all history, I might add, +has been so fond of itself or +so cognizant of the need for +preserving itself and its records +for posterity as has +yours. And with very little +reason. But of course that +last is only a personal observation, +and I may be prejudiced, +having lived here, so to +speak, for these past months. +You get to see the seamy side +of a civilization, you know, +when you live there yourself. +Incidentally, would you be interested +to know how your +age has been classified by +posterity? Of course you +would, silly of me to ask. Well, +to get on with it, you know +how historians are always +<i>naming</i> periods, and groups, +and whatever. The Age of +Darkness, you remember, +then the Age of Awakening, +the Age of Enlightenment, +the Age of Reason, et cetera? +As it turns out, you've come +down to us as the Age of +Verbiage. Amusing, eh? No? +Well, you can't please everybody. +I thought it was cute. +But in answer to your question +I'll have to say no, I'm +just a tourist. I'm on vacation. +Nothing more sensational +than that, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"And naturally you took +your wife with you," Victor +added.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Donald looked down at his +plate for just a moment or +two, then answered "naturally," +without raising his eyes +at all.</p> + +<p>"Somehow, Mr. Fairfield," +Victor said, "somehow I get +the feeling you're holding out +on me, you're not telling me +all."</p> + +<p>"Damn it, the more I tell +you the less you believe. I +never should have told you +the truth at all. I should have +just said my wife's suffering +from amnesia and let it go at +that."</p> + +<p>"I'm not an engineer +either," Victor answered. "I +can't just twist a screw and +restore the proper functioning +of the memory mechanism. +I've got to know the +whole truth, Mr. Fairfield, +the whole truth."</p> + +<p>"How come my wife is +Mimi and I'm Mr. Fairfield?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Victor stammered, +"I—"</p> + +<p>"Donald, you're embarrassing +him," Mimi interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Just joshing, pulling your +toe, or leg, or some such," +Donald assured him. "We +might as well be friends, at +least. Make it Donald too. I +might even take your autograph +back with me. I think +the fights are on television. +Want to watch?"</p> + +<p>"I'll just do up the dishes, +dear," Mimi said.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I don't care +much for the prize fights," +Victor said.</p> + +<p>"Just sit where you are +then, and relax. I'm going to +watch them. Won't see many +more of them before we go," +he said, throwing a lowering +glance at his wife as he left +the room. He returned in a +few moments, however, before +the two of them had had +time to begin a conversation, +and addressed Victor, "Sorry +to interfere, promise I won't +interrupt again. I'm sure you +two are making just miles of +progress and I dislike the +role of an impedance, but a +phrase just popped into my +head and I'm sure I won't be +able to concentrate on the +fights properly until it's resolved. +I wonder, Dr. Quink, +if you could possibly tell me +if this is the age that is so +fond of saying that idiots +walk with God? You know +what I mean, that they don't +need their wit because God's +hand is on their shoulder, so +to speak, and that's why et +cetera? Childish, perhaps, +but touching, don't you +think?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Mr. Fairfield," +Victor replied, "but I hadn't +heard the phrase before. Perhaps +I'm just unfamiliar with +it, or more probably you +picked it up elsewhere on +your travels."</p> + +<p>"Mmmm," Donald answered, +somewhat noncommittally, +"perhaps. Well, don't let me +detain you. I'll just run +along. Vaya con Dios," he +waved as he left the room. +They waited a few seconds in +silence, but he didn't return.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Will you take him on as a +patient?" Mimi asked when +they heard the first roaring +of the crowd from the living-room.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to very much, if +you want me to. He's a fascinating +case. But it won't be +easy, it's going to take time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," she +assured him. "He's not dangerous, +and we've plenty of +money. Take all the time you +want."</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "I +don't mind admitting I'm +pretty bewildered by now." +He shook his head two or +three times, as if to clear it, +then asked, "Where does the +money come from?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"I mean, what does he do +for a living?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Did you ask +him?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. He'll probably say +he brought the money from +the future."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," she agreed.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you even know +where your husband gets his +money?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What a combination you +two are," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"I can't hear you," she +called from the kitchen. "The +water is making too much +noise. Come in here." He +went in and leaned against +the powder blue refrigerator +while she soaked the dishes. +"He won't come to your office +for examinations or treatments," +she said. "He thinks +I'm the one who's nuts."</p> + +<p>"That's probably true," he +agreed, somewhat ambiguously. +"It would be better if +you were my patient at the +same time. You do have this +amnesia anyhow, I'd like to +clear that up. Would you be +willing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd love it," she cried. +"I can come see you for regular +treatments, and then you +can come to the house for +supper several times a week +and see him then."</p> + +<p>"Let's go see if he agrees +to that," Victor said. Mimi +dried her hands in a hurry +on a dish towel, grabbed a +handful of his fingers, and +pulled him after her to the +living-room. Her fingers were +still cool and damp.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He saw a lot of the two of +them in the few weeks following +that night, but he +learned nothing more. Donald +Fairfield was sulky and uncommunicative, +muttering only +over and over again that +he had already said too much +and Lord knew what would +become of him when he got +back but he didn't see what +else he could have done under +the circumstances and no +one else had ever gotten into +such a fix why the hell did it +have to happen to him, a +quiet and thoughtful and considerate +man who wouldn't +swat a fly, or anyhow not a +pregnant fly. This opened up +an entire new line of discussion. +Mimi didn't know, in reply +to his query, whether +flies got pregnant or not. At +least, she had never seen one. +Donald was forced into a +short lecture, barely remembered +from second year biology, +but it seemed to satisfy +them. "We don't have lower +forms of life at home, you +know," Donald apologized.</p> + +<p>On days when he didn't +come to their home for supper, +Mimi would have the last +appointment of the day with +him, and after her hour they +would leave together, waking +up Margaret before they left +the office, stop off for cocktails +before Mimi had to catch +her train, miss the train, have +dinner, miss the next train, +catch a show or walk in the +park, drive Mimi home, and +finally part. They talked a lot, +they talked seemingly without +reserve, but Victor +learned nothing new. Her life +before that train ride was +simply a blank.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to try hypnotism," +Victor said to her one +day in his office.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied.</p> + +<p>He was surprised. "I don't +think you understand," he +said. "I want to hypnotize +you and try to take you back +before that train ride, back +to your childhood—"</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly safe," he +said.</p> + +<p>She filed a rough edge off +her nail, second finger, right +hand.</p> + +<p>"It's standard analytic procedure. +I've used it dozens of +times. I'm quite competent—"</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"But why not?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You'll find out all about +me," she said. "I'll have no +secrets left."</p> + +<p>"But you shouldn't want to +have any secrets from your +psychoanalyst. I can't help +you then."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she agreed. +"But I want to have secrets +from you," she said softly, +and looked up quietly from +her fingers, staring directly +into his eyes, and her lips and +her eyes underwent that mysterious +synchronization once +again. "I don't want you to +know me like a book, with +everything spelled out in +black and white, but like a +portrait, with hidden shades +and nuances.... I want you +to know me gradually, slowly...."</p> + +<p>"Mimi," he said, and paused. +He pushed back from his +desk, swiveled completely +around and back to his original +position, cracked two +knuckles, tried to force some +saliva into a suddenly dry +mouth, and started to speak +again. "Mimi, it's not unusual +for a patient to develop +a feeling of affection for her +psychoanalyst. In fact, it's the +usual—"</p> + +<p>"It's not like that with us, +though, is it?" she asked, +more quietly, more softly and +deeply, than before.</p> + +<p>After a long pause he said, +"No. No, it's not."</p> + +<p>And so they sat there while +the daylight faded outside +them and the twilight crawled +up sixty-three floors to encircle +their window and continue +unhesitatingly upward.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"What are we going to do?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"We're not going to do +anything, Mimi," he finally +said. "When I'm with you, it's +all so light and fantastic and +funny, that I forget. But it +would be unforgivable to fall +in love with a patient, and +the wife of a patient. I can't +do it. We'll have to stop right +away. I'm no good as an analyst +to you anymore, anyway. +I'm sorry, I'll send you to +someone else. And now you'd +better go."</p> + +<p>She stood up, walked +around his desk, and put her +hands lightly on his neck. +"You're such a dear," she +said. "I'll always love you. +I've never seen you so serious +before. We always laugh and +talk and giggle when we're +together, and I loved you +then. But now that you're sad +and serious and oh so pitiably +tragic I love you more than I +could ever tell you. But please +don't worry, don't worry +about a thing, darling. You'll +see, it will all work out."</p> + +<p>"It can't work out, Mimi, +there's absolutely no way on +earth for it to work out. +There's no solution at all."</p> + +<p>"Please don't worry, darling," +she said, picking up her +gloves. "I can't bear to see +you looking so tragic. Life +isn't so serious, especially as +you're loved." She walked out +and closed the door behind +her. Victor sat quite still. He +could barely hear her saying +"Margaret, wake up, Margaret, +it's time to go home," +through the thick wooden +door.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The phone rang in his office +three days later. He was alone +at the time, going over some +notes he had just taken with +another patient. Margaret +was out, presumably peering +through the floor of the ladies' +lounge down the hall, and he +picked up the receiver himself.</p> + +<p>"Victor, come quick," Mimi +screamed through the wires. +"He's trying to kill me!"</p> + +<p>She said more, but he heard +none of it. His fingers went +numb, the phone dropped, he +was out of his seat and skidding +around the desk before it +hit the carpeted floor. He had +to wait at the elevator. He +thought for one silly moment +of racing to the exit and running +down sixty-three floors, +then compromised on stamping +his feet and slamming one +fist into the other palm and +striding up and down while +three other men and two +women also waiting for the +elevator stared at him. He +thought of calling the police +just as the elevator door opened, +and he nearly turned and +left it, but couldn't and leaped +in just as the doors were closing. +"I'm Dr. Quink," he +shouted at the elevator operator. +"This is an emergency. +Take me straight down."</p> + +<p>The elevator went straight +down. The doors opened on the +ground floor and Victor shot +out, leaving behind two nearly +mortally sick women and several +acid comments to the effect +that he was probably late +for a matinee. "I couldn't take +any chances," apologized the +elevator operator, "it might +really have <i>been</i> an emergency."</p> + +<p>It wasn't raining in New +York that day, so he was able +to get a cab immediately. He +took it to his parking lot and +roared off from there. He sped +through the city traffic, incurring +the widespread wrath +and disapproval of the police +department. A patrol car +caught up with him on Grand +Central Parkway and forced +him off the road. He explained +who he was and that a madman +was threatening to kill +his wife, no, not <i>his</i> wife, the +madman's wife, and that he +didn't have time to sit here +and talk about it. The police +officer told him to follow him, +and, siren blazing, they roared +off once again.</p> + +<p>It occurred to both of them +nearly simultaneously that +Victor couldn't possibly follow +the police officer, it had to be +the other way around, and so +Victor took the lead, the red +siren hanging on behind. But +when Victor left the parkway +he saw in his mirror no flashing +red light, somewhere he +had lost the police. He touched +the brake a second, for the +first time in the past fifteen +minutes, then accelerated +again and hurried on. He had +not the time to wait.</p> + +<p>The door to the Fairfield's +home was unlocked and he +burst in without ringing. +"Mimi," he cried, then, hearing +vague noises from the upstairs +bedroom, he hurried +there.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He didn't find Mimi there. +Donald Fairfield was alone in +the bedroom, and the bedroom +was a mess, and there was a +gun in Donald Fairfield's +hand.</p> + +<p>Victor stopped in the doorway, +a gas pain shooting up +his side. He thought at that +moment, inanely, he should +play more handball.</p> + +<p>"Galileo," Donald Fairfield +said, "it came to me just a few +moments ago. Galileo. It was +on the tip of my tongue all the +time, I just couldn't think of +it. What were we saying about +him, do you remember? What +brought it up?"</p> + +<p>Victor braced himself up +against the doorway, breathing +hard. He stared at the gun +in Donald's hand. Donald followed +his gaze down his side +to the gun, and seemed surprised +when he saw it. "Oh, +yes. She's in the bathroom," +he said, waving his gun towards +the closed door. "She's +locked the door."</p> + +<p>Victor belched.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake," said Donald. +"There's a time and a +place for everything."</p> + +<p>Victor crossed to the door. +"Mimi," he called. "Mimi, it's +me, Victor."</p> + +<p>The lock clicked, the door +opened, and Mimi walked out +and folded herself into his +arms. He held her until she +stopped shaking, then until he +himself stopped shaking and +until his breath came more +easily. He kept all the while +his back toward Donald and +the gun, and his arms folded +around her so that she was +safe from him. Then he turned +and calmly as he could, he asked +what in the holy hell was +going on.</p> + +<p>"He wants me to go back +with him, right now," Mimi +said. She was shivering in his +arms. "I'm not going, I'm not +going with him."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you're not," +Victor said. He turned back +to Donald. "What's the rush +all of a sudden?" he asked. +"What's the big emergency?" +he smiled.</p> + +<p>"Don't turn on the personality, +Dr. Quink," Fairfield +said. "It's too complicated to +explain, but time's run out on +us. We've got to go tonight, +and I'm taking her with me +dead or alive, I don't give a +damn which way anymore, +she's coming with me dead or +alive."</p> + +<p>Victor let go of Mimi and +took a step toward him, but +the hand with the gun came +up and gun was pointed +straight at him, and the voice +was flat and tired and desperate, +"I can't leave her here, +you can see what it would +mean. They're very strict +about time traveling, they +have to be, and she can't stay +here. She hasn't lost her memory, +she knows damned well +where she comes from, and +she's going back now, one way +or the other. I don't know +what'll happen to me when we +get back if I kill her, but it's +my decision and I can't let her +stay behind, no matter what." +His voice started to rise and +the words began to come faster. +He was working himself +up dangerously near the +breaking point.</p> + +<p>"If you'll just calm down +for a few moments," Victor +tried, "I'm sure we can talk +this out sensibly enough."</p> + +<p>"It won't work, Dr. Quink, +it won't work. You're trying +to talk it out like I'm nuts, +you're trying to reassure me, +but it won't work because you +can't. Because I'm <i>not</i> nuts! +I'm telling the truth and she +knows it! Damn you, Mimi, +tell him!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"All right! All right, I'll +tell him," she cried. "And I'll +tell you, too. And I'm not going +back with you, you'll see. +Because I planned this from +the start. My God, what a +day," she sighed, and sat +down on the bed. "Now listen, +both of you, you, too, Donald, +because you don't know it all +either."</p> + +<p>"He's not crazy, Victor, we +do come from the future. I +was reading about all the +Nobel prize winners, darling, +and of course, I came across +you, and right from the beginning +you fascinated me. Do +you know you were the first +psychiatrist ever to win the +award, and then you won it +twice? Oh, I can tell you, I +was terribly impressed! And +when I saw your picture, you +know the one, the portrait by +Videl in the Museum of Ancient—oh, +but of course, it +hasn't been done yet. You +have gray sideburns then, and +there's not a touch of gray in +your hair now. Anyway, you +look absolutely distinguished +with gray, it's certainly your +color. And I thought you were +just the handsomest Nobel +winner I had ever seen, and +darling, you are, not the +slightest doubt about it. Don't +you think so, Donald?"</p> + +<p>"He's charming," Donald +replied. "Just terribly, terribly +charming. Would you +mind getting on with it?"</p> + +<p>"Please," Victor started to +interrupt.</p> + +<p>"Don't be modest, darling," +Mimi went on. "So then I read +a biography, and then another, +and soon I was doing +nothing but studying you. I fell +in love with you, dear, I fell +in love with you a thousand +years after you were dead. +You never married, you know, +and you needed me, and I +guess that helped, but at any +rate I fell, and I fell all the +way.</p> + +<p>"We're not married, Donald +and I. There's no sex then, so +there's no need for marriage. +Right, Donald? Right. But he +was coming here on vacation +and he was nice enough to +take me along, and we had to +fit in, so we came as husband +and wife. Just a matter of +convenience, really. But then +we were here for all those +months, and I didn't get to +meet you, and something +about this age just got into +my bones, I loved it so, people +really <i>live</i> now, not like back +home. And I nearly forgot +about you, Victor dear, although +I can't understand that +now, and all I wanted was to +live here like a normal person, +a normal wife. But <i>he</i> +couldn't understand that. At +any rate, I went native, I +went whole hog native.</p> + +<p>"And then it was time to go +home. But I wasn't going. So +I made up this story about +forgetting everything and I +pretended I thought he was +nuts or something and he went +and got you and suddenly +there you were in my living +room and it all came back, +darling, it came back so fast +and strong I thought I'd die +on the spot. And I love you +now, darling, I love you now +and forever, and I won't go +back alive, I swear that."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Mimi," Donald begged, +"think of the future. If you +don't go back it'll be all upset. +We can't have people just +popping up in the past from +the future, there has to be +discipline. It's one thing to +come here quietly for a few +months of harmless vacation, +and then just as quietly +to disappear. But to settle +down brazenly in another +time, to ... to immigrate, as it +were, well, it just can't be +done. There's no precedent, +just none at all. <i>No</i>body would +think of doing such a thing. +Why, who knows what would +happen if you stayed here? It +could upset the whole pattern +of the future!"</p> + +<p>"The future will just have +to take care of itself," Mimi +answered. "I love him, and +you can't argue with that. +There's nothing you can say +that can argue with that. I +don't care poof for the future."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Victor sat down quietly on +the edge of the bed, he felt a +bit weak around the general +vicinity of the knees. Mimi +stood up and strode over to +the window, her back to the +conversation. "Mimi," Donald +pleaded, "just think of what +you're doing. You'll lose your +immortality, for one thing. +You know, it's not something +you're just <i>born</i> with, it's the +result of careful medical science. +Why, almost <i>any</i>thing +could happen to you here. +They have all <i>sorts</i> of ugly +diseases. And if you should +last just a few years longer, +just maybe fifty or sixty more +years, your heart will almost +certainly pop off. They don't +have any sort of arterial rejuvenation +now, nothing at +all. You're trading immortality +for a mere <i>moment</i>."</p> + +<p>"I don't give a damn or a +wild pig's snort," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Don't be vulgar," Donald +said. "Let's keep this on a +civilized plane."</p> + +<p>"That's not vulgarity," she +answered. "It's poetry. 'I +don't give a damn or a wild +pig's snort, but you cut just +one strand and the fashions +be damned, I swear that I'll +boil three in lime!'"</p> + +<p>"Lime?" Victor asked rather +weakly.</p> + +<p>"I think so, dear," Mimi +said. "Would you care for a +martini?"</p> + +<p>"How about the toilet!" +Donald suddenly thundered. +"How about <i>that</i>, hey?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," Mimi +replied.</p> + +<p>"The toilets, the toilets," he +repeated impatiently. "Do you +want to spend the rest of your +short life with this old-fashioned +plumbing?" He waved +wildly toward the tile bathroom. +"It's all right roughing +it for a few months like we +did, but can you honestly +imagine spending the rest of +your <i>life</i> under such vile conditions? +Ha, you didn't think +of that, did you?" he continued +when he saw the sudden +stricken expression on her +face. "You don't like the idea, +do you?"</p> + +<p>Mimi clenched her fists at +her side and stamped her little +foot. "I don't <i>care</i>," she spit +out, "I absolutely do not care! +I will stay with him, I will, I +will, I <i>will</i>." She turned and +looked at the bathroom that +opened off the bedroom, and +blanched for one moment, +then she shut her eyes, gave +another kick, and insisted. "I +will, I will, I will!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Donald sighed and slapped +his hands at his side. He turned +around, hesitated for a few +seconds, then said to the wall, +"I've tried. I've tried everything +I could think of." He +turned again and faced them, +and he raised his gun. "You're +coming, Mimi. One way or +another, you're coming."</p> + +<p>So quietly he hardly realized +what he was doing, but +thankful that the gas pain had +vanished, Victor stepped between +the gun and the girl. +"You'll have to kill me, Donald," +he said. "You won't take +her out of here without killing +me, I promise you that, and +what will that do to your future? +A man from the future +killing somebody here? Oh, no, +that'll upset everything. And +before I've become famous? +Your whole history will be +changed. You'd better think +twice, Donald."</p> + +<p>The gun wavered, and lowered.</p> + +<p>"Would you care for a martini, +Donald, dear?" Mimi +asked.</p> + +<p>Donald turned and ran from +the room. They heard his feet +slipping down the stairs, they +heard the front door slam behind +him.</p> + +<p>Victor started after him, +but Mimi held him back. +"What are you going to do," +she cried, "chase after him? +What will you do when you +catch him? You're needed +more here. After all," she continued, +"think what I just +went through? I'm a nervous +wreck, almost getting carted +off to God knows where like +that. I need the care of a competent +physician."</p> + +<p>He turned back to her in a +daze, she clucked and patted +his cheek, and pushed him +down onto the bed. She pulled +out his handkerchief and mopped +his face. "Aren't you +proud of me?" she said. +"Wasn't that fast thinking? +How did you like that little +story I told? It really threw +him, didn't it? He didn't know +<i>what</i> to think."</p> + +<p>"You mean," Victor stammered, +"you mean you didn't +mean it, you just made it up? +Just like that?"</p> + +<p>"Darling," she began to +giggle, "you didn't bel<i>ieve</i> +that wild story? About the future? +Oh, <i>darling</i>, you couldn't +possibly believe it."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," he said. +"Of course not. Quick thinking, +Mimi, yes, very quick +thinking. It <i>was</i> a convincing +story, you know. Very +good. But, my God! I've got to +catch him."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly," she said, +pushing him down. "You'll +never find him, you'll never +see him again. He'll be lost in +the crowd. One more screwball +in New York, they'll never +notice him. He'll fit right in. +He may even become President +some day, or at least +Dean of Students at some +small New England College. +You just take my word for it, +darling, and relax a moment. +I'll rush downstairs and bring +you up a martini. We deserve +one. He'll be all right now. As +long as he's made up his mind +that he can leave me here, +he'll trot off somewhere and +dig up another neurosis, or +psychosis, or whatever. He's +not dangerous anymore. And +you heard him say we were +never married, and we have +no marriage certificate, so I +guess we're not. Can't we just +forget about him, just as if he +never existed? Maybe he +never <i>did</i> exist. Maybe he was +just a figment of our imagination. +Maybe he was just an instrument +of kismet to bring us +together. Maybe he was just a +wandering minstrel, or a +memory looking for a chance +to be real?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd better not +talk so much, but just bring +up the martini. Better bring +a pitcher. Green ones."</p> + +<p>And so she did. Their first +honeymoon they spent in Bermuda; +they took their second +on a trip to Sweden ten years +later, when Victor went to accept +his first Nobel prize.</p> + +<p class="hd2"><b>THE END</b></p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/001-2.jpg"><img src="images/001-1.jpg" width="140" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><b><big>Transcriber's Note:</big></b></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Science Fiction Stories</i> April 1960. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of You Don't Make Wine Like the Greeks Did, by +David E. 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Fisher + +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: You Don't Make Wine Like the Greeks Did + +Author: David E. Fisher + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: April 6, 2010 [EBook #31897] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU DON'T MAKE WINE LIKE GREEKS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _"Every century has its advantages and its drawbacks," he said. + "We, for instance, have bred out sexual desire. And, as for you + people ..."_ + + + YOU DON'T MAKE WINE + LIKE THE GREEKS DID + +By DAVID E. FISHER + +ILLUSTRATED by SUMMERS + + +On the sixty-third floor of the Empire State Building is, among others +of its type, a rather small office consisting of two rooms connected by +a stout wooden door. The room into which the office door, which is of +opaque glass, opens, is the smaller of the two and serves to house a +receptionist, three not-too-comfortable armchairs, and a disorderly, +homogeneous mixture of _Life's_, _Look's_ and _New Yorker's_. + +[Illustration: Donald was determined to make Mimi go back to their +world--dead or alive!] + +The receptionist is a young woman, half-heartedly pretty but certainly +chic in the manner of New York's women in general and of its working +women in particular, perhaps in her middle twenties, with a paucity of +golden hair which is kept clinging rather back on her skull by an +intricate network of tortoise-shell combs and invisible pins. She is +engaged to a man who is in turn engaged in a position for an advertising +firm just thirty-seven stories directly below her. Her name is Margaret. +She often, in periods when the immediate consummation of the work on her +desk is not of paramount importance, as is often the case, gazes +somnolently at the floor beside her large walnut desk, hoping to catch a +lurking image of her beloved only thirty-seven stories away. She rarely +succeeds in viewing him through the intervening spaces, but she does not +tire of trying; it is a pleasant enough diversion. There is an +electronics firm just five stories above her fiance, and perhaps, she +reasons, there is interference of a sort here. Someday maybe she will +catch them with all their tubes off. Margaret is a romantic, but she is +engaged and thus is entitled. + + * * * * * + +Beyond the entrance that is guarded by the stout wooden door is a larger +room, darker, quieter, one step more removed from the hurrying hallway. +A massive but neat desk is placed before the one set of windows, the +blinds of which are kept closed but tilted toward the sky so that an +aura of pale light is continually seeping through. The main illumination +comes from several lamps placed in strategic corners, their bulbs turned +away from the occupants of the room. + +To one side of the desk is a comfortable-looking deep chair, with +leather arms and a back quite high enough to support one's head. In +front of this is the traditional couch, armless but well-upholstered and +comfortable. At the moment Dr. Victor Quink was sitting not in the deep +chair but in the swivel chair behind the desk. His glasses were lying on +the desk next to his feet, the chair was pushed back as far as it might +safely be, his arms were stretched out to their extremity, and his mouth +was straining open, as if to split his cheeks. Dr. Quink was yawning. + +His method of quick relaxation was that of the blank mind; he was at +this very moment forcibly evicting all vestiges of thought from his +head; he was concentrating intently on black, on depth, on absolute +silence. He was able to maintain this discipline for perhaps a second, +or a second and a half at most, and then his mind began, imperceptibly +at the first, to slip off along a path of its own liking, leading Dr. +Quink quietly and unprotestingly along. The path is narrow, crinkly, +bending back upon itself. It is not a path for vehicles, but one worn by +a single pair of boots, plodding patiently, slowly, wearily. The path +runs, or creeps, through a wild and desolate district where hardly more +than a single blade of grass shoots up at random from the bottomless +drift-sand. Instead of the garden that normally embellishes a castle +(there is in the vague distance a blurred castle), the fortified walls +are approached on the landward side by a scant forest of firs, on the +other by the snow-swept Baltic Sea. Spanish moss hangs limply from the +evergrays, disdainful of the sun and of its reflection by sea; the +scene is somber and restful, serene, and flat. + +The buzzer rang once, twice. + +Dr. Quink brought his feet down to their more dignified position, out of +sight beneath his desk. His conscious once more took hold of his mind, +only vaguely aware that it had not been able to achieve the incognito +serenity it sought. He put on his glasses and the heavy wooden door +opened and a man walked through. + + * * * * * + +He carried his hat in both hands, he was nervous, he was out of his +element. He looked to both sides as he came past the doorway, and when +Margaret closed the door behind him he jumped, though nearly +imperceptibly, and advanced toward the desk. "I'm not sure at all I +should have come here," he said. + +Dr. Quink nodded, but said nothing. He judged the man to be on the order +of thirty or thirty-one. His hair was black, curly, and sparse; perhaps +balding, perhaps not. + +"You see, I can't be quite candid with you. Nothing personal, of course. +It just ... Oh, this is frightfully embarrassing," he said, taking a +seat before the desk at Dr. Quink's waved invitation. "I just thought +that perhaps, even without knowing all the details, you might be able to +effect merely a _tempo_rary cure. So that I can get her back home, to +our _own_ doctors. Nothing personal, of course. I do hope I don't offend +you." + +"Not at all, I assure you," Dr. Quink assured him. "Just whom did you +mean by her?" + +"Why, my wife." He looked at Quink quizzically for a moment, then with +sudden fresh embarrassment. "Oh, of course. You naturally assume that it +was _I_ who is ... um, in need of treatment. No, no, you couldn't be +more wrong. No, it is my wife. Yes, I've come to see you on her account. +You see, of course, she wouldn't come herself. Ah, this is rather +awkward, I'm afraid." + +"Not at all," Quink answered. "If you would just tell me what your +wife's trouble is?" + +"Yes, of course. You have to know that, at least, don't you? I mean, do +you? You couldn't possibly just treat her on general principles, so to +speak, without being told of the immediate symptoms? You don't, I take +it, have any technique that would correspond to penicillin, and just +sort of clear things up in her head at random?" + +Dr. Quink assured him that it was necessary, in psychiatry at least, to +determine the disease before curing it. + +"I suppose so," the gentleman said. "Incidentally, my name is Fairfield. +Donald Fairfield. Did I mention that? But of course, you have all that +on your little card there, don't you? Yes, I thought so. I do hope your +secretary's handwriting is legible, it doesn't seem so from this angle. +By the way, did you know that she is prone to staring at the floor? A +spot right next to her desk. The right-hand side. I think I never should +have come here." + +Dr. Quink reassured him that he was free to leave at any moment, never +to return. By a longish glance at the wall clock, in fact, Dr. Quink +gave him to understand that he might do so with no hard feelings left +behind. Mr. Fairfield, however, gathered his resources and plunged +forward. + + * * * * * + +"I think you'll find this a rather interesting case, Doctor. Most +unusual. Of course, I have little notion of the variety of situations +one comes into contact with in your line of work, still I have every +reason to believe this will come as a bit of a shock. I wonder just how +dogmatic you are in your convictions?" + +Dr. Quink raised his eyebrows and made no answer; he was desperately +stifling a yawn. + +"I mean no intrusion on your religious life, by any means. Not at all. +No, that is the furthest thought from my mind, I assure you. No, I am +concerned at the moment with my wife's problems, meaning no disrespect +to yourself at all, sir. I merely asked, not out of idle curiosity, but +because ... Doctor, I suppose there's no way for it but to explain." He +gestured with his hat toward the desk calendar between him and Quink. +"This is the year 1959, correct? Well, you see, sir, the fact of the +matter is that I just wasn't _born_ in 1959." + +He stopped there, and the room relapsed into silence. + +Dr. Quink looked at him for a few moments, but no explanatory statement +was forthcoming. Dr. Quink removed his eyeglasses, opened his left +drawer two from the top, removed a white wiper, and wiped his glasses +carefully. Mr. Fairfield waited patiently. Dr. Quink replaced the +glasses. He leaned forward across the desk. + +"Mr. Fairfield," he said, "this may come as some shock to you, but _I_ +wasn't born this year either." + +"You don't understand," Mr. Fairfield wailed. "Oh, I just _knew_ I +shouldn't have come. When I say I wasn't _born_--" + +He stopped, at a loss to explain. He wrung his hat in his hands until it +was crumpled probably beyond repair. Then he jumped up, pushed it onto +his head, and quickly walked out of the office. As his back disappeared +from the doorway Margaret's head poked up in its place. She looked quite +startled. + +"It's all right, Margaret," Victor Quink said. "He was just a bit upset. +You get all kinds in here. This one claimed there's something abnormal +with his _wife_. Better leave an hour free tomorrow. He'll come back." + +But he didn't. + + * * * * * + +He didn't come back during the following three weeks, then one afternoon +Margaret ushered him through the doorway. He walked to the chair before +the desk, looking neither at the doctor nor to the right nor left, and +sat down, holding his hat in his hands. + +"My wife believes she's just," he waved his hat vaguely toward the +shielded window, "just like everybody else here." + +"And isn't she?" Doctor Quink queried, with the patience due his +profession. + +"No, she isn't. But she's forgotten. She hasn't _really_ forgotten. I +don't know your technical terminology; she refuses to remember. Oh, +_you_ know. Her subconscious, or unconscious, or whatever, is blinding +her. She won't face reality. And it's time for us to go back. But she +won't budge. She claims she's normal, and I'm the one who's crazy. In +fact, she was very happy that I was coming to see you today. I _told_ +her I was going to see you, but she persisted in insisting that I was +coming here because _I_ needed help. She said I'm coming to you because +subconsciously I know I need you. Well, enough of that. I'm here because +we have to go home, and if you could just make her face life long enough +to admit that, I'm sure that when we do get home our doctors will have +no difficulty with her case. It won't be so bizarre to them, of course, +as it must seem to you." + +"Frankly, Mr. Fairfield," Dr. Quink said, "you're not being entirely +clear in this matter. First of all, you say you have to go home. You're +not a native of New York then?" + +"A native? How quaintly you put it, Doctor. You might better say a +savage, mightn't you? But that's neither here nor there. I am, of +course, a native, as you say, of New York. I thought I explained last +time. I am simply not of this _time_." + + * * * * * + +Doctor Quink slowly shook his shaggy head. "I'm afraid the precise +meaning of your phrase escapes me, Mr. Fairfield." + +"I am not of this _time_, Doctor. Nor is my wife. We are from ... well, +from the future." + +"From very _far_ in the future?" Quink asked quietly. + +"Quite far. I'm not sure just exactly _how_ far. Systems of time +measurement have changed, you understand, between our time and this, so +that the calculations become rather involved, though, of course, only +superficially." + +"Of course. Quite understandable." + +"Quite. You _are_ being understanding about this. Much better than I had +hoped for, actually. At any rate, let's get on with it. For some obscure +reason my wife has fled reality, and now that our vacation is up she +refuses to return with me, stating flatly that she has never, to make a +long story short, traveled through time--except, of course, at the +normal velocity with which we all progress in the course of things--and +that it is I who am out of my head and though, while not actually +troublesome, it would be thoughtful of me to see a doctor or at least to +shut up about this nonsense before the neighbors hear me. Could you see +her tomorrow evening? She'd never come here, feeling as she does, but I +thought if you would come to dinner you might hypnotize her unawares +or--" + +"I don't think that's feasible under the circum--" + +"Isn't it really? I'm afraid I don't know much about this sort of thing. +I'm quite helpless in this affair, really. I assure you I was driven to +desperation to tell you all this; I mean, you must understand that +absolute silence, secrecy, that is, is our most absolute sacred rule. +Perhaps you could just slip something into her drink, knock her out, so +to speak, and I could then bodily take her back--" + +"Mr. Fairfield," Dr. Quink felt it necessary to interrupt, "you must +understand that it would not be ethical for me to do as you suggest. Now +it seems to me that the essence of your wife's peculiarity lies in her +relationship with you, her husband. So if you don't mind, perhaps we +might talk about you for a while. It might be more comfortable for you +on the couch. Please, it doesn't obligate you in any way. Yes, that's +much better, isn't it. And I'll sit here, if I may. Now, then, go on, +just tell me all about yourself. Go on just start talking. You'll find +it'll come by itself after you get started." + + * * * * * + +"I suppose I asked for this. I mean, coming here as I did. I don't know +what else I could have done, though. They prepare one for every +emergency, as well, of course, as one can foresee the future, which is +in this case actually the past, speaking chronologically. Your +chronology, that is, not ours. I'm sure you follow me, though it seems +to me I'm talking in circles. Are we accomplishing very much, do you +think?" + +"We mustn't be impatient," Dr. Quink said. "These things come slowly, +they take time, if you'll pardon the expression. But of course, it's +impudent of _me_ to lecture _you_ on temporal effects." + +"Not at all, not at all, I assure you. I am no expert on the time +continuum, no expert in the slightest. I daresay I don't understand the +most basic principles behind it, just as you aren't required to +understand electromagnetic theory in order to flick on the electric +light. In fact, I believe it wasn't even necessary for Edison to +understand it in order to invent the damned thing." + +"You know about Edison then?" + +"Oh, certainly. I've studied up quite a bit on this section of our +history." + +"You're sure," Dr. Quink went on, "that you simply didn't learn about +Edison in grammar school?" + +"Quite. Oh, yes, quite. No offense meant, sir, but you must certainly +realize that between my time and this there have been a great many +discoveries in the manifold fields embraced by science, so that people +who in your own time were famous to schoolchildren are now, then, that +is,--oh, I hope you know what I mean--known only to scholars of the +period involved. In the time to which I belong the schoolchildren may +know of Newton, Einstein and Fisher, but of such lesser luminaries as +Edison, or even Avogadro or Galdeen, they are quite ignorant." + +"Galdeen?" + +"Yes, Galdeen. Surely you know of Galdeen. Perhaps I'm mispronouncing +it. Oh, damn. I'm actually rather proud of my knowledge of your +histories, I hate to be tripped up on something like this. Galineed, +perhaps?" + +"Well, it's not worth bothering about." + +"Damned annoying, just the same. It's on the tip of my tongue. Galeel?" + +"Would you mind very much if we went on to some other subject? I don't +think we're gaining much right here." + + * * * * * + +"You're the doctor, you know," Fairfield replied. "I was just explaining +how I knew about Edison, though I never attended grammar school in this +century. So, then, where were we? You asked me to tell you about myself, +didn't you? You know, I'd much rather you told me about yourself." +Fairfield suddenly sat upright on the couch, drew his legs up to his +chest, crossed his ankles, and hugged his knees. "I was noticing that +picture you have hanging on the wall," he said. "The sea, la mer, das +Weltmeer, te misralub, et cetera. The roaring, crashing waves, the +bubbling, foaming spray. The deep dank mystery of the green wet sea. +Marvelous, marvelous. Do you indulge in sex? I mean you, personally, of +course, not as a representative of your species." + +Victor Quink laid down his pad in his lap. "I'm not married, Mr. +Fairfield," he said. "Do you often ask such questions of people you've +recently met?" + +"The sun came up this morning, Dr. Quink," Fairfield answered jovially, +"the sun came up. You'll pardon my answer, of course, I was merely +trying to top your own non sequitur. Many of your people do indulge, +you know. In fact, it would seem, from my own necessarily limited +observations, that it is more universal in its appeal than any of your +other sports. Do you classify it as a sport? It's amazing, really, how +these simple connections escape one until one tries to formulate one's +recollections into a consistent line of reasoning. Have you ever +noticed? Of course, though, you do it for procreation, don't you? _Now_ +I mean you as a representative of your species, naturally. Seeing as you +are not married, eh, doctor," and he winked at Quink. "It seems to me, +however, and again I insist that I am no expert in the field, however +it does seem to me that this matter of procreation is in many cases +just an excuse; there seems to be an inherent taste for mating per se, +or wouldn't you agree?" + +"You seem to take a disinterested view of the whole business, Mr. +Fairfield. Do _you_, ah, indulge?" + +"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. I couldn't, thank you just the same. I'm +really flattered, believe me I am, but thank you, no." + +"That was _not_ an invitation, Mr. Fairfield," Dr. Quink put in, "I was +trying to--" + +"Galui?" + +"Mr. Fairfield, I was trying to ascertain whether or not you lead an +active sex life, or whether your interest is purely, shall we say, +metaphysical?" + +"Yes, let's do say metaphysical. Rather clever of you, applying the term +to sex that way. My estimation of your capabilities shoots up a notch or +two, Dr. Quink." + +"You mean to say," Dr. Quink kept up, "that you do not participate in +the physical ramifications?" + +"Oh, you _do_ have a turn for words, Doctor. No, of course not. None of +us do." + +"By _us_ you mean your cohorts in the future?" + +"Exactly. You have an analytical mind, keen, keen. We do not die, we do +not give birth. And I never would have brought the whole morbid subject +up except that it has a direct bearing on Mimi's trouble. So it is +necessary that you realize that sex is entirely foreign to us." + +"Then," said Dr. Quink, "if what you say is true, your physical, let us +say, equipment, must have degenerated. And so a simple physical +examination--" + +"Evolution is slow, my doctor, slow, slow, slow. No, I'm physically +indistinguishable from you. Assuming normalcy on your part, of course. +To continue along this train of thought, though, it is the mental +process that provides the difference. There is no desire in me or mine, +Doctor, no urge, no depravity, no sexual hunger. It simply died out over +the eons." + +"Since it was no longer necessary," Quink prodded him. + +"Or vice versa. With the urge dying, it might have been necessary for us +to circumvent the entire business. An academic question, really. The +chicken or the egg all over again. But since we have conquered time, so +to speak, it must have occurred to you that there is no need for us to +die, and thus no need for birth." + +"You are immortal, then," Dr. Quink said, scribbling in his note pad. + +Mr. Fairfield shrugged. "It beats sex. Which brings us to the problem we +are discussing, if we can forget myself for a few moments. Mimi seems to +have been awakened to the sexual urge, and that provides an embarrassing +situation. Of course, its real significance is in relation to her +problem as a whole, in the illumination it sheds upon her neurosis, yet +in itself it is, as I say, embarrassing. Coupled with my complete +indifference, I mean. Have you any plans for this evening? Perhaps you +could dine with us without delay?" + + * * * * * + +Dr. Quink would not ordinarily have accepted such an invitation, being +of that class of physician which believes a disease, be it physical or +mental, best treated in the antiseptic confines of the office or +hospital. Mr. Fairfield, however, struck him as being the altogether +unprepossessing possessor of an altogether distinguished psychosis. He +was, in fact, rapidly supplanting in Dr. Quink's estimation his previous +favorite. Already Dr. Quink was writing, mentally of course, the +introduction to the paper he would present to his professional journal. + +Throughout the automobile ride out to Long Island Donald Fairfield was +quiet as, both hands tightly on the steering wheel of his new Buick, he +alternately fought and coasted with the east-bound traffic. Dr. Quink +forced himself to relax, to ignore the ins and outs of the commuters' +raceway. He folded his arms across his chest, slumped down in his seat +with his legs stretched out as far as they would reach, and observed the +facial contortions of his driver-patient. + +Fairfield's lips would twitch as he twisted the wheel and shot into the +left lane. His foot pressed down on the gas and the right corner of his +lip pulled back in sneering response, the sudden surge of the Buick +seemed intimately linked to one muscular act no more than to the other. +His eyebrows pressed intensely together, caressing one another, as the +big car whipped back into line. A sharp outlet of breath between tightly +clenched teeth preceded the sharper blast of the horn and then the Buick +was swerving out to the left again with the accompanying lip twitch. A +car they were about to pass pulled out in front of them, initiating a +spasmodic clutching of the wheel by the left hand, a furious pounding on +the horn by the right, and a synchronized twitch, sneer, and muttered +"goddam it" from the lips, repeated twice while the eyebrows maintained +their position of togetherness. + +Dr. Quink closed his eyes finally. There was nothing more to be gained +at the moment from observation. The patient's responses while driving +were normal. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Fairfield greeted them at the door with a martini pitcher in one +hand and a modernistically designed apron around her waist. She uttered +little squeals about them being early and ushered them into the living +room where she settled Dr. Quink on one end of an eight-foot powder blue +divan before she left the room with the martini pitcher still clutched +tightly in the one hand, the other rapidly undoing the apron of +modernistic design. Donald Fairfield had not said one word since the +front door had opened in response to their ring; none had seemed to have +been necessary nor, in fact, possible, under the deluge of Mrs. +Fairfield's effusive greeting. Now he sat in the tilted green armchair +in one corner of the room and, closing his eyes, relaxed from the strain +of the drive. + +"Your wife is very pretty," Dr. Quink said. + +"Yes, she's probably the most beautiful woman I know," Fairfield said. +"That's probably why I took her along. There's something about a +beautiful woman.... It was certainly a mistake." + +"Feminine beauty is enjoyable even though you don't indulge in sex?" + +"Of course, it is," he replied, with a gesture of annoyance. "You're +still bound by that Freed--Freud, is it?--of yours. Damn him. That's +really the main reason I hesitated so long before I brought her case to +you. I was afraid you were going to place too much emphasis on the +sexual aspects which, of course, by your standards are abnormal. It has +really nothing to do with the problem, and I wish you'd forget about it, +but I suppose you can't. To you, her sexual instincts will be normal and +it will be _mine_ which will appear abnormal, whereas in reality, of +course, it's the other way around. You'll never cure her, I can see that +now. But then, you don't have to really _cure_ her. If you can just get +her to admit the truth for just a moment or two, just temporarily, I can +get her back to some really competent men. No reflection on your ability +meant, you know. I realize you're the best available in this age, +naturally." + +"Naturally." + +"But you can't know that, can you? Well, take my word for it, you are. +So suppose you start acting like it and get to work on her, eh? Could it +be Gilui? No." + +Dr. Quink bent over and tied his shoelace once or twice before he +replied. He would have to talk to Mrs. Fairfield in private, of course, +Mr. Fairfield could understand that, of course, it was not that Dr. +Quink did not want Mr. Fairfield around when the discussion took place +but simply that one could not achieve rapport without absolute +confidence and, of course, privacy. + +"Of course," Mr. Fairfield agreed. "I'll go up and shower now, perhaps +I'll take a bit of a nap before dinner. I'd like to avoid that horrible +liquid she was stirring up when we came in anyhow. Somewhere she's +picked up the idea that one should offer those things to dinner guests, +and I can't stand them. Will you want a pen and some notepaper?" + +When he had left the room to tread up the stairs one at a time, leaning +heavily on the cast-iron bannister but making no sound on the +wall-to-wall carpeting, Dr. Quink leaned back and had barely time to +pass his hand wearily over his eyes in a circular motion that he found +soothing when Mrs. Fairfield entered from behind a swinging door bearing +a small circular tray on which were balanced the aforementioned martini +pitcher and two high-stemmed glasses, properly frosted and rounded with +lemon. + +"Has he left already?" she asked. "Well, shall we get right down to +business? You call me Mimi and I'll call you Victor. What did you think +of his story? Pretty wild, isn't it? But he's harmless, I'm sure. I'm +not in the least bit afraid of him. Do you think I should be?" + + * * * * * + +Victor smiled and accepted the proffered martini. He cradled it in long +fingers and, elbows on knees, contemplated his hostess, analyzing her +physical attraction. He finally decided it emanated in the main from her +almond-shaped eyes and in their somewhat mystical synchronization with +her wide, sensual lips. There was definitely a disconcerting +correlation between them when she smiled, and as he was studying this +phenomenon he realized that of course she _was_ smiling. + +"I'm sorry," he said. "It was rude of me to stare." + +"Don't be silly," she said. "It was most complimentary. But I suppose in +your position it's best to be extremely careful." + +"My position?" + +"Flirting with your patient's wife." + + * * * * * + +He put down the martini rather too quickly, sploshing a bit over the +edges of the glass, leaving colorless stains that evaporated in a few +moments. "I don't want you to think _that_, Mrs. Fairfield," he said. +"It's just that ... that ..." + +But she didn't interrupt him to say, "Of course not," or "I was just +teasing," or "Isn't it amazing how little rain we've had lately. Did you +realize that this is the driest November in sixteen and a half years?" +She just stared and smiled at him, and let him flounder and make noises +until he gave it up as a bad job and took a long drink from the frosted +glass he had so recently and abruptly put down. She refilled his glass +and leaned back in her chair. + +"Could you tell me about him, Mrs. Fairfield?" he said then. "Start as +far back as you can, please." + +"All right, Victor," she said. "But it won't be much help, I'm afraid. +Did he tell you he came from the future?" + +"He said that both of you did." + +"Yes, that's right. Both of us. And I refuse to go back, is that it?" + +"Because of some deep-seated neurosis which he wants me to cure. His +story is plausible, logical, once you grant the basic premise that time +travel is an actuality. You see, Mrs. Fairfield--" + +"Mimi, please, Victor. After all, we're not in your office, and I'm not +really your patient, am I? Or am I?" + +"Of course not. Well, Mimi, then, the first step is to break down his +story. Show him for once and all that it is _not_ plausible, that it is +not even possible, that it is plainly and simply a lie which he himself +has made up to hide something that he is afraid of. Once we can get him +to see this, or at least to wonder about it, once we can break the +granite assurance of his that he comes from another time, then perhaps +we can probe into his festering secret. But we can't do that, I'm +afraid, until he begins to admit, at least to himself, that he _is_ sick +and that he needs help. In this case it shouldn't be too hard." + +"My, you _are_ brilliant. I wonder how you do it. Oh, you shouldn't gulp +a martini so quickly. Here, let me pour you some more, but sip it this +time. I know, I can't stand the taste either, but it's really the only +way." + +"Mrs. Fairfield--" + +"Mimi," she insisted. + +"Mimi," he said, then hesitated. + +"Mimi," she prompted. + +"I forgot what I was going to say," he admitted. "Cheers." + +"Don't gulp," she said. "Here, I'll pour you another one, but sip it, +now promise." + +"God, it does taste awful, doesn't it?" he said, grimacing. "I don't +think I ever _tasted_ one before. Do you think limes might help?" + +"We have some in the kitchen, but it doesn't sound like a good idea to +me. Why don't we just throw the mess away and whip up something else? I +just wanted you to think I was chic this season to serve mar_tin_is." + +"What season? Football?" + +"Hunting," she said, and the eyes and lips smiled together again. + +"Mimi," Victor said a bit pompously, standing up and leaning over her, +"I hope you are not flirting with me. You are, remember, a married woman +and are, in fact, married to a patient of mine." + +"First of all," she said, "you're being pompous. Second of all, he's not +your patient, he says I'm your patient. Third of all, I'm not married to +him. And fourth, of all ... is it fourth or fifth ... well anyway, +fourth or fifth of all, let's try the limes. We've nothing to lose, it +couldn't taste worse." + + * * * * * + +"First of all," he said, following her to the kitchen, "I am never +pompous. Second of all, he _is_ my patient because he came to my office +obviously seeking psychiatric help but too sick to ask for it. I feel it +only my duty to help him and besides, his case is fascinating." + +"And his wife isn't, I suppose," she said over her shoulder. + +"Third of all," he said, "and I ignore the interruption, what the hell +do you mean you're not married to him? And fourth of all, it is fourth, +not fifth, I think the limes will help immeasurably." + +"Well, I think it all comes back to your original question. You know, +about telling you all about him, and how it started, and all that. You +see, I can't, because I don't remember. Here, you cut the limes while I +look for the squeezer." + + * * * * * + +While Dr. Quink was cutting the limes he didn't exactly talk to himself, +but thoughts did present themselves to his mind with very nearly verbal +exactitude. The immediate progression towards a solution of this case +did not seem to be so clearly cut out as he had assumed it would be. +There were, it now became more and more obvious, complications he had +not foreseen. Mrs. Fairfield was not exactly acting toward him as a +psychiatrist normally expects the wife of a patient to, so that, +although he found her pleasant and indeed invigorating, if that is the +word and he was not sure that it was but the only alternative that came +to his mind, stimulating, had connotations that he was not yet ready to +accept, although he did find her pleasant and et cetera yet he found her +behavior also disturbing, in the clinical sense this time, and the +revelation as to her distinctly limited memory should be described not +as a disturbance but as a downright earthquake, to ring in a +seismological metaphor that occurred to him as he nicked his finger +during the slicing of the fourth lime. + +"Oh, did you cut yourself?" she said, straightening up from the lower +shelves of a pine cupboard. "I'm so sorry, but never mind. Here's the +squeezer." + +The apparent non sequitur, coming in the midst of his thoughts that were +already confused, bewildered him for the moment, but he felt it would be +more fruitful to get back to the problem at hand and, blotting his +seeping blood with a handkerchief, he inquired after her reticent +memory. + +"Oh, let's mix in the lime juice first. Aren't you at all anxious to see +how it will taste? Honestly, men have no curiosity." + +Well, as it turned out, it tasted pretty good. At any rate, that was the +consensus of opinion, alcoholic as it might have been, as they returned +with the pitcher of green martinis to the living room. "The furthest +back that I can remember," Mimi said after they had settled themselves +on the divan, "the absolutely first thing I can remember is relieving my +bladder, if that makes any sense to you." + +"As a matter of fact," Victor said, "it makes extremely good sense +indeed. If you will pardon me and kindly direct me towards the wash +room?" + + * * * * * + +When he returned after an absence of a few minutes, during which time +the muted sound of snoring emanated from the master bedroom into the +silence left by his absence, he attempted once again to take up the +thread of conversation that had been so abruptly snapped. "You were +telling me, I believe, about the first thing you can remember." + +"Yes," she said. "Have another martini. Here, I'll pour. I was on a +train, you see, at this moment when my memory begins. It was, by the +way, eight months ago. As I emerged from the ladies' room I could not +remember from which direction I had come. That is, I didn't know in +which direction my seat was, if you follow me." + +Victor nodded more vigorously than he had intended, and she went on. "I +didn't know whether to turn to right or left. That's a frightening +feeling to have in a train, not knowing where your seat is, when you're +all closed in anyhow and you can feel the floor beneath your feet and +the walls and ceiling all rushing somewhere so terribly fast and +carrying you with it and all. I wasn't really _frightened_, you +understand, but anyway, as I say, it's a terrible feeling. So I leaned +back against the wall and tried to collect my wits. But I couldn't think +of anything. That really frightened me. So I said to myself, now just +relax and think back to where you're going and when you got on the train +and who you're with and everything like that and just relax and you'll +remember where your seat is in half a moment. But I didn't. Remember, I +mean. And suddenly I realized that I didn't remember where I was going +or who I was with or when I had got on the train or anything, anything +at all. I simply couldn't remember anything previous to a moment ago. I +was scared silly by this time, and that damned train kept on rumbling +and shaking and rushing on into I didn't know what. So I said to myself, +now just relax and keep calm. This is all very silly. Now, then, I said +after taking two deep breaths and exhaling slowly, my name is ... my +name is ... And by God, I didn't know my own name! It was such a queer +feeling I got goose pimples all over, just like that. I mean, I felt as +if I knew my name, it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't +say it, I just couldn't remember my own name. + +"Then I began to run. I didn't know where I was going but I was scared +to hell and I just ran. I ran through five or six cars and the panic +kept getting worse, and then I turned around and began running back the +way I had come, just running as fast as I could and you know what that's +like on a train, I kept falling against people and pushing them off and +running and suddenly this man grabbed me and said, 'Mimi, Mimi,' he kept +saying that and I guess some more and finally he calmed me down and, of +course, it was Donald. He told me I was all right and to be quiet and +what the hell was the matter with me anyhow. Well, to make a long story +short, we got off the train here and stayed in a hotel for a while and +then Donald bought this place and here we are. But I don't know if I'm +really his wife or not. Did he mention sex to you?" + +Victor nodded and she said, "So you know I'm not his wife _that_ way, at +least. And I have only his word that we were ever married." + +"You don't have a marriage certificate, or pictures?" + +"We don't have anything that would prove our existence prior to that +date we were on the train. Naturally, he'd have left all that behind +when we left wherever we were coming from. Any documents at all would +ruin his story. For all I know he just picked me up at the train +station." + +"And you just picked up life here?" Victor asked. "As simple as that!" + +"What else could I do? I was terribly frightened, and Donald was so calm +and assuring. I didn't really think I had lost my memory, you know. I +mean, I _couldn't_ believe it. I didn't seem bewildered or anything, I +just could not remember anything. Am I making sense? Anyway, I felt it +would all come back to me any moment, and I went on living from one +moment to another, and here I am and I still can't remember anything." + + * * * * * + +"What was Donald's reaction when you told him you didn't know who you +were?" Victor asked her. + +"As a matter of fact, I didn't tell him right away. I was so afraid, I +just went along with him.... Oh, it's so hard to explain." + +"He didn't realize that you were acting strange, bewildered?" + +"Well, you know," Mimi said, "we're not talking about a normal man, +remember. I suppose if I acted sort of, you know, lost, he attributed it +to our recent trip through time. _I_ don't know. Anyhow, he seemed to +accept me." + +"Let's get back to this time-travel bit. When did you realize that he +thought you had both come from another time?" + +"The limes really make the drink, don't they?" she asked. "Well, it came +out sort of gradually. I'd listen to him really closely whenever he +talked about the past, naturally. I was trying to find out about me +without telling him, I thought he'd get all excited and all, and of +course he did when I finally told him but by then it was all so +different and I'm afraid I've gotten confused. Where was I? Oh, you need +a refill." + +"Thank you," Victor said, "I forget myself exactly where it was you +were. Is that right? Where you was it were? No, I'm sure _that's_ wrong. +Where were you it was, I think. Does that sound better to you?" + +"Isn't that peculiar?" she answered. "Could it be where I was you +weren't? No, now I'm being silly, and I can't for the life of me +understand why. After all, this is a serious affair. Or at least I wish +it were. Was." + +"What?" + +"I remember, damn it," she said. "We were talking about _Don_ald again. +Well, he kept making these remarks about coming through time and of +course I didn't understand what the hell he was talking about but I +thought because of my not remembering anything and all that I better +just not say anything so I didn't, but he kept on and little by little I +got the idea, the general idea anyhow, but what on earth could I do +about it? And then he started talking about it was time to go back and +all that, and I _cer_tainly wasn't going to go floating off in any old +_time_ machine whether he was nuts or not, so I just kept putting +him off the best I could but he started getting so impatient that +finally--what was that? I think there's something wrong." + + * * * * * + +They both sat suddenly quite still and listened, but they heard nothing. + +"I hear nothing," Victor said. + +"That's it," Mimi hissed. "He's not snoring anymore. He'll be here any +minute. Act natural. Have another martini." + +"Thank you, perhaps just one more," Victor said as Donald Fairfield came +into the room. + + * * * * * + +He strode across the room crossing in front of them without turning his +head or acknowledging their presence and made straight for the buffet in +the opposite corner. He bent over and extracted a thick black cigar, +struck a match, lit the cigar, puffed several times, dropped the match +into a gigantic ashtray made of marble, or something that looked like +marble, puffed several more times, finally inhaled deeply and exhaled +slowly before he turned and nodded at his two spectators. "You make +better cigars than we do, I'll say that for the twentieth century," he +complimented Victor in the manner of all tourists, as if Victor himself +were the cause and not the product of his age. "One of the mysteries of +history," he continued, "how a simple technique, like making a good +cigar or a good mummy, can be lost once it's been perfected. Always +seems to be though. Each age has its secrets. You can't make wine now +like the ancient Greeks did." + +"As," Mimi interpolated. "As the Greeks did." + +"I hate to be bombastic," Donald answered her, "not to say dogmatic or +pedagogical, or impecunious too, for that matter, at least in this +particular day and age, but I believe my original adjectival usage to be +the correct one." + +"If your thought had called for an adjective," Mimi countered, "but +properly, according to the accepted grammar of the present day, that is, +you should have used an adverb." + +"Whatchamacallit tastes good _like_ a dum-dum cigarette should," Victor +put in, in an attempt to settle the subject. + +"That's ridiculous," Donald answered, "it's completely wrong." + +"I _know_ it's wrong," Victor cried, "that's the point, _every_body +knows it's--" + +"Of course it is," Mimi agreed. "Why on earth _should_ a cigarette taste +good? Who says it should? If one wants to taste something good, why then +one takes a bite of cake, or a smidgin of candy, or a plate of cold +borscht. If one cares for borscht. But you certainly don't smoke a +cigarette to taste something good, they all taste horrible. Horribly? Oh +damn, look what you started, Donald. Now I can't think straight. +Anyhow, people smoke because of the phallic symbolism, right, Victor?" + +Donald looked with distaste from Mimi to the big black cigar he was +holding in his right hand, and thence to Victor for a denial. Victor, +however, shrugged his shoulders, and murmured something to the effect +that this consideration might possibly have some bearing on the subject, +that it was really a matter of interest more to the applied +psychologists and advertising men than to the pure scientist or doctor, +and that even so it didn't necessarily follow that-- + +"You're hedging," Mimi said. "All you have to do is watch a woman smoke +and then watch a man and--" + +"I thought we were talking about wine," Donald interrupted, crushing out +his cigar in the oversize marble, or nearly so, ashtray. "What were we +saying about it?" + +"You were commenting on the relative excellence of our wines and those +of the Greeks," Victor told him. "I was wondering if perhaps you've +visited them too?" + +Donald Fairfield did not answer the query. He stared at Victor +contemplatively, drew in a deep lungful of acrid smoke-filled air from +above the smoldering ashtray, and let it out again. "This is not going +to be as simple an affair as it should be," he said finally. "I can see +that now, but I suppose there's nothing to be done but to see it +through. I take it you've settled everything between the two of you +while I've been gone?" + +"Oh my," Mimi ejaculated, "I've got to see about dinner. See if you two +can find something to talk about while I'm gone." She hurried out of the +room, one hand already reaching for the apron of the modernistic design +as she passed through the swinging door into the kitchen. + + * * * * * + +"Well," Donald began, "what did you discover from my little wife?" + +"To begin with," Victor answered him, "she seems to have lost her +memory. Everything previous to an experience on the train some eight +months ago is a total blank. Were you aware of this?" + +"I was not only aware of it, I told you about it," Donald answered. +"What in God's creation is this moldy brew?" he asked after taking a +deep gulp from the lip of the pitcher and spitting most of it into the +first ashtray he could reach. + +"Lime martinis, like a daiquiri, only dryer. If you don't care for them +you might refill my glass. That's right, you did tell me she didn't +remember, but of course--" + +"You didn't believe me," Donald finished for him. "Naturally. Look, Dr. +Quink, I think I'm a reasonable man. Damn it, I _know_ I am. I don't +expect you to believe me right off the rat when I walk in and tell +you--" + +"Bat," Victor interrupted. + +"I beg your pardon," Donald countered. + +"Bat. Right off the. Not rat, right off the bat. It's a colloquialism, +comes from baseball, that's a sport we play. Perhaps you haven't come +across it, if you've only been here some eight months?" + +"Yes, just about eight months. I've heard of the sport, of course, but +haven't gone to see a game yet. Do you think it's worth my while?" + +"Probably not. Strictly a partisan sport." + +"Yes, I see your point. Not an idiom, you wouldn't say?" + +"No, definitely not," Victor said. "Takes time to make an idiom, but +only God can make a tree. O Lord, I better have another martini. Would +you pour, I think I might miss. Still, a colloquialism, not a doubt +about it. The expression hasn't lasted to your day, I take it? If it +had, then it might be an idiom. Might, I say, only might. I promise +nothing." + +"And quite right you are," Donald said. "Still, I want you to understand +that I don't expect you to believe me right off the bat when I wander +into your busy little office and tell you--by the way, what is your +receptionist doing always staring at the floor right next to her desk?" + +"She's in love. He's an advertising man." + +"Oh, well yes, of course. When I tell you I come from the future. +Obviously you're not going to accept that right off the rat, as I say. I +mean, no one could expect you to. However, after talking at length to me +in your office and then holding a private conversation with my wife, you +should, I think, as a trained and highly competent psychiatrist, +certainly the foremost of your day--" + + * * * * * + +At this point Victor had waved a deprecating hand. + +"Please allow me to say that I am certainly a better judge of your +position in this world than you could possibly be. Seeing it in the +proper perspective, I mean. I did not intend to compliment you when I +described you as I just did, I merely state a fact already known to my +confreres. Then you should, as I say, under these most favorable +circumstances, and certainly being forewarned, then you should be able +to tell who is suffering from a delusion and who is not. Apart from what +the delusion is, and whether or not you choose to believe in it, simply +studying the behavior of the people involved, you should be able to tell +who is acting normally and who is not." + +"I agree with you in every particular," Victor said. "I certainly +should. And I think I can, and have. In point of fact--" + +"Dinner is ready," Mimi said. "And no shop talk, please. I want you to +taste my squash and applesauce piece. And no one, absolutely _no_ one, +comes into my dining room with a stinking black cigar." + +"Could it be Galilililu?" Donald murmured. "Damn." + + * * * * * + +"This is excellent," Victor said. "How do you make it?" + +"Why, thank you," Mimi replied. "It's very simple. You just take the +squash and then pour in the applesauce and cinnamon." + +"There must be more to it than that," Victor insisted, smiling around a +mouthful. + +"Of course there is," she said. "But I'm not telling you all my secrets. +You'll have to come back if you want it again." + +"Damn it," said Donald, "stop jibber-jabbering! We know why we're here, +so let's talk about it. Can you cure my crazy wife?" + +"Donald!" Mimi spluttered. + +"Now, Mr. Fairfield," Victor said, "let's not be unfair. Your wife has +amnesia, but she's not crazy. As a matter of fact, psychiatrists no +longer recognize the term as such--" + +"Pass the roast," Donald said. "Do you think _I'm_ crazy or don't you?" + +"I most certainly do not!" + +"Do you think I was born in the future?" + +"Mr. Fairfield, talking like this isn't getting us anywhere. Now +Mimi--I'm sorry, Mrs. Fairfield--doesn't remember anything previous to +that train ride we were talking about...." + +"Naturally," Donald said. "That's when we got here. We'll skip the +technicalities, but it's always easier to land on something that's +moving. Standard procedure. I don't really understand it myself, but I'm +no engineer. We landed in the twentieth century--is it the twentieth or +the twenty-first?" + +"The twentieth," Victor assured him. + +"Isn't that silly of me. I'm always getting mixed up. It doesn't make +much difference, though, you know. Not much of a change from one to the +other. Not like the nineteenth and twentieth, nothing like that at all. +Do you ever find yourself wondering if it's the twentieth of the month +or the twenty-first?" + +"I have a calendar on my desk." + +"Oh," Donald mused. "I didn't notice it." He stared intently at Victor +Quink while he munched his celery. "It's not hard to see why you've +risen to the top of your profession. Calendar on your desk, eh?" He +looked at his wife and tapped the side of his head significantly. + + * * * * * + +"You landed aboard this train some eight months ago," Dr. Quink +prompted. "What are you doing here, anyhow? Are you an historian?" + +"Nonsense," he replied at once. "Haven't you noticed all the books you +people are writing? Every one of your presidents, every general, every +field-marshal, every scientist, manufacturer, tennis star, and juvenile +delinquent has written a book, or at least a serial for the _Post_. No +reason at all for any historian to come back to this particular age. No +other age in all history, I might add, has been so fond of itself or so +cognizant of the need for preserving itself and its records for +posterity as has yours. And with very little reason. But of course that +last is only a personal observation, and I may be prejudiced, having +lived here, so to speak, for these past months. You get to see the seamy +side of a civilization, you know, when you live there yourself. +Incidentally, would you be interested to know how your age has been +classified by posterity? Of course you would, silly of me to ask. Well, +to get on with it, you know how historians are always _naming_ periods, +and groups, and whatever. The Age of Darkness, you remember, then the +Age of Awakening, the Age of Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, et +cetera? As it turns out, you've come down to us as the Age of Verbiage. +Amusing, eh? No? Well, you can't please everybody. I thought it was +cute. But in answer to your question I'll have to say no, I'm just a +tourist. I'm on vacation. Nothing more sensational than that, I'm +afraid." + +"And naturally you took your wife with you," Victor added. + + * * * * * + +Donald looked down at his plate for just a moment or two, then answered +"naturally," without raising his eyes at all. + +"Somehow, Mr. Fairfield," Victor said, "somehow I get the feeling you're +holding out on me, you're not telling me all." + +"Damn it, the more I tell you the less you believe. I never should have +told you the truth at all. I should have just said my wife's suffering +from amnesia and let it go at that." + +"I'm not an engineer either," Victor answered. "I can't just twist a +screw and restore the proper functioning of the memory mechanism. I've +got to know the whole truth, Mr. Fairfield, the whole truth." + +"How come my wife is Mimi and I'm Mr. Fairfield?" + +"I'm sorry," Victor stammered, "I--" + +"Donald, you're embarrassing him," Mimi interrupted. + +"Just joshing, pulling your toe, or leg, or some such," Donald assured +him. "We might as well be friends, at least. Make it Donald too. I might +even take your autograph back with me. I think the fights are on +television. Want to watch?" + +"I'll just do up the dishes, dear," Mimi said. + +"I'm afraid I don't care much for the prize fights," Victor said. + +"Just sit where you are then, and relax. I'm going to watch them. Won't +see many more of them before we go," he said, throwing a lowering glance +at his wife as he left the room. He returned in a few moments, however, +before the two of them had had time to begin a conversation, and +addressed Victor, "Sorry to interfere, promise I won't interrupt again. +I'm sure you two are making just miles of progress and I dislike the +role of an impedance, but a phrase just popped into my head and I'm sure +I won't be able to concentrate on the fights properly until it's +resolved. I wonder, Dr. Quink, if you could possibly tell me if this is +the age that is so fond of saying that idiots walk with God? You know +what I mean, that they don't need their wit because God's hand is on +their shoulder, so to speak, and that's why et cetera? Childish, +perhaps, but touching, don't you think?" + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Fairfield," Victor replied, "but I hadn't heard the +phrase before. Perhaps I'm just unfamiliar with it, or more probably you +picked it up elsewhere on your travels." + +"Mmmm," Donald answered, somewhat noncommittally, "perhaps. Well, don't +let me detain you. I'll just run along. Vaya con Dios," he waved as he +left the room. They waited a few seconds in silence, but he didn't +return. + + * * * * * + +"Will you take him on as a patient?" Mimi asked when they heard the +first roaring of the crowd from the living-room. + +"I'd like to very much, if you want me to. He's a fascinating case. But +it won't be easy, it's going to take time." + +"Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "He's not dangerous, and we've +plenty of money. Take all the time you want." + +"You know," he said, "I don't mind admitting I'm pretty bewildered by +now." He shook his head two or three times, as if to clear it, then +asked, "Where does the money come from?" + +"I don't know." + +"I mean, what does he do for a living?" + +"I don't know. Did you ask him?" + +"Not yet. He'll probably say he brought the money from the future." + +"Uh-huh," she agreed. + +"Well, don't you even know where your husband gets his money?" + +"No." + +"What a combination you two are," he muttered. + +"I can't hear you," she called from the kitchen. "The water is making +too much noise. Come in here." He went in and leaned against the powder +blue refrigerator while she soaked the dishes. "He won't come to your +office for examinations or treatments," she said. "He thinks I'm the one +who's nuts." + +"That's probably true," he agreed, somewhat ambiguously. "It would be +better if you were my patient at the same time. You do have this amnesia +anyhow, I'd like to clear that up. Would you be willing?" + +"Oh, I'd love it," she cried. "I can come see you for regular +treatments, and then you can come to the house for supper several times +a week and see him then." + +"Let's go see if he agrees to that," Victor said. Mimi dried her hands +in a hurry on a dish towel, grabbed a handful of his fingers, and pulled +him after her to the living-room. Her fingers were still cool and damp. + + * * * * * + +He saw a lot of the two of them in the few weeks following that night, +but he learned nothing more. Donald Fairfield was sulky and +uncommunicative, muttering only over and over again that he had already +said too much and Lord knew what would become of him when he got back +but he didn't see what else he could have done under the circumstances +and no one else had ever gotten into such a fix why the hell did it have +to happen to him, a quiet and thoughtful and considerate man who +wouldn't swat a fly, or anyhow not a pregnant fly. This opened up an +entire new line of discussion. Mimi didn't know, in reply to his query, +whether flies got pregnant or not. At least, she had never seen one. +Donald was forced into a short lecture, barely remembered from second +year biology, but it seemed to satisfy them. "We don't have lower forms +of life at home, you know," Donald apologized. + +On days when he didn't come to their home for supper, Mimi would have +the last appointment of the day with him, and after her hour they would +leave together, waking up Margaret before they left the office, stop off +for cocktails before Mimi had to catch her train, miss the train, have +dinner, miss the next train, catch a show or walk in the park, drive +Mimi home, and finally part. They talked a lot, they talked seemingly +without reserve, but Victor learned nothing new. Her life before that +train ride was simply a blank. + +"I'd like to try hypnotism," Victor said to her one day in his office. + +"No," she replied. + +He was surprised. "I don't think you understand," he said. "I want to +hypnotize you and try to take you back before that train ride, back to +your childhood--" + +"No," she said. + +"It's perfectly safe," he said. + +She filed a rough edge off her nail, second finger, right hand. + +"It's standard analytic procedure. I've used it dozens of times. I'm +quite competent--" + +"No," she said. + +"But why not?" he asked. + +"You'll find out all about me," she said. "I'll have no secrets left." + +"But you shouldn't want to have any secrets from your psychoanalyst. I +can't help you then." + +"Perhaps," she agreed. "But I want to have secrets from you," she said +softly, and looked up quietly from her fingers, staring directly into +his eyes, and her lips and her eyes underwent that mysterious +synchronization once again. "I don't want you to know me like a book, +with everything spelled out in black and white, but like a portrait, +with hidden shades and nuances.... I want you to know me gradually, +slowly...." + +"Mimi," he said, and paused. He pushed back from his desk, swiveled +completely around and back to his original position, cracked two +knuckles, tried to force some saliva into a suddenly dry mouth, and +started to speak again. "Mimi, it's not unusual for a patient to develop +a feeling of affection for her psychoanalyst. In fact, it's the usual--" + +"It's not like that with us, though, is it?" she asked, more quietly, +more softly and deeply, than before. + +After a long pause he said, "No. No, it's not." + +And so they sat there while the daylight faded outside them and the +twilight crawled up sixty-three floors to encircle their window and +continue unhesitatingly upward. + + * * * * * + +"What are we going to do?" she asked. + +"We're not going to do anything, Mimi," he finally said. "When I'm with +you, it's all so light and fantastic and funny, that I forget. But it +would be unforgivable to fall in love with a patient, and the wife of a +patient. I can't do it. We'll have to stop right away. I'm no good as an +analyst to you anymore, anyway. I'm sorry, I'll send you to someone +else. And now you'd better go." + +She stood up, walked around his desk, and put her hands lightly on his +neck. "You're such a dear," she said. "I'll always love you. I've never +seen you so serious before. We always laugh and talk and giggle when +we're together, and I loved you then. But now that you're sad and +serious and oh so pitiably tragic I love you more than I could ever tell +you. But please don't worry, don't worry about a thing, darling. You'll +see, it will all work out." + +"It can't work out, Mimi, there's absolutely no way on earth for it to +work out. There's no solution at all." + +"Please don't worry, darling," she said, picking up her gloves. "I can't +bear to see you looking so tragic. Life isn't so serious, especially as +you're loved." She walked out and closed the door behind her. Victor sat +quite still. He could barely hear her saying "Margaret, wake up, +Margaret, it's time to go home," through the thick wooden door. + + * * * * * + +The phone rang in his office three days later. He was alone at the time, +going over some notes he had just taken with another patient. Margaret +was out, presumably peering through the floor of the ladies' lounge down +the hall, and he picked up the receiver himself. + +"Victor, come quick," Mimi screamed through the wires. "He's trying to +kill me!" + +She said more, but he heard none of it. His fingers went numb, the phone +dropped, he was out of his seat and skidding around the desk before it +hit the carpeted floor. He had to wait at the elevator. He thought for +one silly moment of racing to the exit and running down sixty-three +floors, then compromised on stamping his feet and slamming one fist into +the other palm and striding up and down while three other men and two +women also waiting for the elevator stared at him. He thought of calling +the police just as the elevator door opened, and he nearly turned and +left it, but couldn't and leaped in just as the doors were closing. "I'm +Dr. Quink," he shouted at the elevator operator. "This is an emergency. +Take me straight down." + +The elevator went straight down. The doors opened on the ground floor +and Victor shot out, leaving behind two nearly mortally sick women and +several acid comments to the effect that he was probably late for a +matinee. "I couldn't take any chances," apologized the elevator +operator, "it might really have _been_ an emergency." + +It wasn't raining in New York that day, so he was able to get a cab +immediately. He took it to his parking lot and roared off from there. He +sped through the city traffic, incurring the widespread wrath and +disapproval of the police department. A patrol car caught up with him on +Grand Central Parkway and forced him off the road. He explained who he +was and that a madman was threatening to kill his wife, no, not _his_ +wife, the madman's wife, and that he didn't have time to sit here and +talk about it. The police officer told him to follow him, and, siren +blazing, they roared off once again. + +It occurred to both of them nearly simultaneously that Victor couldn't +possibly follow the police officer, it had to be the other way around, +and so Victor took the lead, the red siren hanging on behind. But when +Victor left the parkway he saw in his mirror no flashing red light, +somewhere he had lost the police. He touched the brake a second, for the +first time in the past fifteen minutes, then accelerated again and +hurried on. He had not the time to wait. + +The door to the Fairfield's home was unlocked and he burst in without +ringing. "Mimi," he cried, then, hearing vague noises from the upstairs +bedroom, he hurried there. + + * * * * * + +He didn't find Mimi there. Donald Fairfield was alone in the bedroom, +and the bedroom was a mess, and there was a gun in Donald Fairfield's +hand. + +Victor stopped in the doorway, a gas pain shooting up his side. He +thought at that moment, inanely, he should play more handball. + +"Galileo," Donald Fairfield said, "it came to me just a few moments ago. +Galileo. It was on the tip of my tongue all the time, I just couldn't +think of it. What were we saying about him, do you remember? What +brought it up?" + +Victor braced himself up against the doorway, breathing hard. He stared +at the gun in Donald's hand. Donald followed his gaze down his side to +the gun, and seemed surprised when he saw it. "Oh, yes. She's in the +bathroom," he said, waving his gun towards the closed door. "She's +locked the door." + +Victor belched. + +"For God's sake," said Donald. "There's a time and a place for +everything." + +Victor crossed to the door. "Mimi," he called. "Mimi, it's me, Victor." + +The lock clicked, the door opened, and Mimi walked out and folded +herself into his arms. He held her until she stopped shaking, then until +he himself stopped shaking and until his breath came more easily. He +kept all the while his back toward Donald and the gun, and his arms +folded around her so that she was safe from him. Then he turned and +calmly as he could, he asked what in the holy hell was going on. + +"He wants me to go back with him, right now," Mimi said. She was +shivering in his arms. "I'm not going, I'm not going with him." + +"Of course, you're not," Victor said. He turned back to Donald. "What's +the rush all of a sudden?" he asked. "What's the big emergency?" he +smiled. + +"Don't turn on the personality, Dr. Quink," Fairfield said. "It's too +complicated to explain, but time's run out on us. We've got to go +tonight, and I'm taking her with me dead or alive, I don't give a damn +which way anymore, she's coming with me dead or alive." + +Victor let go of Mimi and took a step toward him, but the hand with the +gun came up and gun was pointed straight at him, and the voice was flat +and tired and desperate, "I can't leave her here, you can see what it +would mean. They're very strict about time traveling, they have to be, +and she can't stay here. She hasn't lost her memory, she knows damned +well where she comes from, and she's going back now, one way or the +other. I don't know what'll happen to me when we get back if I kill her, +but it's my decision and I can't let her stay behind, no matter what." +His voice started to rise and the words began to come faster. He was +working himself up dangerously near the breaking point. + +"If you'll just calm down for a few moments," Victor tried, "I'm sure we +can talk this out sensibly enough." + +"It won't work, Dr. Quink, it won't work. You're trying to talk it out +like I'm nuts, you're trying to reassure me, but it won't work because +you can't. Because I'm _not_ nuts! I'm telling the truth and she knows +it! Damn you, Mimi, tell him!" + + * * * * * + +"All right! All right, I'll tell him," she cried. "And I'll tell you, +too. And I'm not going back with you, you'll see. Because I planned this +from the start. My God, what a day," she sighed, and sat down on the +bed. "Now listen, both of you, you, too, Donald, because you don't know +it all either." + +"He's not crazy, Victor, we do come from the future. I was reading about +all the Nobel prize winners, darling, and of course, I came across you, +and right from the beginning you fascinated me. Do you know you were the +first psychiatrist ever to win the award, and then you won it twice? +Oh, I can tell you, I was terribly impressed! And when I saw your +picture, you know the one, the portrait by Videl in the Museum of +Ancient--oh, but of course, it hasn't been done yet. You have gray +sideburns then, and there's not a touch of gray in your hair now. +Anyway, you look absolutely distinguished with gray, it's certainly your +color. And I thought you were just the handsomest Nobel winner I had +ever seen, and darling, you are, not the slightest doubt about it. Don't +you think so, Donald?" + +"He's charming," Donald replied. "Just terribly, terribly charming. +Would you mind getting on with it?" + +"Please," Victor started to interrupt. + +"Don't be modest, darling," Mimi went on. "So then I read a biography, +and then another, and soon I was doing nothing but studying you. I fell +in love with you, dear, I fell in love with you a thousand years after +you were dead. You never married, you know, and you needed me, and I +guess that helped, but at any rate I fell, and I fell all the way. + +"We're not married, Donald and I. There's no sex then, so there's no +need for marriage. Right, Donald? Right. But he was coming here on +vacation and he was nice enough to take me along, and we had to fit in, +so we came as husband and wife. Just a matter of convenience, really. +But then we were here for all those months, and I didn't get to meet +you, and something about this age just got into my bones, I loved it so, +people really _live_ now, not like back home. And I nearly forgot about +you, Victor dear, although I can't understand that now, and all I wanted +was to live here like a normal person, a normal wife. But _he_ couldn't +understand that. At any rate, I went native, I went whole hog native. + +"And then it was time to go home. But I wasn't going. So I made up this +story about forgetting everything and I pretended I thought he was nuts +or something and he went and got you and suddenly there you were in my +living room and it all came back, darling, it came back so fast and +strong I thought I'd die on the spot. And I love you now, darling, I +love you now and forever, and I won't go back alive, I swear that." + + * * * * * + +"Mimi," Donald begged, "think of the future. If you don't go back it'll +be all upset. We can't have people just popping up in the past from the +future, there has to be discipline. It's one thing to come here quietly +for a few months of harmless vacation, and then just as quietly to +disappear. But to settle down brazenly in another time, to ... to +immigrate, as it were, well, it just can't be done. There's no +precedent, just none at all. _No_body would think of doing such a thing. +Why, who knows what would happen if you stayed here? It could upset the +whole pattern of the future!" + +"The future will just have to take care of itself," Mimi answered. "I +love him, and you can't argue with that. There's nothing you can say +that can argue with that. I don't care poof for the future." + + * * * * * + +Victor sat down quietly on the edge of the bed, he felt a bit weak +around the general vicinity of the knees. Mimi stood up and strode over +to the window, her back to the conversation. "Mimi," Donald pleaded, +"just think of what you're doing. You'll lose your immortality, for one +thing. You know, it's not something you're just _born_ with, it's the +result of careful medical science. Why, almost _any_thing could happen +to you here. They have all _sorts_ of ugly diseases. And if you should +last just a few years longer, just maybe fifty or sixty more years, your +heart will almost certainly pop off. They don't have any sort of +arterial rejuvenation now, nothing at all. You're trading immortality +for a mere _moment_." + +"I don't give a damn or a wild pig's snort," she replied. + +"Don't be vulgar," Donald said. "Let's keep this on a civilized plane." + +"That's not vulgarity," she answered. "It's poetry. 'I don't give a damn +or a wild pig's snort, but you cut just one strand and the fashions be +damned, I swear that I'll boil three in lime!'" + +"Lime?" Victor asked rather weakly. + +"I think so, dear," Mimi said. "Would you care for a martini?" + +"How about the toilet!" Donald suddenly thundered. "How about _that_, +hey?" + +"I beg your pardon," Mimi replied. + +"The toilets, the toilets," he repeated impatiently. "Do you want to +spend the rest of your short life with this old-fashioned plumbing?" He +waved wildly toward the tile bathroom. "It's all right roughing it for a +few months like we did, but can you honestly imagine spending the rest +of your _life_ under such vile conditions? Ha, you didn't think of that, +did you?" he continued when he saw the sudden stricken expression on her +face. "You don't like the idea, do you?" + +Mimi clenched her fists at her side and stamped her little foot. "I +don't _care_," she spit out, "I absolutely do not care! I will stay with +him, I will, I will, I _will_." She turned and looked at the bathroom +that opened off the bedroom, and blanched for one moment, then she shut +her eyes, gave another kick, and insisted. "I will, I will, I will!" + + * * * * * + +Donald sighed and slapped his hands at his side. He turned around, +hesitated for a few seconds, then said to the wall, "I've tried. I've +tried everything I could think of." He turned again and faced them, and +he raised his gun. "You're coming, Mimi. One way or another, you're +coming." + +So quietly he hardly realized what he was doing, but thankful that the +gas pain had vanished, Victor stepped between the gun and the girl. +"You'll have to kill me, Donald," he said. "You won't take her out of +here without killing me, I promise you that, and what will that do to +your future? A man from the future killing somebody here? Oh, no, +that'll upset everything. And before I've become famous? Your whole +history will be changed. You'd better think twice, Donald." + +The gun wavered, and lowered. + +"Would you care for a martini, Donald, dear?" Mimi asked. + +Donald turned and ran from the room. They heard his feet slipping down +the stairs, they heard the front door slam behind him. + +Victor started after him, but Mimi held him back. "What are you going to +do," she cried, "chase after him? What will you do when you catch him? +You're needed more here. After all," she continued, "think what I just +went through? I'm a nervous wreck, almost getting carted off to God +knows where like that. I need the care of a competent physician." + +He turned back to her in a daze, she clucked and patted his cheek, and +pushed him down onto the bed. She pulled out his handkerchief and mopped +his face. "Aren't you proud of me?" she said. "Wasn't that fast +thinking? How did you like that little story I told? It really threw +him, didn't it? He didn't know _what_ to think." + +"You mean," Victor stammered, "you mean you didn't mean it, you just +made it up? Just like that?" + +"Darling," she began to giggle, "you didn't bel_ieve_ that wild story? +About the future? Oh, _darling_, you couldn't possibly believe it." + +"Of course not," he said. "Of course not. Quick thinking, Mimi, yes, +very quick thinking. It _was_ a convincing story, you know. Very good. +But, my God! I've got to catch him." + +"Don't be silly," she said, pushing him down. "You'll never find him, +you'll never see him again. He'll be lost in the crowd. One more +screwball in New York, they'll never notice him. He'll fit right in. He +may even become President some day, or at least Dean of Students at some +small New England College. You just take my word for it, darling, and +relax a moment. I'll rush downstairs and bring you up a martini. We +deserve one. He'll be all right now. As long as he's made up his mind +that he can leave me here, he'll trot off somewhere and dig up another +neurosis, or psychosis, or whatever. He's not dangerous anymore. And you +heard him say we were never married, and we have no marriage +certificate, so I guess we're not. Can't we just forget about him, just +as if he never existed? Maybe he never _did_ exist. Maybe he was just a +figment of our imagination. Maybe he was just an instrument of kismet to +bring us together. Maybe he was just a wandering minstrel, or a memory +looking for a chance to be real?" + +"Maybe you'd better not talk so much, but just bring up the martini. +Better bring a pitcher. Green ones." + +And so she did. Their first honeymoon they spent in Bermuda; they took +their second on a trip to Sweden ten years later, when Victor went to +accept his first Nobel prize. + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ April + 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and + typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of You Don't Make Wine Like the Greeks Did, by +David E. 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