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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Disaster Revisited, by Darius John Granger
+
+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: Disaster Revisited
+
+Author: Darius John Granger
+
+Release Date: June 6, 2010 [EBook #32711]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISASTER REVISITED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
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+
+
+
+
+                           DISASTER REVISITED
+
+                         By DARIUS JOHN GRANGER
+
+[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories March
+1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+[Illustration: A time can come when jumping is all that's left.]
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: _It annoyed Jason Wall that everybody talked about death but
+nobody did anything about it. So he decided to eliminate the pesky
+nuisance. But in the end he longed for a chance to say, "Fellas--I was
+only kidding!"_]
+
+
+"Tell me the truth, doctor," Jason Wall said. "We've known each other
+too long for lies."
+
+The doctor nodded slowly, lit a cigarette and offered Jason Wall one.
+"Yes, we've known each other a long time--long enough so I know the
+truth, or anything you want, can't be kept from you."
+
+Jason Wall smiled. He was a small, sparse man, very hard of eye and
+gaunt of face. He was about forty-five years old.
+
+"Then here it is," the doctor said uneasily. "You're going to die,
+Jason. Eighteen months, maybe two years at the outside. There is
+absolutely no chance for a cure."
+
+Jason Wall turned to the window and finished smoking his cigarette.
+Outside, children were playing, the sun was shining, and a postman came
+by humming a gay tune. Jason Wall turned back to face the room and his
+own grim reality. "Shall I consult specialists? I can buy--"
+
+The doctor shrugged. "You can, if you wish. I already have, on the
+biopsy."
+
+"Pain?" Jason Wall asked.
+
+The doctor nodded, yes. "Progressively worse. We'll be giving you
+narcotics the last six months or so."
+
+Jason Wall pursed his thin lips. His gaunt face seemed, if anything,
+gaunter. That was the only sign that he had just been given his death
+sentence. He said: "Blast it, doctor, it isn't fair! It isn't fair, I
+tell you. I'm a rich man. Maybe the richest man in the world. I can buy
+anything--anything, you hear me?" His voice went low suddenly, so low
+that the doctor could hardly hear it. "Anything but my health. Because
+don't let them tell you a man can't buy happiness. That's for sale too,
+doctor. Anything is--except a man's health. Blast it, it isn't fair.
+I've everything to live for."
+
+The doctor said: "At least you're fortunate in one way. There'll be no
+widow, no orphaned children, no--"
+
+"Family!" scoffed the doomed Jason Wall. "You think that's happiness?
+You think it matters?" He laughed, and there was nothing hysterical
+about the laughter. "You don't know what happiness is. None of you do.
+Happiness and selfishness, they're the same thing. The most successful
+men realize that, doctor. I realize I'm not exactly the world's best
+loved man. It doesn't matter, I tell you. It doesn't matter at all." He
+went to the window again, watched the children at play. "But that isn't
+fair. That's the hardest thing to take."
+
+"Yes? What is?"
+
+"Those children. The rest of the world. Out there. Playing. They don't
+know I'm going to die. If they knew, they wouldn't care. That hurts more
+than anything. Doctor, I tell you the world ought to weep when Jason
+Wall dies. It ought to wear black."
+
+"Mr. Wall, I know you won't mind my saying you're the most egotistical
+man I've ever met."
+
+"Mind? I'm delighted. A man ought to be self-centered. Shall we say, ten
+thousand dollars?"
+
+"Ten thousand--"
+
+"Your fee, for telling me the truth. For telling me I'm going to die.
+For not keeping it back."
+
+"My fee is fifty dollars, Mr. Wall."
+
+"You'll take ten thousand. I give what I want, doctor, so I feel free to
+take what I want. Ten thousand dollars. You'll have your check in the
+morning. Thank you."
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Wall," the doctor said.
+
+Jason Wall left the office grumbling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Eve came to him that night wearing the stone marten cape he'd given her
+for Christmas. She was a tall, regal blonde, long-legged and gorgeous.
+She was half a head taller than Jason Wall, was from Iowa, and had won
+the Miss Universe contest two years before. Naturally, since she'd been
+voted the world's most beautiful woman, Jason Wall had had to possess
+her. He'd given her an outright gift of half a million dollars, and
+while most girls would have taken that and gone their way, Eve was
+different. Eve only knew it was a ripple on the surface of Jason Wall's
+bought happiness. She'd hung around for more. For much more.
+
+"Drink?" Jason Wall asked.
+
+"The usual."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They drank. The butler brought dinner, and they ate. Then there was a
+bottle of brandy, and cigarettes, and love play. Finally Eve said: "You
+seem restless tonight, Jason darling."
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"I ought to know. I know you better than anyone else does."
+
+"You don't know me at all. No one does, I've seen to it."
+
+"Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Eve, you've never lied to me. That's one of the things about you I
+always admired, aside from your more obvious charms. Tell me, what would
+you do if I died?"
+
+"Don't even talk like that!"
+
+"Posh! Don't make believe you're sentimental. I want the truth. What
+would you do if I died in a year or two?"
+
+"I--I don't even want to think about it."
+
+"Actress! Bah!" Jason Wall grabbed her wrist, twisting cruelly.
+
+"Jason, you--you're hurting me!"
+
+"Then tell me the truth. What would you do if I died?" His tone was
+urgent.
+
+"I'd be--sad."
+
+"Blast it, of course you'd be sad. I've given you the sort of life a
+girl dreams about. But what would you do?"
+
+"I--Jason, really!"
+
+"Would you hook onto another man? Another rich man? You'd have to settle
+for second best, you know. I'm the richest man there is. But don't think
+I haven't seen how some of my business associates have been eying you.
+Don't think--"
+
+"Jason, my arm."
+
+"Then tell me what I want to know."
+
+"All right. All right, I'll tell you. You've shown me what the good life
+is, Jason. I wouldn't want to be without it for long. I--I'd hook onto
+someone else, as you say."
+
+Jason Wall smiled. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Thank you so much
+for being honest."
+
+He made love like a college sophomore that night. Eve was quite
+pleasantly startled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later that week and for the next month or so, he thought of suicide. The
+trouble was, he had never been able to stand pain. A weakness. The one
+weakness he had. When he thought of the pain which would surely come,
+when he thought of the last few months of his life, which would be
+spent, pain-wracked, on his death bed, his thoughts leaned most strongly
+toward suicide. Yes, suicide was the obvious way out, and Jason Wall had
+neither religious nor moral scruples about it.
+
+Jason Wall had religious scruples, or moral scruples, about nothing
+under the sun. He was an utterly egocentric man.
+
+But when his thoughts of suicide were strongest he would remember what
+he'd seen from the doctor's window. Children at play, delighting in
+their simple pleasures. A postman at work, contented with his lot,
+humming gayly. Or, he would send for Eve, and take from her body what he
+craved. And, when it was over, he felt a strange, hollow sense of loss.
+No, he would tell himself with complete objectivity (he had always been
+thoroughly objective) not exactly loss. A sense, rather, of lost
+possession, of something which belonged to Jason Wall, as his life
+belonged uniquely to him, and would be taken away at his death. He tried
+to imagine Eve in someone else's arms, Eve dancing with a younger man,
+drinking with him, making love. A rage of jealousy flooded him, not for
+the particular man lucky enough to win Eve, but for the world. For
+everything in it.
+
+For the whole blasted world, Jason Wall told himself.
+
+He'd made his own world, fashioned it with the sweat of his brow and the
+cunning of his brain. But ultimately, it did not matter. He was going to
+die, to die in great pain. It wasn't fair that the rest of the world
+should go right on living, enjoying the life that Jason Wall had barely
+begun to taste. They'd see an article in the newspaper, perhaps. Famous
+Tycoon Dies. In a day, a week, they would forget. They would go on
+living out their little lives, enjoying their little enjoyments. But the
+sum total of them--three billion men, women, and children on Earth, was
+it?--added up to considerable enjoyment. Jason Wall envied them with a
+desperate, passionate envy.
+
+When his thinking evolved to the next stage, he knew with petty triumph
+that only Jason Wall would have taken that step. He had an incurable
+disease. He was going to die. But the world would go right on,
+generations after generations. It wasn't fair. They had no right to
+enjoy what he, Jason Wall, would lose forever.
+
+He toyed--seriously toyed for some weeks--with the idea of destroying
+the world. It could be done: he never doubted it for a minute. To
+develop the atomic bomb, the governments of the free world had pooled
+their resources in a crash program costing two billion dollars, and had
+succeeded in a very few years. Two billion dollars--that was the kind of
+figure Jason Wall understood. For two billion dollars, couldn't he hire
+all the world's top scientists to build a super-bomb which would utterly
+destroy Earth?
+
+He could, of course. In theory, such a crash program, with Jason Wall's
+money and industrial know-how behind it, was a possibility. But for
+another reason, for a very simple reason, it was quite obviously
+impossible.
+
+The scientists wouldn't do it.
+
+Suicide? Never. He decided that firmly, two months after the prognosis.
+World-destruction? Impossible. Then what?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Eve who, trying to flaunt an intellectual prowess she really did
+not have, told him about time travel. There was this article she had
+read in the newspaper Sunday supplement, about the possibility of moving
+backwards through time. There was absolutely no natural law which said
+it could not be done, the article said. It was merely a question of
+probability. For, while in theory time travel was possible, it was
+practically impossible--unless, as the article suggested and Jason Wall
+thought in triumph, you pushed it. If you pushed it, the improbability
+became a possibility, then a probability, then a reality.
+
+Crash program, he thought.
+
+The world was made of particles. All reality, particles. Discreet
+particles of matter, of time, of space-time. Building blocks of the
+universe. Now, take these particles; and return them to the positions
+they occupied a moment ago--and you travel into the immediate past.
+Re-arrange them into the positions they occupied years ago, decades,
+generations, aeons--and you have time travel.
+
+Crash program. Billions of dollars, he thought. All the world's great
+physicists. It could be done. He could do it.
+
+But--so what?
+
+Jason Wall smiled. It was the way his mind often functioned. Decide on
+something, apparently without relation to your problem. Then use it.
+
+He couldn't have the world destroyed, despite his money and the decided
+possibility of instituting a crash program to do it. He wouldn't be able
+to fool the scientists, and the scientists just wouldn't do it.
+
+But a crash program for time travel, now that was something else. That
+could be done. He would see that it _was_ done.
+
+For what purpose?
+
+To return to the dawn of the human race. To find dawn man, the first
+man. Call him Adam. To find the first truly human being.
+
+To kill him.
+
+To snuff humanity out at its source, as a flame is snuffed before it can
+start a fire.
+
+To prevent the human race from enjoying what he would never enjoy. To
+destroy humanity by killing the first man.
+
+Of course, he told himself, that would obliterate, along with the rest
+of mankind's history and comedy and tragedy, the first forty-five years
+of his own life. But those years didn't matter. By and large, they were
+the hard years. They were the years of toil and struggle, to give him
+the position and wealth he now had. Position and wealth--which he never
+would enjoy. Let them be obliterated then! With the rest of humanity,
+not in any sudden catastrophe, but quickly and without pain, at the
+instant First Man is killed....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A week later, he got the crash program underway. Since the world's
+scientists, like most of the world's intellectuals, were underpaid, it
+was comparatively simple hiring them, especially since this was a time
+of international calm. At first the physicists were dubious. Yes, the
+theoreticians said, time travel was a possibility. No, the engineers
+said, it couldn't be executed.
+
+Execute it, he said. Here's money. Here are facilities. Here is
+everything you will need. If what you need doesn't exist, make it, buy
+it, steal it--but get it. Our time is limited. We have a year. One year
+to make it possible for one man to travel back in time.
+
+After three months, they were shaking their heads.
+
+After six months--when the first terrible twinges of pain had
+begun--they began to work feverishly.
+
+Jason Wall went regularly to his physician at this time for the drugs
+that could ease his terrible suffering. They spoke, the doctor with no
+greater objectivity than Jason Wall himself, of his disease. It was
+absolutely incurable. Even a crash program to find a cure wouldn't help
+Jason Wall. The damage done to his body was irreversible. And, the
+doctor mentioned in passing, it was hereditary. That is, the germ of the
+disease, or a predilection for it, or both, were carried in the blood of
+mankind like a scourge, had been so carried, as far as medical science
+knew, from the dawn of history and before.
+
+If the murder he had planned ever bothered Jason Wall, which is
+doubtful, it certainly did not bother him now. What was killing
+him--hereditary! Why, the First Man he sought might himself be
+responsible. Killing him would almost be a pleasure....
+
+After eight months something began to take shape. It was a little box.
+"For hamsters," one of the scientists said.
+
+"Fool! I want to go."
+
+They made the box bigger.
+
+Ten months from the day the crash program had been started, the job was
+completed. Jason Wall had spent the last few days watching the world at
+play. Happy children, contented people, folks who didn't have much, but
+who did have happiness. They would go right on enjoying themselves,
+after Jason Wall died. It wasn't fair, he told himself. And he would see
+to it that they didn't--by destroying their first ancestor, and his, so
+they would never be born, so the human race would never be....
+
+"... all physical actions on the sub-microscopic level, on the level of
+molecules and atoms and sub-atomic particles and quanta of energy--all
+these actions," the chief physicist told Jason Wall, "are reversible. If
+you can control the reversal, you can return matter, energy, and space
+to its former state. Doing that, you travel through time. Therefore--"
+
+"Never mind the details," Jason Wall snapped. "That's your department. I
+only want to know this: will it work. Will it take a man back through
+time."
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"Very well. I'll go."
+
+"But we haven't figured out a way to return. If you go, you won't come
+back. You'll have to spend the rest of your life back there."
+
+The rest of his life. Jason Wall smiled. The rest of his life could be
+measured in pain-wracked months, possibly only in weeks.
+
+Fifteen minutes after his discussion with the chief physicist, he sat
+down in the time chair. Anthropologists had been consulted for the final
+stages of the project. There would be no mistakes. He would go where and
+when he had to go....
+
+"Ready, sir?"
+
+"Ready," said Jason Wall. Ready to destroy the human race--
+
+His vision flashed and blurred. Time moved backward for him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A forest trail. Animals used it, had carved it out of the wall of
+jungle. And the first man?
+
+Armed with a revolver, Jason Wall left the now useless time-chair and
+hid himself beside the trail. He waited three days, living on berries
+and a small marsupial creature he had caught with his bare hands. If
+First Man was around, he didn't want to frighten him off with gun-fire.
+
+At last, First Man came.
+
+He was, Jason Wall observed with objective detachment, a noble-looking
+creature. The first true man. Over six feet tall, perfectly
+proportioned. He looked quite the healthiest man Jason Wall had ever
+seen. If looks meant anything, he had never known a day of disease in
+his life, and never would. Jason Wall's determination to kill grew.
+
+He did not have to wait long. When First Man came by his hiding place he
+stood up, pointed the revolver, and fired it point-blank.
+
+He was, naturally, ready for the end. The death of First Man ought to
+mean the death of all men, the sudden blotting out, in all ages, of all
+mankind and all traces of mankind.
+
+First Man fell, mortally wounded. Blood gushed from his nostrils; he
+died.
+
+And Jason Wall went on existing. He didn't understand. It made no sense.
+The death of First Man should have brought all humanity in all future
+ages to an instant, painless end.
+
+A woman, he thought.
+
+There must be a woman. Already with child, perhaps, and therefore, the
+mother of all the human race....
+
+Jason Wall followed the forest trail, his revolver ready.
+
+If the woman turned out to be as beautiful as the man had been handsome,
+Jason Wall would not relish his job. He'd always had a soft-spot, the
+one soft-spot in his makeup, for beautiful women.
+
+He found her in a little clearing before a cave.
+
+She was quite the loveliest creature he had ever seen. She was stark
+naked, and showed no fear when she saw him. She showed, instead, a
+lively curiosity. She jabbered and smiled at him and came to him,
+open-handed, interested, friendly.
+
+I'll kill her, he told himself, when the pain is too bad, when I can't
+stand it any longer. She can't get away. She expects nothing, nothing.
+Meanwhile, he decided to spend the last months of his life with this
+woman....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was no reason to expect that she had been monogamous. One man or
+another would be all the same to her, if they could leave this area. If
+she wouldn't find the corpse of her mate. Jason took her hand, and they
+walked. They walked for a long time. Then they slept, then ate, then
+walked again. The woman jabbered. Jason Wall talked. He was enjoying
+himself immensely. There was no hurry. This was a new kind of life, a
+new kind of experience. He loved every moment of it.
+
+They found another cave, three day's journey from the first. They lived
+there for some weeks. The pain came more frequently, but Jason Wall
+withstood it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The weeks became months. His days were numbered now, he knew that. It
+seemed just, somehow. After taking all that the first woman had to
+offer, he would kill her--and destroy all humankind.
+
+She never had understood his affliction, his great pain. Pain from a
+wound she could understand. Once he had scraped his knee on a rock, and
+she had been extremely sympathetic. But pain from disease seemed unknown
+to her. Of course, Jason Wall knew, any disease was compounded of two
+things: a disease agent, bacteria or virus, and a susceptibility.
+Apparently First Man and First Woman had utterly no susceptibility. They
+were disease-free.
+
+Some time later in the course of human development--how much later he
+did not yet know--susceptibility to disease had evolved.
+
+The woman's belly grew round and Jason Wall knew she was going to have a
+baby. His baby.
+
+He sighed. His time was short. The baby would never be born, because he
+would kill its mother first.
+
+Then it struck him like a blow. A baby. His baby. And First Man and
+First Woman--free of disease. He had introduced disease into the human
+makeup, by planting his seed in this woman!
+
+_Including his own...._
+
+He could break the pattern by killing her. Then, as he had planned
+originally, there would be no childbirth, and no mankind.
+
+He lifted the pistol. The look on his face must have given him away.
+Probably, she thought it was a club. He was pain-wracked and very much
+weakened by his disease now. She took the pistol away from him easily,
+and shrugged, and cried a little, and went away.
+
+He ran after her.
+
+"Wait!" he screamed. "Wait, you don't understand! You've got to die.
+You've got to--"
+
+He fell. His legs drummed feebly. She was gone. The pistol was gone.
+Humanity would live--the life of torment and pain and disease that it
+had always known.
+
+And he would die, alone, wracked by the ailment he had introduced into
+the human line.
+
+He lay there.
+
+It took him a long time to die.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Disaster Revisited, by Darius John Granger
+
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