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diff --git a/old/50103-0.txt b/old/50103-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b68a7da..0000000 --- a/old/50103-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1130 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dwindling Years, by Lester Del Rey - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Dwindling Years - -Author: Lester Del Rey - -Illustrator: Ashman - -Release Date: October 1, 2015 [EBook #50103] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DWINDLING YEARS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Carolyn Jablonski, Adam Buchbinder -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - The - - Dwindling - - Years - - - _He didn’t expect to - be last—but neither - did he anticipate the - horror of being the - first!_ - - - By LESTER DEL REY - - Illustrated by JOHNS - - -[Illustration] - - -NEARLY TWO hundred years of habit carried the chairman of Exodus -Corporation through the morning ritual of crossing the executive floor. -Giles made the expected comments, smiled the proper smiles and greeted -his staff by the right names, but it was purely automatic. Somehow, -thinking had grown difficult in the mornings recently. - -Inside his private office, he dropped all pretense and slumped into the -padding of his chair, gasping for breath and feeling his heart hammering -in his chest. He’d been a fool to come to work, he realized. But with -the Procyon shuttle arriving yesterday, there was no telling what might -turn up. Besides, that fool of a medicist had sworn the shot would cure -any allergy or asthma. - -Giles heard his secretary come in, but it wasn’t until the smell of the -coffee reached his nose that he looked up. She handed him a filled cup -and set the carafe down on the age-polished surface of the big desk. She -watched solicitously as he drank. - -“That bad, Arthur?” she asked. - -“Just a little tired,” he told her, refilling the cup. She’d made the -coffee stronger than usual and it seemed to cut through some of the -thickness in his head. “I guess I’m getting old, Amanda.” - -She smiled dutifully at the time-worn joke, but he knew she wasn’t -fooled. She’d cycled to middle age four times in her job and she -probably knew him better than he knew himself—which wouldn’t be hard, he -thought. He’d hardly recognized the stranger in the mirror as he tried -to shave. His normal thinness had looked almost gaunt and there were -hollows in his face and circles under his eyes. Even his hair had seemed -thinner, though that, of course, was impossible. - -“Anything urgent on the Procyon shuttle?” he asked as she continue -staring at him with worried eyes. - - * * * * * - -SHE JERKED her gaze away guiltily and turned to the incoming basket. -“Mostly drugs for experimenting. A personal letter for you, relayed from -some place I never heard of. And one of the super-light missiles! They -found it drifting half a light-year out and captured it. Jordan’s got a -report on it and he’s going crazy. But if you don’t feel well—” - -“I’m all right!” he told her sharply. Then he steadied himself and -managed to smile. “Thanks for the coffee, Amanda.” - -She accepted dismissal reluctantly. When she was gone, he sat gazing at -the report from Jordan at Research. - -For eighty years now, they’d been sending out the little ships that -vanished at greater than the speed of light, equipped with every -conceivable device to make them return automatically after taking -pictures of wherever they arrived. So far, none had ever returned or -been located. This was the first hope they’d found that the century-long -trips between stars in the ponderous shuttles might be ended and he -should have been filled with excitement at Jordan’s hasty preliminary -report. - -He leafed through it. The little ship apparently had been picked up by -accident when it almost collided with a Sirius-local ship. Scientists -there had puzzled over it, reset it and sent it back. The two white rats -on it had still been alive. - -Giles dropped the report wearily and picked up the personal message that -had come on the shuttle. He fingered the microstrip inside while he -drank another coffee, and finally pulled out the microviewer. There were -three frames to the message, he saw with some surprise. - -He didn’t need to see the signature on the first projection. Only his -youngest son would have sent an elaborate tercentenary greeting -verse—one that would arrive ninety years too late! Harry had been born -just before Earth passed the drastic birth limitation act and his mother -had spoiled him. He’d even tried to avoid the compulsory emigration -draft and stay on with his mother. It had been the bitter quarrels over -that which had finally broken Giles’ fifth marriage. - -Oddly enough, the message in the next frame showed none of that. Harry -had nothing but praise for the solar system where he’d been sent. He -barely mentioned being married on the way or his dozen children, but -filled most of the frame with glowing description and a plea for his -father to join him there! - - * * * * * - -GILES SNORTED and turned to the third frame, which showed a group -picture of the family in some sort of vehicle, against the background of -an alien but attractive world. - -He had no desire to spend ninety years cooped up with a bunch of callow -young emigrants, even in one of the improved Exodus shuttles. And even -if Exodus ever got the super-light drive working, there was no reason he -should give up his work. The discovery that men could live practically -forever had put an end to most family ties; sentiment wore thin in half -a century—which wasn’t much time now, though it had once seemed long -enough. - -Strange how the years seemed to get shorter as their number increased. -There’d been a song once—something about the years dwindling down. He -groped for the lines and couldn’t remember. Drat it! Now he’d probably -lie awake most of the night again, trying to recall them. - -The outside line buzzed musically, flashing Research’s number. Giles -grunted in irritation. He wasn’t ready to face Jordan yet. But he -shrugged and pressed the button. - -The intense face that looked from the screen was frowning as Jordan’s -eyes seemed to sweep around the room. He was still young—one of the few -under a hundred who’d escaped deportation because of special ability—and -patience was still foreign to him. - -Then the frown vanished as an expression of shock replaced it, and Giles -felt a sinking sensation. If he looked _that_ bad— - -But Jordan wasn’t looking at him; the man’s interest lay in the -projected picture from Harry, across the desk from the communicator. - -“Antigravity!” His voice was unbelieving as he turned his head to face -the older man. “What world is that?” - -Giles forced his attention on the picture again and this time he noticed -the vehicle shown. It was enough like an old model Earth conveyance to -pass casual inspection, but it floated wheellessly above the ground. -Faint blur lines indicated it had been moving when the picture was -taken. - -“One of my sons—” Giles started to answer. “I could find the star’s -designation....” - -Jordan cursed harshly. “So we can send a message on the shuttle, begging -for their secret in a couple of hundred years! While a hundred other -worlds make a thousand major discoveries they don’t bother reporting! -Can’t the Council see _anything_?” - -Giles had heard it all before. Earth was becoming a backwater world; no -real progress had been made in two centuries; the young men were sent -out as soon as their first fifty years of education were finished, and -the older men were too conservative for really new thinking. There was a -measure of truth in it, unfortunately. - -“They’ll slow up when their populations fill,” Giles repeated his old -answers. “We’re still ahead in medicine and we’ll get the other -discoveries eventually, without interrupting the work of making the -Earth fit for our longevity. We can wait. We’ll have to.” - - * * * * * - -THE YOUNGER man stared at him with the strange puzzled look Giles had -seen too often lately. “Damn it, haven’t you read my report? We know the -super-light drive works! That missile reached Sirius in less than ten -days. We can have the secret of this antigravity in less than a year! -We—” - -“Wait a minute.” Giles felt the thickness pushing back at his mind and -tried to fight it off. He’d only skimmed the report, but this made no -sense. “You mean you can calibrate your guiding devices accurately -enough to get a missile where you want it and back?” - -“_What?_” Jordan’s voice rattled the speaker. “Of course not! It took -two accidents to get the thing back to us—and with a half-light-year -miss that delayed it about twenty years before the Procyon shuttle heard -its signal. Pre-setting a course may take centuries, if we can ever -master it. Even with Sirius expecting the missiles and ready to -cooperate. I mean the big ship. We’ve had it drafted for building long -enough; now we can finish it in three months. We know the drive works. -We know it’s fast enough to reach Procyon in two weeks. We even know -life can stand the trip. The rats were unharmed.” - -Giles shook his head at what the other was proposing, only partly -believing it. “Rats don’t have minds that could show any real damage -such as the loss of power to rejuvenate. We can’t put human pilots into -a ship with our drive until we’ve tested it more thoroughly, Bill, even -if they could correct for errors on arrival. Maybe if we put in stronger -signaling transmitters....” - -“Yeah. Maybe in two centuries we’d have a through route charted to -Sirius. And we still wouldn’t have proved it safe for human pilots. Mr. -Giles, we’ve got to have the big ship. All we need is _one_ volunteer!” - -It occurred to Giles then that the man had been too fired with the idea -to think. He leaned back, shaking his head again wearily. “All right, -Bill. Find me one volunteer. Or how about you? Do you really want to -risk losing the rest of your life rather than waiting a couple more -centuries until we know it’s safe? If you do, I’ll order the big ship.” - -Jordan opened his mouth and for a second Giles’ heart caught in a flux -of emotions as the man’s offer hovered on his lips. Then the engineer -shut his mouth slowly. The belligerence ran out of him. - -He looked sick, for he had no answer. - - * * * * * - -NO SANE man would risk a chance for near eternity against such a -relatively short wait. Heroism had belonged to those who knew their days -were numbered, anyhow. - -“Forget it, Bill,” Giles advised. “It may take longer, but eventually -we’ll find a way. With time enough, we’re bound to. And when we do, the -ship will be ready.” - -The engineer nodded miserably and clicked off. Giles turned from the -blank screen to stare out of the windows, while his hand came up to -twist at the lock of hair over his forehead. Eternity! They had to plan -and build for it. They couldn’t risk that plan for short-term benefits. -Usually it was too easy to realize that, and the sight of the solid, -time-enduring buildings outside should have given him a sense of -security. - -Today, though, nothing seemed to help. He felt choked, imprisoned, -somehow lost; the city beyond the window blurred as he studied it, and -he swung the chair back so violently that his hand jerked painfully on -the forelock he’d been twisting. - -Then he was staring unbelievingly at the single white hair that was -twisted with the dark ones between his fingers. - -Like an automaton, he bent forward, his other hand groping for the -mirror that should be in one of the drawers. The dull pain in his chest -sharpened and his breath was hoarse in his throat, but he hardly noticed -as he found the mirror and brought it up. His eyes focused reluctantly. -There were other white strands in his dark hair. - -The mirror crashed to the floor as he staggered out of the office. - -It was only two blocks to Giles’ residence club, but he had to stop -twice to catch his breath and fight against the pain that clawed at his -chest. When he reached the wood-paneled lobby, he was barely able to -stand. - -Dubbins was at his side almost at once, with a hand under his arm to -guide him toward his suite. - -“Let me help you, sir,” Dubbins suggested, in the tones Giles hadn’t -heard since the man had been his valet, back when it was still possible -to find personal servants. Now he managed the club on a level of -quasi-equality with the members. For the moment, though, he’d slipped -back into the old ways. - - * * * * * - -GILES FOUND himself lying on his couch, partially undressed, with the -pillows just right and a long drink in his hand. The alcohol combined -with the reaction from his panic to leave him almost himself again. -After all, there was nothing to worry about; Earth’s doctors could cure -anything. - -“I guess you’d better call Dr. Vincenti,” he decided. Vincenti was a -member and would probably be the quickest to get. - -Dubbins shook his head. “Dr. Vincenti isn’t with us, sir. He left a year -ago to visit a son in the Centauri system. There’s a Dr. Cobb whose -reputation is very good, sir.” - -Giles puzzled over it doubtfully. Vincenti had been an oddly morose man -the last few times he’d seen him, but that could hardly explain his -taking a twenty-year shuttle trip for such a slim reason. It was no -concern of his, though. “Dr. Cobb, then,” he said. - -Giles heard the other man’s voice on the study phone, too low for the -words to be distinguishable. He finished the drink, feeling still -better, and was sitting up when Dubbins came back. - -“Dr. Cobb wants you to come to his office at once, sir,” he said, -dropping to his knee to help Giles with his shoes. “I’d be pleased to -drive you there.” - -Giles frowned. He’d expected Cobb to come to him. Then he grimaced at -his own thoughts. Dubbins’ manners must have carried him back into the -past; doctors didn’t go in for home visits now—they preferred to see -their patients in the laboratories that housed their offices. If this -kept on, he’d be missing the old days when he’d had a mansion and -counted his wealth in possessions, instead of the treasures he could -build inside himself for the future ahead. He was getting positively -childish! - -Yet he relished the feeling of having Dubbins drive his car. More than -anything else, he’d loved being driven. Even after chauffeurs were a -thing of the past, Harry had driven him around. Now he’d taken to -walking, as so many others had, for even with modern safety measures so -strict, there was always a small chance of some accident and nobody had -any desire to spend the long future as a cripple. - -“I’ll wait for you, sir,” Dubbins offered as they stopped beside the -low, massive medical building. - -It was almost too much consideration. Giles nodded, got out and headed -down the hall uncertainly. Just how bad did he look? Well, he’d soon -find out. - -He located the directory and finally found the right office, its -reception room wall covered with all the degrees Dr. Cobb had picked up -in some three hundred years of practice. Giles felt better, realizing it -wouldn’t be one of the younger men. - - * * * * * - -COBB APPEARED himself, before the nurse could take over, and led Giles -into a room with an old-fashioned desk and chairs that almost concealed -the cabinets of equipment beyond. - -He listened as Giles stumbled out his story. Halfway through, the nurse -took a blood sample with one of the little mosquito needles and the -machinery behind the doctor began working on it. - -“Your friend told me about the gray hair, of course,” Cobb said. At -Giles’ look, he smiled faintly. “Surely you didn’t think people could -miss that in this day and age? Let’s see it.” - -He inspected it and began making tests. Some were older than Giles could -remember—knee reflex, blood pressure, pulse and fluoroscope. Others -involved complicated little gadgets that ran over his body, while meters -bobbed and wiggled. The blood check came through and Cobb studied it, to -go back and make further inspections of his own. - -At last he nodded slowly. “Hyper-catabolism, of course. I thought it -might be. How long since you had your last rejuvenation? And who gave -it?” - -“About ten years ago,” Giles answered. He found his identity card and -passed it over, while the doctor studied it. “My sixteenth.” - -It wasn’t going right. He could feel it. Some of the panic symptoms were -returning; the pulse in his neck was pounding and his breath was growing -difficult. Sweat ran down his sides from his armpit and he wiped his -palms against his coat. - -“Any particular emotional strain when you were treated—some major upset -in your life?” Cobb asked. - -Giles thought as carefully as he could, but he remembered nothing like -that. “You mean—it didn’t take? But I never had any trouble, Doctor. I -was one of the first million cases, when a lot of people couldn’t -rejuvenate at all, and I had no trouble even then.” - -Cobb considered it, hesitated as if making up his mind to be frank -against his better judgment. “I can’t see any other explanation. You’ve -got a slight case of angina—nothing serious, but quite definite—as well -as other signs of aging. I’m afraid the treatment didn’t take fully. It -might have been some unconscious block on your part, some infection not -diagnosed at the time, or even a fault in the treatment. That’s pretty -rare, but we can’t neglect the possibility.” - - * * * * * - -HE STUDIED his charts again and then smiled. “So we’ll give you another -treatment. Any reason you can’t begin immediately?” - -Giles remembered that Dubbins was waiting for him, but this was more -important. It hadn’t been a joke about his growing old, after all. But -now, in a few days, he’d be his old—no, of course not—his young self -again! - -They went down the hall to another office, where Giles waited outside -while Cobb conferred with another doctor and technician, with much -waving of charts. He resented every second of it. It was as if the -almost forgotten specter of age stood beside him, counting the seconds. -But at last they were through and he was led into the quiet rejuvenation -room, where the clamps were adjusted about his head and the earpieces -were fitted. The drugs were shot painlessly into his arm and the -light-pulser was adjusted to his brain-wave pattern. - -It had been nothing like this his first time. Then it had required -months of mental training, followed by crude mechanical and drug -hypnosis for other months. Somewhere in every human brain lay the memory -of what his cells had been like when he was young. Or perhaps it lay in -the cells themselves, with the brain as only a linkage to it. They’d -discovered that, and the fact that the mind could effect physical -changes in the body. Even such things as cancer could be willed out of -existence—provided the brain could be reached far below the conscious -level and forced to operate. - -There had been impossible faith cures for millenia—cataracts removed -from blinded eyes within minutes, even—but finding the mechanism in the -brain that worked those miracles had taken an incredible amount of study -and finding a means of bringing it under control had taken even longer. - -Now they did it with dozens of mechanical aids in addition to the -hypnotic instructions—and did it usually in a single sitting, with the -full transformation of the body taking less than a week after the -treatment! - -But with all the equipment, it wasn’t impossible for a mistake to -happen. It had been no fault of his ... he was sure of that ... his mind -was easy to reach ... he could relax so easily.... - -He came out of it without even a headache, while they were removing the -probes, but the fatigue on the operator’s face told him it had been a -long and difficult job. He stretched experimentally, with the eternal -unconscious expectation that he would find himself suddenly young again. -But that, of course, was ridiculous. It took days for the mind to work -on all the cells and to repair the damage of time. - - * * * * * - -COBB LED him back to the first office, where he was given an injection -of some kind and another sample of his blood was taken, while the -earlier tests were repeated. But finally the doctor nodded. - -“That’s all for now, Mr. Giles. You might drop in tomorrow morning, -after I’ve had a chance to complete my study of all this. We’ll know by -then whether you’ll need more treatment. Ten o’clock okay?” - -“But I’ll be all right?” - -Cobb smiled the automatic reassurance of his profession. “We haven’t -lost a patient in two hundred years, to my knowledge.” - -“Thanks,” said Giles. “Ten o’clock is fine.” - -Dubbins was still waiting, reading a paper whose headlined feature -carried a glowing account of the discovery of the super-light missile -and what it might mean. He took a quick look at Giles and pointed to it. -“Great work, Mr. Giles. Maybe we’ll all get to see some of those other -worlds yet.” Then he studied Giles more carefully. “Everything’s in good -shape now, sir?” - -“The doctor says everything’s going to be fine,” Giles answered. - -It was then he realized for the first time that Cobb had said no such -thing. A statement that lightning had never struck a house was no -guarantee that it never would. It was an evasion meant to give such an -impression. - -The worry nagged at him all the way back. Word had already gone around -the club that he’d had some kind of attack and there were endless -questions that kept it on his mind. And even when it had been covered -and recovered, he could still sense the glances of the others, as if he -were Vincenti in one of the man’s more morose moods. - -He found a single table in the dining room and picked his way through -the meal, listening to the conversation about him only when it was -necessary because someone called across to him. Ordinarily, he was quick -to support the idea of clubs in place of private families. A man here -could choose his group and grow into them. Yet he wasn’t swallowed by -them, as he might be by a family. Giles had been living here for nearly -a century now and he’d never regretted it. But tonight his own group -irritated him. - -He puzzled over it, finding no real reason. Certainly they weren’t -forcing themselves on him. He remembered once when he’d had a cold, -before they finally licked that; Harry had been a complete nuisance, -running around with various nostrums, giving him no peace. Constant -questions about how he felt, constant little looks of worry—until he’d -been ready to yell at the boy. In fact, he had. - -Funny, he couldn’t picture really losing his temper here. Families did -odd things to a man. - - * * * * * - -HE LISTENED to a few of the discussions after the dinner, but he’d heard -them all before, except for one about the super-speed drive, and there -he had no wish to talk until he could study the final report. He gave up -at last and went to his own suite. What he needed was a good night’s -sleep after a little relaxation. - -Even that failed him, though. He’d developed one of the finest chess -collections in the world, but tonight it held no interest. And when he -drew out his tools and tried working on the delicate, lovely jade for -the set he was carving his hands seemed to be all thumbs. None of the -other interests he’d developed through the years helped to add to the -richness of living now. - -He gave it up and went to bed—to have the fragment of that song pop into -his head. Now there was no escaping it. Something about the years—or was -it days—dwindling down to something or other. - -Could they really dwindle down? Suppose he couldn’t rejuvenate all the -way? He knew that there were some people who didn’t respond as well as -others. Sol Graves, for instance. He’d been fifty when he finally -learned how to work with the doctors and they could only bring him back -to about thirty, instead of the normal early twenties. Would that reduce -the slice of eternity that rejuvenation meant? And what had happened to -Sol? - -Or suppose it wasn’t rejuvenation, after all; suppose something had gone -wrong with him permanently? - -He fought that off, but he couldn’t escape the nagging doubts at the -doctor’s words. - -He got up once to stare at himself in the mirror. Ten hours had gone by -and there should have been some signs of improvement. He couldn’t be -sure, though, whether there were or not. - -He looked no better the next morning when he finally dragged himself up -from the little sleep he’d managed to get. The hollows were still there -and the circles under his eyes. He searched for the gray in his hair, -but the traitorous strands had been removed at the doctor’s office and -he could find no new ones. - -He looked into the dining room and then went by hastily. He wanted no -solicitous glances this morning. Drat it, maybe he should move out. -Maybe trying family life again would give him some new interests. Amanda -probably would be willing to marry him; she’d hinted at a date once. - -He stopped, shocked by the awareness that he hadn’t been out with a -woman for.... - -He couldn’t remember how long it had been. Nor why. - -“In the spring, a young man’s fancy,” he quoted to himself, and then -shuddered. - -It hadn’t been that kind of spring for him—not this rejuvenation nor the -last, nor the one before that. - - * * * * * - -GILES TRIED to stop scaring himself and partially succeeded, until he -reached the doctor’s office. Then it was no longer necessary to frighten -himself. The wrongness was too strong, no matter how professional Cobb’s -smile! - -He didn’t hear the preliminary words. He watched the smile vanish as the -stack of reports came out. There was no nurse here now. The machines -were quiet—and all the doors were shut. - -Giles shook his head, interrupting the doctor’s technical jargon. Now -that he knew there was reason for his fear, it seemed to vanish, leaving -a coldness that numbed him. - -“I’d rather know the whole truth,” he said. His voice sounded dead in -his ears. “The worst first. The rejuvenation...?” - -Cobb sighed and yet seemed relieved. “Failed.” He stopped, and his hands -touched the reports on his desk. “Completely,” he added in a low, -defeated tone. - -“But I thought that was impossible!” - -“So did I. I wouldn’t believe it even yet—but now I find it isn’t the -first case. I spent the night at Medical Center going up the ranks until -I found men who really know about it. And now I wish I hadn’t.” His -voice ran down and he gathered himself together by an effort. “It’s a -shock to me, too, Mr. Giles. But—well, to simplify it, no memory is -perfect—even cellular memory. It loses a little each time. And the -effect is cumulative. It’s like an asymptotic curve—the further it goes, -the steeper the curve. And—well, you’ve passed too far.” - -He faced away from Giles, dropping the reports into a drawer and locking -it. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, of course. It’s going to be tough -enough when they’re ready to let people know. But you aren’t the first -and you won’t be the last, if that’s any consolation. We’ve got a longer -time scale than we used to have—but it’s in centuries, not in eons. For -everybody, not just you.” - -It was no consolation. Giles nodded mechanically. “I won’t talk, of -course. How—how long?” - -Cobb spread his hands unhappily. “Thirty years, maybe. But we can make -them better. Geriatric knowledge is still on record. We can fix the -heart and all the rest. You’ll be in good physical condition, better -than your grandfather—” - -“And then....” Giles couldn’t pronounce the words. He’d grown old and -he’d grow older. And eventually he’d die! - -An immortal man had suddenly found death hovering on his trail. The -years had dwindled and gone, and only a few were left. - -He stood up, holding out his hand. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said, and was -surprised to find he meant it. The man had done all he could and had at -least saved him the suspense of growing doubt and horrible eventual -discovery. - - * * * * * - -OUTSIDE ON the street, he looked up at the Sun and then at the buildings -built to last for thousands of years. Their eternity was no longer a -part of him. - -Even his car would outlast him. - -He climbed into it, still partly numbed, and began driving mechanically, -no longer wondering about the dangers that might possibly arise. Those -wouldn’t matter much now. For a man who had thought of living almost -forever, thirty years was too short a time to count. - -He was passing near the club and started to slow. Then he went on -without stopping. He wanted no chance to have them asking questions he -couldn’t answer. It was none of their business. Dubbins had been -kind—but now Giles wanted no kindness. - -The street led to the office and he drove on. What else was there for -him? There, at least, he could still fill his time with work—work that -might even be useful. In the future, men would need the super-light -drive if they were to span much more of the Universe than now. And he -could speed up the work in some ways still, even if he could never see -its finish. - -It would be cold comfort but it was something. And he might keep busy -enough to forget sometimes that the years were gone for him. - -Automatic habit carried him through the office again, to Amanda’s desk, -where her worry was still riding her. He managed a grin and somehow the -right words came to his lips. “I saw the doctor, Amanda, so you can stop -figuring ways to get me there.” - -She smiled back suddenly, without feigning it. “Then you’re all right?” - -“As all right as I’ll ever be,” he told her. “They tell me I’m just -growing old.” - -This time her laugh was heartier. He caught himself before he could echo -her mirth in a different voice and went inside where she had the coffee -waiting for him. - -Oddly, it still tasted good to him. - -The projection was off, he saw, wondering whether he’d left it on or -not. He snapped the switch and saw the screen light up, with the people -still in the odd, wheelless vehicle on the alien planet. - - * * * * * - -FOR A long moment, he stared at the picture without thinking, and then -bent closer. Harry’s face hadn’t changed much. Giles had almost -forgotten it, but there was still the same grin there. And his -grandchildren had a touch of it, too. And of their grandfather’s nose, -he thought. Funny, he’d never seen even pictures of his other -grandchildren. Family ties melted away too fast for interstellar travel. - -Yet there seemed to be no slackening of them in Harry’s case, and -somehow it looked like a family, rather than a mere group. A very -pleasant family in a very pleasant world. - -He read Harry’s note again, with its praise for the planet and its -invitation. He wondered if Dr. Vincenti had received an invitation like -that, before he left. Or had he even been one of those to whom the same -report had been delivered by some doctor? It didn’t matter, but it would -explain things, at least. - -Twenty years to Centaurus, while the years dwindled down— - -Then abruptly the line finished itself. “The years dwindle down to a -precious few....” he remembered. “A precious few.” - -Those dwindling years had been precious once. He unexpectedly recalled -his own grandfather holding him on an old knee and slipping him candy -that was forbidden. The years seemed precious to the old man then. - -Amanda’s voice came abruptly over the intercom. “Jordan wants to talk to -you,” she said, and the irritation was sharp in her voice. “He won’t -take no!” - -Giles shrugged and reached for the projector, to cut it off. Then, on -impulse, he set it back to the picture, studying the group again as he -switched on Jordan’s wire. - -But he didn’t wait for the hot words about whatever was the trouble. - -“Bill,” he said, “start getting the big ship into production. I’ve found -a volunteer.” - -He’d been driven to it, he knew, as he watched the man’s amazed face -snap from the screen. From the first suspicion of his trouble, something -inside him had been forcing him to make this decision. And maybe it -would do no good. Maybe the ship would fail. But thirty years was a -number a man could risk. - -If he made it, though.... - -Well, he’d see those grandchildren of his this year—and Harry. Maybe -he’d even tell Harry the truth, once they got done celebrating the -reunion. And there’d be other grandchildren. With the ship, he’d have -time enough to look them up. Plenty of time! - -Thirty years was a long time, when he stopped to think of it. - - —LESTER DEL REY - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Transcriber’s Note - - -Italicized phrases are presented by surrounding the text with -_underscores_. - -This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956. Extensive research did -not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was -renewed. - -The cover belongs to the entire publication, and does not particularly -relate to this etext. - -Minor changes in presentation have been made from the layout of the -original paper publication. - -Punctuation has been normalized. Variations in hyphenation have been -retained as they were in the original publication. The following assumed -printer's errors were corrected: - -possitively —> positively - -He’d developed one the finest —> He’d developed one of the finest - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dwindling Years, by Lester Del Rey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DWINDLING YEARS *** - -***** This file should be named 50103-0.txt or 50103-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/1/0/50103/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Carolyn Jablonski, Adam Buchbinder -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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