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diff --git a/58784-0.txt b/58784-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ac1bc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/58784-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1472 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58784 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + And Gone Tomorrow + + BY ANDY OFFUT + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, December 1954. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + * * * * * + + THE $1000 PRIZE WINNING STORY + in IF's College Science Fiction Contest + +_Here is the best story submitted in answer to the theme question: +"What Will Life in America Be Like 100 Years From Now?" ... Written by +an undergraduate at the University of Louisville, Louisville, Kentucky, +it pictures the America of 2054 as part of a world empire run by an +Italian dictator and very similar to that of the ancient Caesars and +the early Roman Empire. There is one language, one religion and customs +and laws have changed to suit the times. But, basically, human nature +hasn't changed and there is the omnipresent clash of faction against +faction. The theme is that a dictatorship is the only perfect form of +government. If there is a moral, it is that there is no permanent form +of government._ + +_One of the requirements for entering IF's College Science Fiction +Contest was that the contestant be a "simon pure" amateur--never +having been published professionally. This is Andy Offut's first +published story, and it has been accorded the same editing we give to +professional manuscripts. No rewriting or revisions have been made. See +November IF for complete announcement of this and the six other winners +in this nation-wide contest._ + + * * * * * + +He sat down suddenly. He stared up at the man. + +"Say it again," he muttered. + +He knew what the answer would be even before the man repeated it in +that quiet voice. + +"This is June 3, 2054." + +The fellow wasn't kidding him. He was serious enough. But a couple +of minutes ago it had been May 15, 1954. He looked at his watch and +grunted. Less than four minutes ago it had been 1954. Reality. Now it +was June 3, 2054. There were four steel walls. There was a steel chair. +There were no windows. + +He tried to take it calmly. But the unbelievable horror of being +_where_ he was and _when_ he was and the man calmly repeating, "This +is June 3, 2054," screamed for release. + +"No! No! You're lying! It's impossible!" He grabbed the man's tunic and +drew back a doubled fist. His chair went over behind him. + +Then a stiff thumb jabbed him in the short ribs and he grunted and went +down. + +"This is June 3, 2054. You are still in Louisville, Kentucky. You are +standing in a room adjoining the laboratory in the Time Building on +3rd Street at Eastern Parkway. This is the receiving room. My name is +Kevin Ilaria. You've come through time. Is that so impossible to grasp? +You're a thinking man. Educated!" + +He looked up from the floor. + +"Well?" + +"So I'm a thinking man and an educated man. And what happens? I'm +sapped. I'm shanghaied. I'm walking down Confederate Place to my old +fraternity house at 1:00 in the morning. I've just had a row with +my girl. I'm heading for the fraternity house to see who'll go down +to Herman's and get good and drunk with me. And somebody clobbers +me. The next thing I remember I'm sitting in a steel chair in a +steel room without any windows. Just like this one. There's a man +standing there. A man with watery, myopic eyes under bushy brows and +his hair parted in the middle. He's Doctor Borley, of the University +of Louisville Chemistry Department. There's another man with him. A +little fellow with thick glasses and a crew cut and eyes like the slits +between closed Venetian blinds. He's Doctor Schink, of the Psychology +Department. They're talking about me." + +"Umn hmn. Now you're beginning to sound normal. Doctors Borley and +Schink are our agents in 1954. Do you know where you were?" + +"I told you. In some sort of steel room without win--" + +The man made an impatient gesture with his hand. "No, I mean _where_. +You were in a steel chamber in the Daynolds Metals Plant. It stood on +this spot in 1954. Two people knew--know--about that room." + +"Doctor Borley and Doctor Schink?" + +"I'm glad you've calmed down. Now we can talk." + +Jay wasn't quite ready to calm down. "You stand there in that Roman +outfit and talk about being calm. To me. To me, Jay Welch, a history +major who took his AB from the University of Louisville in 1950. Jay +Welch, average guy, who got into an average argument with the girl he +pinned in 1950 and went for a walk to drown his sorrows and wound up +one hundred years from where--when--he started. I--" + +"Then you admit you've come through Time?" + +"I may as well." + +Ilaria cursed quietly. "But you're not an average guy. You have a +working knowledge of chemistry and biology and physics and history +and a few arts and sociology and psychology and geopolitics and +literature and the English language as spoken in AD 1954. You hope to +be successful as a writer. You're Public Relations Consultant with +Duo-Point, one of the biggest corporations in your nation in 1954." + +"Yes," Jay Welch said. "And I make good money. Even better than a bus +driver or a steam-fitter. So?" + +"So here you are. 1954's representative to 2054." Ilaria was only a +man. He could not keep the flourish and the Hollywood grandeur out of +his voice. + +"Yes! And what happens tomorrow when I don't show up for work? What +happens in a few days when people find out I've disappeared? What +happens when they find out Julie was the last person I was with? What--" + +"You're getting yourself worked up again, Jay Welch. Don't you think +we have thought of those things? We've brought you across one hundred +years, Jay Welch." + +"Yes," Jay said quietly, flatly. "Yes." Then just as flatly, just as +quietly he said, "Why?" + +"So you've remembered to wonder about that at last." Ilaria smiled. +Jay noticed that the smile was one-sided and pulled back the left +corner of Ilaria's mouth. He stood there and looked down at Jay Welch, +who had forgotten that he was sitting on the floor. His tunic was +white and there were three diamond-shaped silver pieces in a vertical +line on each elbow-length sleeve. There was a wide blue stripe and a +narrow silver stripe at the hem of his tunic and at his sleeves. He +wore sandals. His belt was leather and there was a holstered pistol of +some sort hanging at his left hip. In tiny blue script above his left +breast pocket were the words 'Trib. Ilaria'. On the pocket was a red +disk with the letters PR. A silver-worked blue cloak was flung over +his shoulders. Except for the identification and the odd fabric of his +clothes and the holstered gun he looked very like a young Roman of the +first century. + +Ilaria's slow smile pulled back the left corner of his mouth. "Because +you are who you are and what you are. Because you attended the +University of Louisville and Doctors Borley and Schink knew you. +Because they chose you. Merely because they chose you. They might've +chosen anyone else. + +"We've your personality pretty well mapped out. We expected violence. +That's why I'm here. I'm a psychologist and an anthropologist. I'm a +fast-talker and I can convince people and place them at ease. I'm also +big enough to handle you, Jay Welch." + +From his position on the floor Jay looked up at Ilaria and decided the +man from 2054 was big enough. Jay Welch was six feet one inch tall. He +weighed one seventy-three and wore a 40-long suit. Kevin Ilaria was +bigger. + +Jay was forced to grin. The tall blond man was a likeable guy, at that. +A human being. + +"Who are you?" + +"Kevin Ilaria. Doctor of Psychology. That entitles me to the silver +band on my tunic. Also a Tribune. That entitles me to the blue stripe +and the three silver diamonds and the gun." + +"A Tribune? In what? Of what?" + +"In the Forces. In the actual ranks, a Tribune commands 7,000 men, 250 +planes or a base, or 40 tanks. But I've never had a chance to go into +the field. There has been no cause to fight. Meantime I'm stationed at +Standiford Field as second-in-command. A friend of mine named Rinaldi +fills in for me. He's a Sub-Tribune. + +"I've been specializing in the study of Time." + +"The way you say Time it sounds as though it were capitalized. Where I +come from Time with a capital T is a magazine." + +Kevin Ilaria laughed. He reached down a hand. "Get up," he said, and, +taking Jay's forearm, helped him to his feet. + +"Let's go," he said. + +Jay didn't bother to ask where they were going. He followed the Tribune +out the door and into the hall. On the wall just outside the door, was +a black box. Two squares cut into it shone with a faint white light. +Ilaria paused and shielded the lighted areas a moment with his hand, +and Jay saw the light go out in the room they had just left. Ilaria +closed the door. As he turned, Jay saw the white letters PR emblazoned +on the back of his cloak. + +"This way," he said. Jay noticed that Ilaria walked on his right, so +that the Tribune's gun was between them. + +"The way I said Time, it _is_ capitalized. It means all the Time since +the beginning. It's a corporation, like your Duo-Point. Only much +larger, and much less known. Our job is to learn." + +"That's a big order," Jay commented. "You learn +by--borrowing--emissaries?" + +Ilaria laughed again. "Thanks for the phraseology, but it wouldn't +worry me if you called it 'kidnaping' or 'shanghaiing.' You're right, +of course. We learn by sending men from this age to other ones, and by +pulling men from other ages to this one. Doctor Schink is our Emissary +to 1954. His real name is Clyde Gabrinaldi. Borley is our contact +there ... rather, then." + +"Well I'll be damned! I've gone to Clyde a lot of times for advice." + +The left corner of Ilaria's mouth pulled back as his grin widened. "Umn +hmn. He's married, too. With a child. He's there for good." + +Jay was afraid to ask if emissaries from the past to 2054 were "there +for good" too. He changed the subject. + +"You started to tell me before--" + +"Oh, yes. I'm to be your teacher and companion. But I'll try to give +you a quick fill-in. Our world of 2054 is quite different from yours. +And, we hope, in better shape. We've proved that the only way to +maintain world peace is by world government. And the only successful +type of government is a dictatorship." + +Jay gasped. "You mean the entire world--has reverted to _dictatorship_?" + +Ilaria laughed. "Not _reverted_. We finally accepted it as the only +logical form of government for an entire world." + +"What happens when the dictator goes wild? He always has." + +The smile was there again. "You're not quite ready for that," Ilaria +told him. "But, it has been taken into consideration." + +Out of the corner of his eye, Jay saw the slight puff of Ilaria's +chest, the self-satisfied square of his shoulders, the quick set of his +jaw. He wondered what part Tribune Kevin Ilaria played in the 'dictator +control' this world had provided. + +"The system has worked and is working. See this?" + +They turned a corner in the corridor and faced a great domed room. +On the far wall hung a white tapestry of something like 40 x 40 foot +dimensions. On it, emblazoned in letters of red and yellow made to look +like flame, were the characters PPB. In the lower right-hand corner, in +white outlined with blue, was the same PR that Ilaria wore. Jay waited +for the Tribune's explanation. + +"PpB stands for Pax per Bello," Ilaria explained. "Peace through War. +That slogan was written in 1967 by Julius and adapted in 1971 as +official." + +"Julius?" + +"Yes. The first Dictator." + +Things were beginning to click in Jay's mind. + +"I think I know what PR stands for," he said. "Pax Romana." + +As always, Ilaria smiled. "That's right," he said. + + * * * * * + +The command-car marked with the PR symbol pulled over and stopped. + +"What is it? Who are you?" the driver demanded. + +The Captain on the seat beside him peered into the blackness and cursed. + +The man who had waved the vehicle to a halt walked away. + +"Here!" the Captain cried. "What in blazes is going on here? Why'd you +stop us? Centurion! Stop that man!" + +The two Centurions in the back seat looked at the Captain for a moment, +then they both jumped out and ran after the man. + +An ellipsoidal grey thing streaked out of the darkness, landed in the +driver's lap and thudded to the floor of the car. The Captain threw +open his door and started to climb out. The driver bent over to see +what it was. + +At that moment the driver, the command-car and the Captain blew up. + +The silence that followed was broken by the blast of a submachine gun +as it struck down the two centurions. + +"Take their weapons," said a brittle voice. + + * * * * * + +The detachment of soldiers from the garrison at Tel Aviv stopped and +looked around. + +"Sir, what is it?" asked a guard anxiously. + +"Terribly quiet out here; something's up," the Lieutenant muttered +calmly. + +There were seven of them. The Lieutenant, the Centurion, and five +legionaries. They had grown accustomed to the quiet life of garrison +men in a calm, conquered city. When there is nothing tangible to be +guarded, a guard's life is a dull one. The guns they carried were +the symbol of their authority, and had never been used for any other +purpose. + +They looked around. The dirty, once-white buildings rose close on +either side. There was no moon. There was no sound. The darkness and +the silence could have been cut with a knife. + +The Lieutenant grinned. He didn't feel much like grinning. He spoke. He +didn't feel much like talking, either. + +"This darkness is thick," he said. "You could cut it with a knife. Wish +I had a knife." + +He got a knife. The men had just started to laugh when the Lieutenant +got it. + +Between his shoulder blades. + +As the Lieutenant toppled forward, the Centurion dodged close against +the dirty stone wall and yelled "Spread out!" + +They killed a lot of the shadowy, green-clad attackers, but there were +only six of them and they were cornered. When the enemy drove a tank +into the alley and sprayed them with its mounted gun they died. + +"Take their weapons," said a quiet voice. + + * * * * * + +The half-track rolled to a stop. + +"Where, Sir?" the driver wanted to know. + +"Beyond that big crater over there. The sun glinted on metal. I'm sure +of it. Didn't you see it?" + +"No, Sir." The driver craned his neck. There was nothing but barren +rubble and bomb craters and torn, twisted metal and ruined buildings. + +"There are all sorts of old automobiles lying around out there, Sir," +the driver volunteered. + +"Yes, and they've been here long enough to get good and rusty," the +Captain snapped. "This is something else." + +The driver craned his neck. There was nothing but rubble. + +Eight men in the back of the half-track leaped to their feet when they +heard the faint clicking of KCN-H2SO4 guns and the buzz of an old gamma +gun and the sharp bark of a very old sub machine-gun. But a grenade +landed on the truck and another rolled under it. + +Another wreck was added to the rubble. + +"Take their weapons, if there are any left," said a quiet voice. + + * * * * * + +And in the more peaceful city of Louisville, Jay Welch was introduced +to Kevin Ilaria's best friend, his adjutant at Standiford Field. + +Jay took a liking to Sub-Tribune Jason Rinaldi the moment he felt the +fellow's firm grip. + +"Jason is adjutant," Ilaria explained. "And one of the few 'field +soldiers' who manages to get along with Caesar's Pretorian Prefect, +Lamberti. How he does it, I don't know. Lamberti's absolutely +unbearable." + +"Prejudice. Middle-class prejudices," Rinaldi grinned. He was short and +very dark with a lot of black hair. + +Ilaria's left cheek cracked into a long dimple as he smiled. "He picks +on me because I'm a serious psychologist." + +Rinaldi laughed. "As a psychologist, Kevin, you're an excellent bridge +player. As a soldier--" + +"Just remember who's got three bars and who has two." + +Rinaldi waved his hand and shrugged. "They pass 'em out to psych boys +wholesale," he said, and ducked Ilaria's swing. "Slow reflexes, too," +he added as he turned to go. + +Ilaria stopped him at the door and murmured a few sentences. + +Jay caught something about sabotage at Standiford. Rinaldi seemed to be +attributing it to the Commanding Officer there. + +"Nice guy," Jay said as the door closed behind Rinaldi. + +"You said it. Good officer, too. He'll root out the bird who's playing +around out there. Can't figure out why it's being done." + +"Factions," Jay said, "--within factions." + +"Little ones always exist, I guess. Have you finished with the history +films?" + +"I've seen them, yes. I'm still trying to digest them." + +"The language give you much trouble?" + +"Quite a bit, but I think I got most of it. + +"One man," Jay went on wonderingly. "One man. A Captain in the Italian +Army. + +"The Communist forces in Indo-China had been driven back and +Captain--then Major--Lollabrigida went in after them. + +"The defeat was becoming so terrible that the Kremlin dealt itself a +playing hand rather than the dummy it had been playing. Red forces came +piling in. Lollabrigida and his Italian troops stopped them cold. Then +he seemed to sway. And, when the Commies pounced for the kill, they +were trapped, pocketed, and annihilated. + +"American newspapers and commentators began to call Major Julius +Lollabrigida 'Julius Caesar.' Italy became big overnight. The Big Three +became Russia, the United States, and Italy. Lollabrigida appealed to +America--sometime in there they made him a Colonel, but he was actually +telling the Generals and the Italian government what to do--for aid in +going ahead aggressively. + +"And America turned him down. They were still playing 'wait and see.' +They waited. They waited too long. The Commies got tired of waiting +around and sent a couple of jet bombers with A-bombs." + +"Now you're telling me things," Ilaria interrupted. "I'm pretty shady +on that period myself." + +Jay shrugged. "It was after my time. All I know is what the films show. +Two planes, each with a seven-man crew, and each carrying one atomic +bomb, were dispatched from an airbase somewhere near Juneau." Jay +stopped. + +"And?" + +The man from 1954 choked. It was hard to be objective about this. It +wasn't so easy for him to pass off as the film had done. + +"And--" he hesitated. + +"It's over, Jay. It's done with. It doesn't even concern you anymore. +It belongs to a past era." + +"One was headed for New York. The other struck farther inland ... for +Washington. The first one was shot down by an F-117 border patrol +plane. The other one got through. It--it levelled the capitol. Almost +completely. The White House and the Pentagon were destroyed." + +Ilaria sat quietly and waited. Jay didn't go on. + +"Thus removing the United States of America, as such, from a prominent +position in the world picture," Ilaria said. + +"Yes. I can't understand it. Everything just folded up. SAC +didn't even get off the ground. And Colonel Lollabrigida, by then +Commander-in-Chief of the UN forces, sent fifty planes, each with +one A-bomb, over the Kremlin. One was shot down over Vladivostok, +but the bombardier pulled the firing pin as the ship crashed and +most of Vladivostok was destroyed. Six other planes made it to their +destinations and dropped their loads. I can't remember the cities ... +one was a new super airbase near Moscow. Five of the planes returned. +None had managed to reach Moscow. Half the world was in ruins. The Pope +begged that the War be stopped." + +Ilaria snorted. "He knew they'd hit Rome!" + +Jay looked at him. "Is that what you think?" + +Ilaria shrugged and flashed that quick, winning smile. "There are no +other motives, are there?" + +Jay stared. What changes had taken place in religious philosophy in +this hard-bitten world of 2054? + +Kevin Ilaria shrugged, smiling. "That's unimportant. Let's go on with +the history lesson. Then what?" + +"Uh--oh, yes. As I remember Julius Lollabrigida, to be trite, launched +an 'all-out offensive' against Communist forces everywhere. People were +afraid of Russia, but they were afraid of Lollabrigida and Rome, too. +So they joined him. Aid poured into the UN. Czechoslovakia was taken +and Poland and Hungary and finally only the old Russia of pre World War +II days was left. And in they went. + +"Then Lollabrigida's saboteurs exploded an atomic bomb in the heart of +Moscow. After that it was pretty easy sledding." + +"Astounding how a nation seems to fall apart when its capitol and its +leaders are gone," Ilaria remarked. + +"Everybody and everything folds," Jay said. "Morale dies. + +"After the demolition of Moscow and other parts of the USSR, Italy +stood at the top. General of the Armies Julius Lollabrigida marched +back into Italy and into Rome and into the capitol and up on a +pedestal. He stood as Italy's utter ruler. His last name was lost and +replaced by 'Caesar II.' He was named Dictator. + +"From mighty Rome, Caesar sent out linguists and anthropologists and +ethnologists and psychologists and military men and others. In twenty +years, twenty peaceful years, Italian had become the language of the +world. A few minor uprisings in America and in Japan were smashed. +Julius Caesar II was World Dictator of the Republic of Earth. Someone +in America denied him and was torn to pieces by the people. Someone +in Italy spread literature of dissension and was hunted down and +liquidated by Caesar's personal police, the Pretoriani. And so it went. + +"Caesar adopted a prominent Air Force Colonel who became Caesar III on +Lollabrigida's death. Each year on his birthday men were silent. No +business was transacted. No one left his home. Except blue-and-silver +clad soldiers, wearing PR armbands. Caesar's Pretorians. No one _dared_ +venture out. + +"During the reign of Caesar III, every person in the world changed his +last name to an Italian one. The Ali bens and the Chicos and the Andres +and the Fritzes and the Johns became Marianos and Roccos and Caldinis +and Campisanos and diManos." + +There was silence for a moment. + +"The thing I can't understand," Jay mused, "is why in all these years +there hasn't been a 'bad' Caesar, or an uprising." + +"What do you mean by 'bad' Caesar?" + +Jay shrugged. "In the first Pax Romana there was Caligula, who was +insane. Nero, who preferred artistic diversions to politics. There was +Galba, who didn't know what was going on. And so on. And on and on. +Your three dictators so far seem to have done excellent jobs. They seem +to be damned conscientious leaders." + +"When you re-create something," Ilaria told him, "you try to eliminate +its faults." + +"Of course. But what if Caesar's son or a Caesar's adopted son goes +bad?" Jay elucidated. + +"So far we haven't had that problem to deal with. But we're ready. Each +time a new Dictator comes to power, one thousand top military men draw +folded pieces of plastipaper from a 'bowl.' On twenty of these are X's. +The others contain O's. The twenty X's are a secret organization, sworn +to kill the Dictator if it should become necessary. When Caesar, as you +say, 'goes bad'." + +"Brilliant!" Jay breathed. "And he--Caesar--never knows who they are?" + +"_No_ one ever knows," Ilaria said. "Not even the members. They remain +in contact, but none ever knows who the others are." + +Jay remembered Ilaria's previous mention of the system, and the +unconscious swelling of the Tribune's chest at the time. "You're one," +he said. + +Ilaria was caught off guard. "I--yes," he said. "I won't ask how you +knew." + +"A guess. Then you've been a--whatever it's called--for nine years, +during Caesar V's reign." + +"That's right." + +"And you don't know any of the others?" + +"Only one. I found out accidentally. He--" Ilaria stopped. + +Jay shrugged. "I won't ask any more questions along that line," he +promised. "But I still can't believe there haven't been any uprisings!" + +"None. Caesar II died of a heart attack. Caesar III had a brain tumor +which we learned about too late. His son never had a chance to prove +himself, other than that he was brave and foolish. He swam the Rubicon +at its widest point, then walked to Rome in his shorts in the dead of +winter. He died of pneumonia. Caesar V, our Dictator today, is strong +and quiet. He holds the Empire firmly unified. But he does nothing +extraordinary. And he is too lenient." + +"I just can't conceive of such perfection!" + +Kevin Ilaria smiled. He walked over to the window and peered out. +"_You_ couldn't. But this _is_ the perfect government. Everyone +is satisfied. One ruler. One capitol. One army. One language. One +nationality. One world. One religion." + +"I realize--" Jay halted. "One religion?" he demanded. + +"Yes." + +"What is it?" He found himself afraid of the answer. The indications +were there, in plain sight. He guessed it before Kevin Ilaria turned +from the window and said: + +"Caesarism." + + * * * * * + +The man called Gaius Julius Caesar Imperator V turned from the window +and rubbed his hand over his graying hair. + +"This is the first time I've ever run into anything of this sort." + +The President of the Senate shrugged. He was an old man who had been +placed in the Senate by his father in 1980. So long ago that people +wondered when he would die. They were tired of these old men dictating +to their ruler, as many people before them had been tired. The rise of +the President of the Senate to leadership of that revered group had not +been meteoric by any means. But his maintenance of the position had +been tenacious. He was a careful man. + +The President of the Senate shrugged. "It is. It is the first time +anything of this sort has ever come up, Julius. Therefore it is up to +you to set an example." + +Caesar glanced over at General Bonadella. The General nodded in +agreement with Senator Chianti. + +"This sort of business can break up the Empire if it's allowed to +continue, Caesar," he said, in his pompous military way. "I say death." + +Major DeCosta nodded quietly. + +"Thumbs down all around, is it?" Caesar sat down behind his desk and +picked up the speaker of his private cable to London. He looked at the +three men. + +"Commander in charge of Garrison C," he said. + +There was a silent moment. + +They looked up as Prefect Lamberti of the Pretorians, the Imperial +personal bodyguard (it had progressed far beyond that. Its enrollment +was tremendous; its power second only to the Dictator's) came in. The +Senator nodded. The two field soldiers turned quickly away. The men of +the field did not get along with the Pretorian dandies. + +"Commander? This is the Dictator," Caesar said unnecessarily. The +garrison commander knew that only one person could call him on that +line. The phone would react to no voice other than Caesar's. + +"Have you the fellow who was preaching dissension? I say one year in +prison. You heard me. Yes, one year. What? No! No torture!" He severed +connections and looked up at his advisers. + +Prefect Lamberti shook his head. Senator Chianti turned and stalked +out. After a moment General Bonadella followed. The Major turned away +to stare out the window. He shook his head. + +"del Ponta? This is the Dictator," that quiet, flat voice said behind +him. Caesar was calling the under-chief of the Pretoriani. "I will +speak tomorrow from the balcony. Yes. 1400. Of course. World-wide. +That's right. Oh, I suppose about a quarter 'til." + +The man who ruled the world stood up and stared at Major DeCosta's +back. At forty-one, Caesar was a gaunt man with stooped shoulders and +sad lines running from his nostrils to the corners of his mouth. His +forehead was lined and re-lined, and the keen brown eyes were dulled +with years of decisions and hard work. + +He was tired. + +They called him the Hound because his face bore the same sad, quiet +look worn by those dogs. And they called him weak because he let +offenders off too easily. + +DeCosta turned around. The young Major met his Chief's gaze. + +"Well?" The voice of the Dictator was quiet and calm. + +DeCosta's eyes flickered. He straightened militarily. He shrugged. + +"It is not for me to say, Sir." + +A slow smile spread over those weary features. "And you, Farouk?" + +Lamberti stretched out his arm and balled his fist with the thumb +extended and pointing down. "You know me, Caesar." + +"I do. Even my best friend disagrees with my decisions now, after all +these years of elbow-rubbing. + +"You are usually more out-spoken, Major DeCosta. Have you nothing more +to say?" + +DeCosta's reply was slow in coming but rapid in delivery. "I am around +Caesar much of late," he rapped out. His back was stiff and military as +he strode out of the Dictator's office. + +Prefect Lamberti's gloved hand dropped to the butt of his gun, but +Caesar shook his head in gentle negation. + +Julius Caesar Imperator V gazed sadly at the closed door. + + * * * * * + +Jay had given up trying to reason with Ilaria about God. The +man was intelligent as well as brilliant--there's a tremendous +difference--about everything else, but he was stubbornly obstinate +to Jay's arguments. At least in Jay's terminology he was stubbornly +obstinate. All faith is stubborn obstinacy. Kevin Ilaria's faith was +appalling. His arguments were beautiful. Flawless. Jay thought of his +old friend, Father O'mare. Even that great psychologist-priest would be +hard-put, he decided. + +So he quit. He didn't give up. He just quit. + +Can you tell a man the Earth's flat after he's been up in a jet? + +Can you talk a bullet out of pursuing its path? + +Can you reason with a Marxist? + +"If a man can conquer the greatest enemy the world has ever faced, is +he not God? If he can turn from killing and soldiering to soothing +and pacifying, is he not God? If he can make the world one, after +twenty-two centuries of 'world anarchism' is he not God? If he can +maintain the peace and keep the people happy and heal all sores is he +not God? If he just looks at you when you call him 'God' or 'Savior' +and smiles and say 'I?' is he not God? If he chooses the perfect man to +continue in his place, is he not God?" + +"But that's proof! Why die? Isn't God immortal?" + +"Only God could realize that one man can't continue to reign +indefinitely. His ideas, yes. But he must create another to carry on +his ideas. There must be variety and diversions." + +Unshakeable. Unquestioning. Jay could never understand a person's +sticking to the claim 'I'm a Christian' or 'I'm a Moslem' when he would +be killed for it. Jay had always figured he'd have said to Nero's men +'Me? Me? A filthy Christian? Not I. I love Jupiter and Juno. Step +inside and see my altars ...' + +Now he was seeing what sturdy, rock-firm martyr faith was like. + +So he quit. + +Instead he learned about the gyro-jet cars which hugged the roads like +lovers on a honeymoon. He watched them sprout stubby wings and breathe +flame and soar straight up. He learned about saying 'Open' to a lock +and having the electronic device 'recognize' him and let him in. He +learned about personalphones which 'recognized' your voice. He learned +about the tiny pellet of potassium cyanide and sulphuric acid with +which the guns were loaded. The pellets struck and broke and the victim +was dead in seconds. Very humane. No maimed or wounded. Just the dead. + +He learned about self-shaping sandals--the most comfortable and most +sensible shoes man had ever worn--and air baths and soft-voiced +alarm clocks which politely told you it was time to get up and about +unbreakable ring-finger chronos and about atomic heating and flawless +plumbing and he saw plastic, plastic, plastic. + +He learned about all of them. But his real delight was the depilatory +cream. This, above all others, was man's greatest invention. + +"No shaving ... no silly damned socks or tight, hot shoes or tie ... no +battery stalling or flat tires ... I guess this is paradise, Kevin!" + +"And the perfect government and the perfect religion! All one race! One +religion! One nation! One language! One nationality! One God!" Ilaria +added exuberantly. + +"That reminds me. How come I never see any coloreds?" + +"Haven't you? By the way, no murderous car insurance or alimony laws, +either. And no need for them. All marriages are ideal." + +Jay was readily detoured to this new novelty. + +"Now, don't let's go too far. Identical religion and race and customs +and ideals and opinions may lower the divorce rate a lot, but there's +still ye olde sex angle. A couple can go together twenty years and +break up on the wedding night. Some are hot and some are cold and some +are slow and some are fast. The only thing you could have improved +on, is sex education. It's astounding how many people of my time know +nothing about the sexual part of marriage. The most important part! + +"Of course it's doing what comes naturally; but what if two people +have been taught from different viewpoints? Or if one hasn't been +taught at all? Some people are actually ashamed or embarrassed. There +are intelligent people who don't even know the biological facts! +Few--especially women, know about the pleasure and the habit-forming +angle. That's the one thing than can break up something beautiful in +ten minutes. + +"Education, maybe. Human nature, no." + +"Whew!" + +"Excuse me, Kevin, for launching into a Phillipic, but that's long been +my pet peeve. Atrocious, deplorable, and all that." + +"We don't _usually_ tamper with human nature, Jay. As a rule, that is. +This is going to come as a shock to you, with your silly, 'atrocious +and deplorable' 1954 ideas and morals. + +"A trial period. A pre-marital period of living together for a couple +of weeks. If the couple isn't sexually suited, they either attempt to +have it remedied by a physician or break off." + +"A shock, yes," Jay murmured, slowly shaking his head. "How did it ever +start? Anyone who'd propound an idea like that in my time would be +accused of being some sort of perverted sex-fiend! + +"A foolproof, flawless plan to insure happy marriages!" + + * * * * * + +Half across the world a door swung open and a tall dark man with +piercing black eyes and a twin-tufted beard came in. His dark-green +garment, faintly resembling a trench-coat, was double-breasted and +belted and military cut. His feet were encased in plastileather boots +which clicked as he came to attention before the desk. + +The plate on the desk read "Praefectus Praetoriani." + +"Major del Ponta, Sir." + +The man behind the desk looked up. "At ease, Major." + +Major Ali ben del Ponta relaxed and waited. + +The man behind the desk finished scanning the sheet of micro-paper, +marked something on it with a stylo, stuck it in the pneumatube on the +corner of his desk, and pushed the button to close his desk drawer. He +looked up at Major Ali ben del Ponta. + +"Well?" He put his hands together, fingers touching. + +"It has begun, Prefect Lamberti. All over the world our local men are +leading their followers in attack. Captain Abram Mazzoli has sent in +his report from Tel Aviv. The city is in his hands. Captain Mahomet +DiSanto's 'Raiders' have complete control of the Sahara. Captain +Arnaldi's forces are firmly entrenched in the old Washington area of +America. He will move northward to meet Colonel Magnani's forces from +Canada and Commander Campisano. They--" + +"Campisano's airborne ready to roll?" + +"Yes, Sir. Arrangements have been made. The drop will be just outside +New York." + +"Alright. Then everything has gone off as scheduled?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +Prefect Farouk Lamberti regarded his deskchron thoughtfully. + +"And Caesar will make his speech in twenty-five hours and thirty-three +minutes?" + +Major del Ponta glanced at his own chron, which was strapped to the +third finger of his left hand. "Yes, Sir. At 1400, tomorrow." + +"Have the twenty-foot 'visor screen activated for public showing. Mount +it outside as we'd planned." + +"It's being taken care of, Sir. The screen is on its way to the Square. +There will be a crowd." + +"Good. We all want to hear noble Caesar." + +Del Ponta grinned. "Yes, Sir. We all do. Especially tomorrow." + +"He doesn't know?--or suspect?" + +"He shouldn't Sir. Our men took over and began covering up at once. +You know the atrocious condition of world communications systems. The +Empire could fall and Rome might not hear of it for days." + +"That's what I was counting on ... that and the Disturber. The +degeneracy of the field military is terrible. They are allowing +themselves to get lazy and fat and careless." + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Have my car ready to drive to the Square behind Caesar's tomorrow. +See that the covermen in the houses around the Square are doubled and +double-checked. But when we go to the show, let's not have too great an +exhibition of Imperial power. We don't want this thing to backfire and +cut our own throats." + +"Yes, Sir." Del Ponta's grin widened. + +"Dismissed." + +Del Ponta came to attention, saluted and about-faced and left. + +Prefect Lamberti opened his desk drawer and took out his old service +pistol. It was a gamma gun. He had not released any of the deadly, +slow-acting rays from its chamber in seven years. But it was ready. + +He opened another drawer and took out a white cloak, marked across the +back with a blue dove and the single word 'Liberacione.' + +He checked the pistol. + + * * * * * + +"Does the Emissary from 1954 get to meet Caesar?" Jay wanted to know. + +"Later. He's to make a speech tomorrow afternoon. It will be +world-televised." + +"He looks very old and very tired," Jay ventured. He'd seen Caesar on +transcriptions of old speeches and on old newsreels. + +"He's about ... forty, I think. Somewhat weak. Very lenient." + +"I would've guessed him to be a good deal older." Then "Why weak? +Because he's lenient?" + +Ilaria smiled. "Remember, Jay, 'Pax per Bello.' Too much leniency leads +one's subjects to be bold. Over-bold." + +"One man's opinion?" + +The Tribune shrugged. "No. Caesar doesn't get along with his advisors +too well. They criticize him for being too ready to forgive and forget." + +The more Jay saw of this perfect world, the more he realized how cruel +and hard people must be to maintain a paradise. If everyone is to be +happy, someone must be unhappy. + +The trouble is, people don't like to be told "This is for your own +good." + +Jay said so. + +"But if they're sat on hard enough," Ilaria rebutted, "they don't have +a chance ever to try anything else which they might _think_ is for +their own good...." + +Jay nodded. Very true. As Ilaria left the room Jay went to the window +and looked out at the Louisville of 2054. For the millionth time in the +seven days he'd been here, he wished he had a cigarette. They had been +outlawed as detrimental to health long ago. + +The fact that it had been seven days reminded him of something else +left behind. + +Julie. + +"You're a fool," he finally told himself. No wonder Julie'd been on +edge and acting what he termed 'odd' lately! She was scared. He'd been +out of school three and a half years. He was twenty-five. He'd just +bought a new Olds. He'd begun buying his clothes at _The_ Store rather +than a store. Hell, he should've been married long ago. His days here +were full. There were meetings with scientists and historians and +militarists and linguists and everyone else Kevin could think up. He +talked and listened and discussed and lectured. But he thought of her +every night. Every morning before he rose. At times like this, when he +was alone for a few minutes. + +Of course it was love! He'd always thought too many people threw the +word around too much. He'd always been afraid to use it because he +wasn't sure of its meaning. He's used it once. And he'd been kicked in +the teeth by the girl. He hadn't used it since. + +When was a guy ever sure? + +Hogwash! Now he knew that each man forms his own definition. True, +too many people used the word love indiscriminately. It's mistreated. +Kicked around. Assumed and taken off. Dragged through messes and +scandals and law courts and through the mud. But to a man like Jay +Welch, to a man who has been afraid--yes, afraid--to use it, it _must_ +be there when he begins thinking in those terms. + +Love. He'd had to come across one-hundred years to realize he'd found +its meaning. To realize he'd known its meaning a long time. To realize +that love is whatever you make it, what you, yourself, call it. You +define it yourself. Then you apply it. + +It had been there all the time. You don't include someone in everything +you do and everything you think without it. You don't try to change her +and yourself. To make her perfect. To make yourself perfect with--and +for--her without it. This business about "accepting" little faults--as +well as big ones--, he decided, is for the birds. It's human nature to +translate other people in terms of yourself and try to change them in +terms of yourself. To argue and be proud and hate like hell to have +to make up. But you don't make a project of it with everyone. Not +unless.... + +He and Julie had a lot to talk about. + +Then he remembered where he was and when he was. He thought of Doctor +Schink. And suddenly he was scared. He remembered what Ilaria had said +about Schink. 'He's there for good....' + +"He's never said a word about my going back!" + +"Neither have you," came Ilaria's voice, and Jay whirled around to see +the big psychologist coming through the door. + +"We'd like to keep you here as long as possible. But not against your +wishes, of course. You were shanghaied, not kidnaped." The left corner +of his wide mouth pulled back in that slow, reassuring smile. + +"I stand chastised. Now I've thought of it, though, I can hardly wait." + +"The day after tomorrow? I want you to hear Caesar speak. Then I want +to talk a good deal more." + +"Early, the day after tomorrow." Then, little-boyishly, Jay hurriedly +added a couple of reasons. "I'm getting tired of talking and being +questioned. I feel like a talking animal in the zoo." + +Ilaria nodded, smiling. "Julie? + +"I figured it would occur to you sooner or later. Just because you +think a little more deeply and carefully than most men of your time +doesn't make you immune to love. That belongs to _all_ times. Good luck +and a lot of children." + +Jay grinned. He'd met Ilaria's wife and five of his six children the +night before. He turned to look out the window once more. + +Beautiful. The elevated streets, with gyro-cars hurtling along ... the +sky full of more winged gyros and planes ... the streets below full of +happy, white-faced, white-clad people.... + +White-faced! + +"Kevin, you avoided my question the day before yesterday. I've been +almost afraid to ask you again. Why no Negroes?" + +"It will be hard for you to accept, with your antiquated democratic +ideas." Ilaria breathed a deep sigh. "Certain elements of dissension +and unrest, Jay, are better eliminated. Coloreds have always bred both. +People are just like that. Whites and yellows and tans and reds can get +along, but not blacks." + +Jay had gotten along with them all his life. "In ancient Rome there +were slaves ..." he said, trying to understand. + +"Not in this Rome. I said, better eliminated, Jay." Ilaria went to the +window and looked down at the scene below. He explained: + +"We exterminated them." + +A hammer crashed down. A door slammed. A glass shattered. A siren +screeched. A punch caught Jay in the solar plexus. Jay had experienced +all these. Ilaria's flat statement was worse. + +"Exter--No! Oh, No!" He swung around to face the big psychologist. +Ilaria's usual smile was gone. He looked solemn and very grim. + +"You weren't ready for it. I don't think we can discuss it. Just +remember this: When you've a bunch of dogs and they all get along with +one another except one, you don't leave them together and you don't try +to keep them separated by a chicken-wire fence. It's too unpleasant. +You get rid of the troublemaker." + + * * * * * + +During the night the rebel forces moved out of Tel Aviv and took over +Israel. They captured the entire devastated Washington area, a series +of ten cities ringing Rome, and hundreds of other key spots. The +world's largest airbase at Madrid, Spain, was taken. Forces sent to the +aid of the base defenders were met by an onslaught of their own planes. +The troops didn't have a chance. + +Dr. Montmorency Trumperi's Wave Disturber had been outlawed in 2001. +The plans were carefully filed away and the machine's component parts +junked. But the Disturber suddenly reappeared on the night of June 9, +2054, and world communications were stopped. Lamberti's scientists had +come up with a counter-radio mechanism, of course, so that the Rebels +were able to maintain contacts. + +Louisville was not attacked. Lamberti and his men knew about the +emissary from the past sheltered there, and informed their fifth +columnists at Standiford they wanted both the Man From 1954 and Tribune +Kevin Ilaria alive. + +New York was attacked by land and air. Tokyo fell. Everywhere white +flags with the blue Liberacione and the picture of a dove fluttered +above smoking battlegrounds. Everywhere men were on the march. + + * * * * * + +When Tribune Kevin Ilaria stormed in twelve hours later, Jay noticed +his friend was wearing his gun again. The cyanide pistol had not swung +at his hip since the day of Jay's arrival. He was also surprised to +note that Ilaria wore boots and carried a steel helmet under his arm. + +There was a new quality in his voice. Brittle, static. The soft tones +of the psychologist were gone. + +Jay realized that this was Tribune Ilaria of the Forces, not Dr. Ilaria +the psychologist. + +"You sure you want to leave here tomorrow?" he demanded curtly. + +Instantly Jay was on the defence. "I am," he said coldly. + +Ilaria's smile looked forced. "I've been authorized to offer you a +Sub-Tribunate in the Forces." + +"What?" + +"You've had experience. None of us have. You've been in actual combat, +in the Air Force." + +"Why? I don't--" + +"War," Ilaria said simply. "Rebellion." + +Jay stared at him. He couldn't think of anything to say. + +Ilaria turned away. "Paradise. The Iron Hand. One religion and one +language and all that. Utterly cock-sure. But ... we were wrong. +They've been getting ready. Training and planning. Collecting men and +arms. They began even before the empire was established."--Jay noticed +he said empire rather than republic--"All this time they've been +preparing and planning and ... waiting." + +Jay was dumbfounded. "How big is it?" + +Kevin Ilaria spread his hands. "Big enough. Their attack seems to +have been simultaneous all over the world. Something like commando or +guerrilla tactics. Quick, quiet attacks on a small scale." + +He told Jay about the Tel Aviv incident and about Captain Spagnoletti +and a half-track disappearing in the rubble in the Washington area and +about intercontinental communication being shut off. + +"Bomb 'em out," Jay said, without thinking. + +"You don't bomb out fifth columnists, Jay. + +"Last night they captured London and Tokyo and two-thirds of New York +and they captured Lollabrigida airbase in Madrid. They're wearing PR +uniforms and some kind of new uniform they've dreamed up. Most of them +aren't even uniformed. It's a hell of a mess." + +"How long do you think it'll take to quell the thing?" + +"I have no idea. I'm to take command at Standiford Field. Rinaldi +solved the saboteur problem ... it was Colonel Di Orio. Rinaldi and +some of his boys caught the Colonel and a few of _his_ men in the Radio +Room on the special 'Liberacione' wave length." + +"In irons?" Jay wanted to know. + +"No. They put up a fight. They were killed." + +"You're flying?" + +"Doubt it. I'll be one of those behind-the-scenes men. Supposed to be +valuable. Only in a mess like this you can't tell what's behind the +scenes and what's front line. They're liable to start on Louisville +next." + +Ilaria hitched self-consciously at his gun-belt. He twisted his helmet +around a couple of times before he set it gingerly on his head. He +turned and opened the door and went out. His head came back in and said: + +"I'm not sure it's the sort of thing you quell, Jay." + +"Kevin! Wait! What'm I supposed to--" + +He was gone. + +Jay thought only a moment. Then he switched on the phone. At least +intercom systems were still in operation. The clerk at the desk +upstairs looked at him from the screen. + +"This is the Man From 1954," Jay said, using the name by which everyone +called him. "Stop Tribune Ilaria as he goes out." + +In an instant Kevin's head appeared. + +"I'll go with you. Shall I get my uniform before we go to Standiford or +after?" + +Ilaria grinned. "After," he said. "Grab the elevator and come on up." + +This isn't your fight, Jay Welch, a voice told him as he opened the +door. You don't even belong here, Jay Welch, the voice told him as he +ran out into the hall. You're crazy to go to bat for these monsters, +Jay Welch, the voice told him as he pushed the elevator button. You +fought before for a bunch of people who didn't appreciate it one +damned bit, Jay Welch. Remember about the Iron Hand and the Negroes, +the voice told him as the doors opened and he stepped in. Remember you +were shanghaied, it said, as the car shot upward and the bottom of his +stomach felt as if it had been left behind. Remember you were going +back to Duo Point and Herman's and Joe Scaccia's restaurant and Julie +and tie and suit and Julie and the tight shoes and Julie and personal +freedom and Julie and Jerry, the black guy you worked with and liked +so well and Julie and the new Olds and Julie. Tomorrow you were going +back. + +The doors shot back. He stepped out on the roof. + +"Mister Welcci?" said the clerk. "That's Tribune Ilaria's plane over +there." + +He pointed to the little PR ship marked with the three silver diamonds +of a Tribune and the staff of psychology. Jay ran. Wind was whipping +across the roof and their cloaks streamed out and fluttered. The three +men came together. + +"This is Commander DeVito, Jay. Commander, Jay Welch, The Man From +1954." The way Ilaria said it always made it sound capitalized. + +They shook hands. They got into the plane and shot straight up and the +city was a blur beneath them. In less than a minute the little flier +dropped down faster than any elevator and landed at Standiford. + +"Sergeant, Sub-Tribune Welcci needs a uniform. A--" + +"Forty long," Jay suggested, then colored. Tunic and a hundred years +made a difference in his size. He went with the supply-sergeant, who +gave him a correct fit the first time--times _have_ changed, Jay +grunted--and fitted him with a helmet on the second try. He felt a +tremor as he buckled on the pellet gun. With the cloak flapping about +his heels and the gun banging his leg and the helmet biting his ear +he ran to the elevator and down to the room Kevin had designated. +The Tribune and Commander DeVito and five or six other officers were +standing around a table in the steel-walled underground room. + +Before them was a gigantic map. They looked up as Jay burst in. + +"This is The Man From 1954," Ilaria said. There were hand-shakes all +around that reminded Jay of fraternity rush. DeVito and one of the +others wore wings. Jay wondered if that were still a pilot's insignia. + +The red X's on the map, they told him, were places under attack. The +blue ones were areas taken by the fast-moving rebels. He learned that +the messenger-jet they'd sent to Rome--they were lost without their +instantaneous push-button communications system--hadn't made it. More +had been sent. Meanwhile they were on their own. + +The nearest major battle was at Chicago, where Cocuzzi Flight Base was +located. Ilaria despatched Commander DeVito and something like fifty +jet fighters to Chicago. The other man was in charge of a group of B-90 +Stratosonic bombers. They lifted their fists in stiff-armed salute and +left. + +"The rest of the ships will remain here, ready for instant take-off. +I'll command interception. Sub-Tribune Rinaldi will command the base in +case I have to go up. + +"I can't understand why we haven't been jumped yet. We must assume +they'll attack Louisville because of Standiford and the Time Building. +They'll also be interested in you, Jay." + + * * * * * + +By 2:00 that afternoon Louisville had not yet been attacked. Abruptly +at 1:59 world communications went into operation. Everyone turned on +his television set, wondering if Caesar's talk would go on as scheduled. + +It did. There was a screaming crowd before the Capitol. On the high +balcony stood the Dictator. At his side stood Senator Chianti and +around them were ringed Caesar's Pretorian Guards. The city was nearly +empty of field soldiers. They had gone out to meet the insurgents. + +"People of the Republic of Rome." The noise subsided as Caesar raised +his hands and spoke. + +"You have all heard of the revolt now in progress against us throughout +the Empire." + +Ilaria nodded at the Caesar's psychologically clever use of the word us. + +"With your aid, my people, we can put a quick end to this treason. +You have seen better than half a century of peaceful, successful +government. These traitors and conspirators would attempt to overthrow +our government and put an end to this peace ... this Peace of Rome. + +"The world is now in a state of emergency. If you, my people, will bear +with me through this period of crisis we will return to our world of +peace and serenity once more." + +Cheers. Wild applause. + +"They believe him," Jay murmured. + +Ilaria looked at him. "Of course," he said. + +"For a long time our Empire has remained ..." + +Caesar's face stiffened. The deep-set, weary eyes blazed and widened. +His hand reached out for the railing. Then he stiffened again and was +limp as the bursting pellet of sulphuric acid and potassium cyanide +took effect. + +Gaius Julius Caesar Imperator V fell. + +There was uproar and clamor and shrieking. + +Jay and Ilaria stood, staring, as the Pretorian Guards levelled their +guns and became a solid, surrounding wall. The T-V cameramen were +getting the scene of the century. + +"Lamberti!" Ilaria bit out. + +The Pretorian Prefect, his hands outspread, stood on the balcony over +Caesar's body. The white cloak with Liberacione on it fluttered about +him. A couple of Pretorians came out with an amplifier. + +"Friends, Romans, Countrymen," said Farouk Lamberti. + +"--every available long-range ship to Rome," Ilaria's brittle voice +was hacking out orders. "Every one. Contact every other base while +communications are still working!" + +"... a noble man. But not the man to govern Earth. No, not he nor his +government. I bring you a new government. I, Farouk Lamberti, long his +best friend, have done this not to him, but for him. For you. The Earth +was not meant to be governed by a system of--" + +"Yes, I said bomb Rome." + +Sub-Tribune Rinaldi smiled. "But Kevin, my friend, we can't bomb +Lamberti just when he's getting a good start." + +Jay looked up. Kevin Ilaria spun around. "What?" + +"Never trust old friends, Kevin. Colonel Di Orio didn't. He surprised +us in the Radio Room and we were forced to put him out of the way. Also +remember this: all members of the Liberacione carry gamma pistols." + +Rinaldi pulled out his gamma gun and shot Ilaria through the middle. + +Jay was horrified. He forgot where he was and when he was and what he +was doing. All he knew was that there was a cyanide gun at his hip and +that this man had shot Ilaria. His gun came up and sputtered. + +The pellet caught Rinaldi just under the chin and burst. Rinaldi +collapsed. + +"Had a--gamma gun--not ... deadly. Slow-acting ... radio-activity. +Hardly ... burned me. Come on--we've got to ... get back to the--Time +building." + +"Oh, no we won't. You're hurt. We--" + +"Don't argue. Sergeant! Saaarguunt!" Ilaria gasped at the exertion of +shouting. The Centurion ran in. + +"We've got to--get to the--Time building." + +"Rinaldi shot the Tribune. Rinaldi was a traitor," Jay explained +rapidly. + +Ilaria's gun clicked and the Centurion shuddered back and fell through +the door. The gamma burst from his pistol hit the wall. + +"God! Is everyone a traitor?" Jay demanded of the Universe. + + * * * * * + +People are easily swayed. It didn't take them long to espouse the new +cause. They were helped along in their decision by the Liberacione +planes hovering overhead with loads of KCN-H2SO4 bombs. The whispering +campaign Lamberti had carefully started about germ warfare helped, too. +Those who didn't switch over rapidly were jumped by the new forces. +Tribune Ilaria in Louisville, Kentucky, in America held out as long +as he could. Then the bombers came. And the Tribune fled to the Time +building. + +The building shook. A table shivered and a lamp shattered. A jet +fighter flew close by the window and the Centurion watched fearfully as +it flipped on one delta wing and fired a tracer burst into a PR ship. +The defender exploded in mid-air. + +Ilaria looked twenty years older than the man who had smiled and +welcomed Jay Welch to 2054. He and a young scientist were preparing the +machine to send the man from 1954 back to his own time. + +"You'll have to leave the gun here, Jay." Ilaria winced as he bent over +a set of dials. + +"I'd like to keep the uniform." + +"All right. Does that do it, Doctor?" + +The scientist nodded. He looked at Jay. "It's ready," he said. + +"This switch sets everything in motion, doesn't it?" Ilaria asked. + +"Yes. That's the final control." + +"Then ... I'll do it. I'd like ... to say something to Jay before he +leaves." + +The scientist hesitated a moment, then shrugged and left. The Centurion +went to the door. He was a young man and fanatically loyal. + +"You all right, Tribune?" + +Ilaria smiled. "I'm ... all right, Sergeant." + +The Centurion nodded and left. + +"Sit ... sit down in that chair, Jay, and do your best to relax." + +Jay sat down. A bomber roared overhead. There was a blast nearby. + +"What will you do now, Kevin?" + +Ilaria shrugged. "Fight 'em 'til they come in and we're sunk. Then +I'll join 'em. Why--why die a martyr's death?" + +Of course, Jay told himself. Logical. But Kevin had been so convinced. +So utterly sure. Now he looked and sounded like a disillusioned old man. + +"Kevin, I'm not trying to rub it in. But--" + +"I know what you're going to say. I was so sure. Paradise. I was a firm +disciple. Convinced. I believed in all of it. I--thought it would last +forever. The perfect government. A permanently _workable_ government." + +Jay sat quietly. Ilaria reached for the switch. + +"For God's sake," came the voice of 1954, "what _is_ the perfect +workable government?" + +Ilaria closed the switch and the light blinded Jay. He felt as if +someone had slugged him in the stomach. Slowly the machine prepared to +send him back one-hundred years. It warmed up like a jet on a runway. + +The light faded and Jay opened his eyes. The building rocked. There was +a terrific explosion and part of the steel wall buckled. Somewhere a +woman screamed. A squadron of fighters hurtled past, spitting fire and +death. A bomber fell, exploding as it crashed into a tall apartment +building. Jay's stomach twisted and he knew he was on his way. Ilaria +took his gun from his holster and calmly placed its ugly snout against +his own face. + +"... the perfect workable government?" Jay's question of a moment ago +reached his ears as he began to slip back, minute by minute, picking up +momentum. Ilaria's reply came dimly. + +"There is none." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of And Gone Tomorrow, by Andy Offut + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58784 *** |