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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Turn backward, o time!, by Walter

-Kubilius

-

-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

-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before

-using this eBook.

-

-Title: Turn backward, o time!

-

-Author: Walter Kubilius

-

-Release Date: April 7, 2023 [eBook #70496]

-

-Language: English

-

-Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed

-             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

-

-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURN BACKWARD, O TIME! ***

-

-

-

-

-

-                        TURN BACKWARD, O TIME!

-

-                          By Walter Kubilius

-

-                    The one hope for Donovan was to

-                    escape into the past, become a

-                  citizen of the early 20th Century.

-                  But he overlooked the aftermath....

-

-           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from

-                  Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951.

-         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that

-         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

-

-

-"Adel W. Crane, C.D." Donovan held the Identi-plast in his hands, the

-fingers trembling slightly. "What do the letters 'C.D.' stand for?"

-he asked, determined to play the part of an honest citizen who had no

-interest in unlicensed rejuvenation or time travel.

-

-The chalk-faced young man with the fixed smile told him: "Cyclic

-Detection. You may have heard our more dramatic nickname, Criminal

-Destroyers; I've been an agent since 2452."

-

-High-strung Donovan moistened his lips. Of course he had heard of the

-C.D. In an age when cyclic travel backward through the centuries was

-an established science, the Komitet that governed the Home Planet

-had to employ ruthless measures to cope with any experimenters whose

-uncontrolled work might threaten to change past temporal cycles. The

-C.D. were the scavengers of the World Komitet; they scoured the past

-centuries eliminating illegal and unlicensed cyclic travellers. In a

-rigidly-controlled solar system there were thousands of law-breakers,

-political disappointees, and even youth-seekers like Donovan, who hoped

-for life-extensions in past ages. The C.D., with terror and all the

-resources of the solar system, hunted them down and exterminated them.

-Quietly, ruthlessly, and painfully.

-

-"The criminal Blascomb," Crane said, the fixed smile still on the thin

-lips, "has been observed near the Donovan metallurgical plants. The

-Komitet suspects that someone close to your office may have established

-contact with him for illegal rejuvenation."

-

-His eyes left Donovan's taut face and scanned the office walls. Control

-boards recording operations in extra-terrestial metallin plants lined

-two sides of the office. The only break in the sternness of the walls

-was an antique painting, a still-life abstraction that must have dated

-way back to the 20th century. Crane stared at its flashes of color, the

-fixed smile turning to amused contempt.

-

-Donovan dared not ask for additional details. The word or whim of the

-Komitet was law. Criminal Destroyer! Donovan shuddered; he had spent

-the past six months in quietly transferring ownership of the Trust to

-various fronts for Blascomb. A fortune worth several erg-units squared

-to the 6th power had already changed hands. Had the C.D. caught him

-before Blascomb could deliver on the rejuvenation and time-escape deal?

-

-"We have nothing to hide," Donovan said, "my staff will cooperate with

-the C.D. I assume you want access to the psycho-record files?"

-

-Edel W. Crane, contemptuous eyes turning away from the still-life,

-reached a bony hand for the approval slip.

-

-"I will let you know what I find."

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-Donovan stood up, and when the C.D. agent left he frantically sent out

-a conscious call to Blascomb's thought-frequency number.

-

-"By the Komitet!" Blascomb's wave-induced voice rang in Donovan's

-ears, "I told you never to call me unless it was most urgent."

-

-"This is urgent," Donovan thought desperately, "Crane, a C.D. agent,

-was here a minute ago. He's going to look over the books of the Trust."

-

-"He won't find a thing," Blascomb's thoughts were confident in

-Donovan's mind, "They haven't caught a single one of the men I've sent

-back into the 17th century; just be patient and we'll cyclic you out

-within a week."

-

-"Then hurry. My heart's in bad shape and I can't last much longer. I'm

-practically being kept alive by that rotten Callistan serum."

-

-"Stay alive for one more week," Blascomb thought encouragingly, "and

-you'll be young for centuries."

-

-_Turn backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight!_ The song sped

-through Donovan's mind, lifting his spirits. To be young again, and to

-be free from the constant supervision and threat of the terrifying C.D.!

-

-"As for Crane," Blascomb went on, "It's part of the service I'm giving

-you. We've arranged a false-lead case in your office. Crane has his

-talons set for your brother-in-law. Shortly before the C.D. annihilates

-him your escape will be arranged to throw suspicion upon him. We will

-make it seem that your brother-in-law killed you for denouncing him

-to the C.D. Crane will never see through the subterfuge; you'll be

-safe--perhaps forever."

-

-His brother-in-law's life was a cheap price to pay for youth. Donovan

-stared at his stiff, corpse-like hands. All he needed was one more

-week. He would make one more effort to secure a Life-Extension--and

-then....

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-The Examiner for the Board of Life waited while Donovan dressed. The

-answer could already be seen in the official's eyes.

-

-"No?"

-

-"I'm sorry," the Examiner said, "but the laws of the Komitet are

-fairly stringent. Only those whose social value is above Par 195 may

-be rejuvenated. Not much value is placed upon engineers and Trust

-managers who can easily be replaced from each year's Birth Quota. The

-application is denied, and there's no use appealing it."

-

-"It's unjust!" Donovan exclaimed, ignoring the alarming pain in

-his failing heart. "All I want is ten more years--not even a full

-return to youth! If there's no room on Home Planet, let me go the

-extra-terrestials or even some asteroid. I'll make any contribution

-required to...."

-

-The Examiner, who had often heard such vain pleas, rapped his desk

-with the blood-analyscope. "The Komitet is far too wise to permit

-socially unnecessary extensions of the life span, just as it does not

-permit unlicensed time travel. What would happen if we allowed you

-to be rejuvenated, and then permitted extra-terrestial emigration?

-There would be millions of old or sick people like you demanding

-equal treatment and equal consideration. Before long the planets

-and asteroids would be overpopulated and independent colonies set

-up thereon which would eventually come in conflict with the Home

-Planet Komitet. No, my friend, the Komitet is wise in decreeing that

-rejuvenation and human birth are mutually contradictory. Rather than

-sacrifice birth, with the consequent stagnation of the human species,

-the Komitet has decided rigidly to control youth-extensions, and grants

-those periods of additional life only to the socially valuable."

-

-"Yes," Donovan said bitterly, "the Komitet keeps itself immortal while

-the rest of us have to die."

-

-The Examiner's voice was hard. "Shall I denounce you to the C.D.?"

-

-"I beg forgiveness," Donovan said; "your decision is a just one and I

-shall make no appeal."

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-Blascomb had a very persistent thought-call. Donovan relaxed in the

-office chair and let his consciousness-levels sink to the call-number.

-

-"This is the moment," the thought patterns registered. "The C.D.

-is about to close in with the faked evidence we've prepared. Your

-brother-in-law's about to call. Trust in me; all is ready. Do not

-become frightened, for excessive adrenalin might upset the required

-endocrine balance."

-

-Before he could frame a reply, Blascomb's thought faded away. The

-office door slid open and Edel W. Crane walked in. Donovan's heart

-throbbed painfully: was this an unexpected crisis in their plans, or

-had Blascomb prepared even this?

-

-"The C.D.'s finished its analysis," Crane said, "I thought you might be

-interested."

-

-"Naturally, I--"

-

-"The case was very simple. I wish citizens would realize that they

-cannot fight against the enormous resources of the C.D. We will

-destroy--"

-

-The public-screen flashed urgently. Donovan excused himself and turned

-the knob. His brother-in-law's angry face switched into view.

-

-"Donovan! That was a dirty rotten thing to do. What right did you have

-to denounce me to the C.D.? I should kill you for this!"

-

-Donovan's bewilderment was genuine. He felt Crane's eyes upon him, and

-a thrill of admiration for Blascomb's genius suddenly swept through him.

-

-"What do you want?" he managed to say.

-

-"I've got to see you immediately. I'm downstairs, in back of the

-pilo-cab station."

-

-"Later--"

-

-"Now!"

-

-The image snapped off. Donovan turned to the C.D. agent. "'Scuse me for

-a moment," he stammered, "some family trouble. I'll be back in a short

-while."

-

-Crane glanced up. "I'll wait."

-

-Donovan walked through his office, conscious that he was doing this

-for the last time. Rejuvenation was like death. You put an end to a

-lifetime casually and without haste.

-

-At the pilo-cab station, the wind cutting down from the whirr of

-swooping cabs, Donovan met Blascomb. There were two bright flashes, and

-then the smell of disintegrated flesh. Blascomb gestured toward two

-graying pools on the plasticized floor in back of them.

-

-"Murder and suicide," he said, obviously pleased with himself, "The

-C.D. will think you are dead. The murderer's body is also there to

-provide a motive for the transfer of the Trust's funds in the event

-Crane becomes too thorough. He'll be here soon; we work fast now."

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-The special pilo-cab dropped them into a gravity-shielded warehouse

-above the European Desert. It housed Blascomb's laboratory. The

-rejuvenation process was even simpler than Donovan had expected.

-

-"Not the Fountain of Youth, exactly," Blascomb explained as he plunged

-in the needle, "but a selective antibody that attacks only aging tissue

-and forces replacements practically on an embryonic level of activity.

-Unlike the Callistan serum, which is merely a stimulant, this antibody

-creates from its destroyed tissue a catalyst capable of stimulating

-chromosomes and genes. By the very process of feeding upon itself, the

-body grows younger. The net result is a reversal of the life process,

-an anabolism making you grow younger, year by year."

-

-"Eventually to disappear as a single cell?"

-

-"Ultimately, yes. Long before that period, probably when you're a

-young man, you'll have to return to 2482 for a reversion to normal

-metabolism."

-

-"The process can be repeated?"

-

-"Indefinitely."

-

-Donovan breathed deeply. "Immortality!"

-

-Blascomb did not smile. "Only if the C.D. does not find you. Unlicensed

-rejuvenation is punishable by execution in an extremely painful manner.

-You're a doomed man now if the C.D. even finds you. The worst tortures

-of the Middle Ages would be nothing compared to what Crane would do to

-you or me if he tracks us down."

-

-"You can stay in the present time-cycle," Donovan said, "but I'm tired

-of control and supervision. Send me to some period where an individual

-had a chance to work and live without state control. Give me the times

-of individualism!"

-

-"C.D. agents are everywhere in the time-cycles, tracking down illegal

-immigrants. Quite a number of the men I've rejuvenated chose the

-Renaissance for escape, but I'm afraid that a good part of that cycle's

-carnage was the work of such C.D. agents as our friend Crane. I'd

-recommend another period."

-

-"The Golden Age of Greece?"

-

-Blascomb shook his head. "Already taken. Aristotle, Plato, and a few

-others are 25th century men. Archimedes was murdered by a C.D. agent,

-and Socrates sent to his death by a group of them."

-

-"Their fates were known to history--why did those men leave the 25th

-century to live in that cycle?"

-

-He shrugged his shoulders. "They probably felt that the few years of

-extra life were worth it. Well, into what period do you want to go and

-what would you do there?"

-

-"I do not understand the paradoxes," Donovan said, "What if I chose to

-build gravity-deflectors in Ancient Rome?"

-

-"It would be impossible because there were no such manufacturers then.

-It would mean that you were either promptly killed by a C.D. agent who

-recognized the anachronistic attempt, or you had changed your mind."

-

-"But if I can choose any period, it means that I can alter history at

-will--which presumes that the present can also be changed."

-

-"That is what the Komitet believes, and that is why the C.D. is so

-ruthless and brutal with unlicensed time travellers. The real answer

-is that in the final analysis your decision to choose a certain

-time period is already made, and the things you will do are already

-determined. Free will is an illusion; it is synonymous with incomplete

-perception."

-

-"Then send me into the 20th century. As an engineer I would be able to

-make some sort of living there."

-

-"Dangerous. Don't practice your profession. Study some field which is

-completely alien to you so that should you come across a C.D. agent he

-would not recognize the work of a 25th century man."

-

-"You mean like an artist or a writer?"

-

-"Why not?"

-

-Donovan laughed. "I've never held a paint brush or written more than a

-one-page letter, but why not? Unloose the cyclic band, Blascomb; set me

-loose in the 20th century, and give my regards to the C.D.!"

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-In the dimly lighted garret above the tavern, Donovan stood before his

-easel. His face was no longer lined, for the past twenty-five years

-had made him a much younger man. He had taken Blascomb's advice and

-had studied a field completely alien to him. In his own time, the 25th

-century, his paintings would have been considered laughably amateurish,

-but for 1926 they were infinitely superior to anything produced by 20th

-century artists.

-

-"Why can't they _see_?" he asked his agent angrily, when his third show

-passed without the sale of a single painting.

-

-"I can see them," the agent said, standing in front of a still-life

-abstraction with flashes of color, "but your way of working is too far

-advanced for our time. Believe me, a few hundred years from now your

-paintings will be regarded as the work of a great genius."

-

-"In the meantime, I starve."

-

-"I can help you."

-

-Donovan threw down the paint brushes. "No. No. There's no use being

-ahead of one's time. I can't make a living as an artist. I may as well

-go back to digging ditches."

-

-"Maybe you can work part-time and paint at night. What did you do

-before you started painting?"

-

-He hesitated, but what was there to be afraid of? "I--I was an

-engineer."

-

-"I can get you a job with a construction company."

-

-"No. No! I want nothing whatever to do with engineering! Nothing!"

-

-In the 25 years that he had lived in the 20th century he had turned

-from a man of 65 to a healthy, robust 40. For a long time he had lived

-in fear that the dreaded arms of the C.D. would reach out for him, and

-that he would stand face to face with terror-inspiring Crane. But he

-had never met anyone who seemed to be a C.D., a Criminal Destroyer.

-Sometimes he felt the avenging sword of the Komitet hanging over his

-head.

-

-There were some statesmen and philosophers mentioned in the newspapers

-whose ideas seemed to indicate a 25th century origin, but he avoided

-them in the fear that they might be plants to draw out the illegals. It

-was probably that the C.D. would never find out the deception, and if

-they did there was little chance of locating him among the two billion

-people on Home Planet.

-

-"You have to make a living somehow," the agent persisted.

-

-"I know nothing but engineering," Donovan said, "and that I will never

-do."

-

-"Maybe there's some other field in which you could use engineering

-skills." He thought for a moment, and then reached into his briefcase.

-"I picked this up on a newsstand. You might like it."

-

-Donovan glanced at the magazine's cover.

-

-"It's the latest thrill--scientific fiction. Maybe with your

-engineering knowledge you could write a story or two."

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-When the agent left, Donovan read through the magazine, then went

-out to look up other stories of the same nature. One story offered a

-time-travel theory which was absurdly inaccurate. Another purported

-to deal with the inhabitants of Mars, none of which looked at all

-the way the writers imagined them to be. Donovan read as many as he

-could find, and was fascinated by the hopeless incompetence and

-scientific inaccuracy of the so-called writers. The time-travel story

-was laughable; even a child could produce a far more exciting tale by

-describing the Watson-Gorshevich experiments that lead to the discovery

-of repetitive time-cycles back in 2364.

-

-_Why not_, he thought to himself. _Why not write these stories of

-the future? Who could do them better than a man who had come from

-the future?_ These were not engineering journals where accuracy was

-required, nor would anyone ever act upon the scientific discoveries he

-might record. Above all, no one would attempt to build any machines

-which would immediately attract the attention of the C.D. He would do

-nothing which would in the slightest way affect historic development.

-

-Pressed by the need for money, and fascinated by the possibilities

-in science fiction, Donovan began to write a story. He employed a

-pen-name, and avoided the general theory of retrograde-cycle travel

-backward above time, but limited himself to travelling spirally into

-the future. He described the mechanism he himself would have to produce

-in order to get back to Blascomb for anabolism-correction, and produced

-a fanciful tale regarding life in the year 3,000. The letter from the

-editor came within a week.

-

-    _Dear Mr. Donovan_:

-

-    _Enclosed find check for your story, "Turn Backward, O Time!" I have

-    seldom read a more convincing fantasy. One could almost believe that

-    the apparatus you described would actually work. I believe this

-    story will be a science-fiction classic and am placing your original

-    manuscript in my collection. I would appreciate seeing other

-    examples of your work._

-

-When the story appeared in print, several paragraphs describing

-the construction of the time-machine were omitted by the editor.

-"Technically unconvincing," they told him; "they mar up the

-verisimilitude of a great story." "Turn Backward, O Time!" became an

-instant success.

-

-A few days later, Donovan contributed another story, this time based

-on actual events on Jupiter which he simply transferred to a different

-time-cycle on Vega. Vaguely recalling some warning of Blascomb's that

-while the future could not be changed, it was best to play safe and

-not draw the attention of the C.D., he twisted and changed all the

-scientific facts involved. The check for the second story was promptly

-sent.

-

-Within a few months Donovan, under his pseudonym, which was kept

-secret, was launched upon his career as a writer of science fiction.

-Readers praised him for his convincing fantasy and editors competed for

-his services.

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-Memory of the 25th century gradually faded from his mind as years

-passed. At times he awoke in horror after nightmares that Crane of the

-C.D. had finally caught him, but these terrifying dreams became rarer.

-He had exposed himself repeatedly in fiction. Time and time again he

-had described actual historical events of the Space Colony Wars in

-his stories. On one occasion he described the technique for the cure

-of cancer discovered in 2019. The readers' section of the magazine

-soon carried letters from doctors who were amused that a writer could

-present such a simple household remedy and dare suggest that it might

-be efficacious for cancer.

-

-Donovan was amused by the thought that Crane might be diligently

-searching for him somewhere in the Renaissance; if so, the C.D. agent's

-fury must be mounting.

-

-He changed his name and identity every ten years to conceal his gradual

-return to youth. He had the pleasure of seeing himself hailed as his

-successor in popularity, as he established new names and let the older

-ones die out. His excuse to the editors was that he wanted to enter

-into competition anew, make sure that his name alone was not carrying

-the stories. He was happy. Sometimes, however, later stories were

-panned by "fans" as "imitations of the classics by the greatest stf

-writer the world has ever known."

-

-Only the aging gentleman who had bought Donovan's first manuscript

-knew, but the old man signed the checks and said nothing.

-

-In his happiness and self-satisfaction, Donovan became more careless

-with his stories. If he had been able to outwit Crane and the dreaded

-C.D., surely he could dash off stories good enough for the poor minds

-of 20th century science-fiction readers!

-

-Then the tide turned. Fan letters in the magazines began really to tear

-into his fiction; they _were_ third-rate; they lacked imagination.

-They were ordinary stories written by an ordinary mind; and science

-fiction required tales written by men whose minds were well ahead of

-20th century thought. The day finally came when all the editors began

-rejecting his stories. First one, then another--and finally every story

-written received a rejection slip.

-

-Donovan could not understand the reason for the change. A few years

-ago--or was it decades?--each story of his was labelled a "classic";

-now they were not even acceptable. Had science fiction changed so much

-since his decision to become a writer in 1929? He dared not discuss it

-with anyone, for he had no friends and he trusted no one. The C.D. was

-everywhere, but there was one man in whom he had the deepest confidence.

-

-Donovan visited the aging editor and felt sorry for the worn-out old

-man. He himself had once been like this, but was now free from death.

-He thought of taking his benefactor with him into the 25th century

-and saving the editor's life. But suppose Blascomb's laboratory had

-been captured? Donovan could manage for himself, but it would be cruel

-to leave the old man in the deadly hands of the C.D. No, it was best

-to say nothing about rejuvenation to the editor; he would only think

-Donovan was trying out a story-idea.

-

-"I've been your editor for thirty years," the old man's voice cracked.

-His half-blind eyes loomed through thick lenses.

-

-"It's been a long time," Donovan said.

-

-"My--My eyes are not what they used to be," the other said, "A man

-about 50 years old wrote that great classic, "Turn Backward, O Time!"

-He must be about 80 now. But you look only 20. Ah, laddie, you're

-trying to fool me. You must be his son!"

-

-"That's right," Donovan said quickly, "We have the same name."

-

-"Then that explains it," the other said wearily; "it would break my old

-heart if a talent like your father's disintegrated. But we came to talk

-about your stories. No, son, you're not the writer your father was.

-Your tales lack imagination; there is no originality in them. The ideas

-are hackneyed, the writing third-rate. They sound like poor imitations

-of the great tales told by your father. There was a man! There was a

-writer!"

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-Donovan left him, keeping the secret of his identity. When he returned

-to his home he looked in the mirror, and the face of a rose-cheeked

-20-year-old youngster stared back at him. Fifty years of happy living

-in the 20th century! It would soon be necessary to return to the 25th

-century so that Blascomb could reverse the antibiotic catalytic process

-that had set him growing younger. It was impossible to stay in his

-present youthful state much longer. In a few years he would be a child.

-

-With a sigh he walked to his desk, took out paper and pen, and began to

-draw the diagrams for the apparatus which would send him forward into

-the 25th century.

-

-For three hours he worked confidently, and then the sweat began to drip

-from his forehead and his heart began to pound fearfully. "It is not

-possible," he said, uneasily. "It will all come back to me soon. Now

-what the devil did Blascomb tell me?"

-

-He had become lazy, and his brain was not used to hard work. He said

-this to himself but he could not shake off the sense of fear. He took

-a cold shower, rubbing himself briskly, then shot a stimulant into his

-blood stream. Preparing the desk once more, he began to work.

-

-The papers gathered, the pencils broke, and the night gradually turned

-to morning. The finished sketch of the cycle travellers was basically

-correct, but the most important operating mechanism was still missing.

-Try as he could, he was unable to bring it up from his memory.

-

-"By the solar system," he swore, "what is the matter with me? I have

-forgotten every detail."

-

-He tried to think back. At one time he had known the mechanism

-thoroughly. As an engineer he was completely familiar with every single

-plate and tube, but now he couldn't remember anything but the general

-appearance of the finished machine. Fear spurred his mind as he hunted

-for a solution. Something was happening to his mind. He began to think

-of his stories. The same thing had happened there. At one time he

-remembered every detail of life in the 25th century, and could describe

-them easily. Now events were dim and he knew now why his recent stories

-were poor. They were not written from actual memory of the future, but

-were the ordinary stories one might expect from a 20-year-old boy. The

-past was dim and memory faded. Blascomb and Crane, Crane and Blascomb,

-which was the C.D. agent, and what was C.D. anyway?

-

-Enough of the details remained to shock him into an awareness of his

-desperate plight. The rejuvenation process had worked too well, for

-Donovan had waited dangerously long. As the body grew younger the

-tissue cells were consumed and youthful cells replaced them. The

-process that had worked for body cells did the same for the cells of

-the brain. Those portions of the brain containing the knowledge and

-ability of a 70-year-old man were gradually being replaced with new,

-untrained cells. He had failed to re-educate himself as new cells

-replaced the old, and had come to the brink of disaster. Sufficient

-intelligence and manual dexterity remained to compensate for that, but

-in a few years the task would be hopeless.

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-Excitedly, for he knew his life depended on it, he rummaged through his

-book shelves looking for a copy of his first story, "Turn Backward, O

-Time!" It contained, he remembered, a concise, accurate description

-of the mechanism for the time-machine. The magazine itself was old,

-the sheets turning brown and the pages breaking. He read the story in

-haste, vaguely remembering the plot. The actual description of the

-operating mechanism, he found to his consternation, was missing. "I

-will cut one or two paragraphs," the editor had said, "_They are not

-convincing, technically ... they lack verisimilitude!_"

-

-Not convincing! If he did not find them he was doomed to become a

-child, and then a babbling idiot of a baby and would disappear entirely

-within twenty years. He telephoned the magazine's office and asked for

-the editor.

-

-"Sorrree," the secretary said, "Mr. O'Sloane is quite ill. The doctors

-are afraid he might not pass through the night. He's very old, you

-know."

-

-"Can he speak?" Donovan asked desperately.

-

-"He's had a stroke. Can't say a word. Completely paralyzed, Sorrreee."

-

-Donovan cursed the carelessness that had led him to this difficult

-position. He knew that O'Sloane kept the originals of his favorite

-stories in a collection in his office. If O'Sloane died it was

-possible that some enterprising youthful editor would destroy the old

-manuscripts in a fit of house-cleaning.

-

-"This is Donovan," he said quickly, "I am trying to locate the original

-copy of "Turn Backward, O Time" which O'Sloane has in his files. I must

-study the original papers; it's extremely important. If there is a

-substitute editor, will you ask him to keep an eye open for it."

-

-"Cerrrtainleee."

-

-He sighed and took a taxi to the editorial office. It would be best

-to get it as quickly as possible. The original manuscript was quite

-safe. Donovan need only copy the original description. Even if he were

-no longer able to grasp the theory of it, the machine was still easy

-enough to build from the description.

-

-Within a few hours he would be back in the 25th century for a reversal.

-For his next trip back he would choose Ancient Egypt. The 20th century

-was heading for the Atomic Wars and he was fortunate in being able to

-escape. After Egypt he would choose the Inca civilization. Did they not

-have legends of white gods that ruled them? The world was his, and he

-would be forever young. Immortality was within his grasp. No one could

-stop him now.

-

-He arrived at the building and rushed up the steps to the editorial

-office.

-

-"We found the manuscript, Mr. Donovan," the secretary told him

-brightly, looking twice at the flushed, handsome face.

-

-       *       *       *       *       *

-

-Donovan stepped into O'Sloane's office. Practically nothing had been

-touched as yet, for one of the staff editors had just begun to sort a

-pile of stacked papers from several cabinets. Donovan recognized the

-original manuscript of "Turn Backward, O Time!" upon the desk, and

-hurriedly skimmed through the pages. The description was intact, and

-while he could not remember why such a machine would work, he knew that

-it could be built and he could escape.

-

-With a sigh he pocketed the manuscript and introduced himself to the

-young editor who would probably succeed O'Sloane upon his death.

-

-"Oh yes," the editor with the curious thin smile said, "I have heard

-quite a bit about you, and have been waiting a long time for this

-meeting. We've met before, you know."

-

-"Really?" Donovan said. The face did appear familiar, but he could not

-recall the occasion.

-

-"My name is Edel W. Crane, C.D."

-

-Donovan felt a cold tremor of fear shake his body.

-

-He moistened his lips.

-

-"What do the letters C.D. stand for?"

-

-The pasty-faced young man closed and then locked the door of the

-office. Walking towards Donovan, the smile no longer there, he told

-him. Then he did what he had come to do.

-

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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Turn backward, o time!, by Walter
+Kubilius
+
+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
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Turn backward, o time!
+
+Author: Walter Kubilius
+
+Release Date: April 7, 2023 [eBook #70496]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
+             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURN BACKWARD, O TIME! ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                        TURN BACKWARD, O TIME!
+
+                          By Walter Kubilius
+
+                    The one hope for Donovan was to
+                    escape into the past, become a
+                  citizen of the early 20th Century.
+                  But he overlooked the aftermath....
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+                  Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951.
+         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+"Adel W. Crane, C.D." Donovan held the Identi-plast in his hands, the
+fingers trembling slightly. "What do the letters 'C.D.' stand for?"
+he asked, determined to play the part of an honest citizen who had no
+interest in unlicensed rejuvenation or time travel.
+
+The chalk-faced young man with the fixed smile told him: "Cyclic
+Detection. You may have heard our more dramatic nickname, Criminal
+Destroyers; I've been an agent since 2452."
+
+High-strung Donovan moistened his lips. Of course he had heard of the
+C.D. In an age when cyclic travel backward through the centuries was
+an established science, the Komitet that governed the Home Planet
+had to employ ruthless measures to cope with any experimenters whose
+uncontrolled work might threaten to change past temporal cycles. The
+C.D. were the scavengers of the World Komitet; they scoured the past
+centuries eliminating illegal and unlicensed cyclic travellers. In a
+rigidly-controlled solar system there were thousands of law-breakers,
+political disappointees, and even youth-seekers like Donovan, who hoped
+for life-extensions in past ages. The C.D., with terror and all the
+resources of the solar system, hunted them down and exterminated them.
+Quietly, ruthlessly, and painfully.
+
+"The criminal Blascomb," Crane said, the fixed smile still on the thin
+lips, "has been observed near the Donovan metallurgical plants. The
+Komitet suspects that someone close to your office may have established
+contact with him for illegal rejuvenation."
+
+His eyes left Donovan's taut face and scanned the office walls. Control
+boards recording operations in extra-terrestial metallin plants lined
+two sides of the office. The only break in the sternness of the walls
+was an antique painting, a still-life abstraction that must have dated
+way back to the 20th century. Crane stared at its flashes of color, the
+fixed smile turning to amused contempt.
+
+Donovan dared not ask for additional details. The word or whim of the
+Komitet was law. Criminal Destroyer! Donovan shuddered; he had spent
+the past six months in quietly transferring ownership of the Trust to
+various fronts for Blascomb. A fortune worth several erg-units squared
+to the 6th power had already changed hands. Had the C.D. caught him
+before Blascomb could deliver on the rejuvenation and time-escape deal?
+
+"We have nothing to hide," Donovan said, "my staff will cooperate with
+the C.D. I assume you want access to the psycho-record files?"
+
+Edel W. Crane, contemptuous eyes turning away from the still-life,
+reached a bony hand for the approval slip.
+
+"I will let you know what I find."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Donovan stood up, and when the C.D. agent left he frantically sent out
+a conscious call to Blascomb's thought-frequency number.
+
+"By the Komitet!" Blascomb's wave-induced voice rang in Donovan's
+ears, "I told you never to call me unless it was most urgent."
+
+"This is urgent," Donovan thought desperately, "Crane, a C.D. agent,
+was here a minute ago. He's going to look over the books of the Trust."
+
+"He won't find a thing," Blascomb's thoughts were confident in
+Donovan's mind, "They haven't caught a single one of the men I've sent
+back into the 17th century; just be patient and we'll cyclic you out
+within a week."
+
+"Then hurry. My heart's in bad shape and I can't last much longer. I'm
+practically being kept alive by that rotten Callistan serum."
+
+"Stay alive for one more week," Blascomb thought encouragingly, "and
+you'll be young for centuries."
+
+_Turn backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight!_ The song sped
+through Donovan's mind, lifting his spirits. To be young again, and to
+be free from the constant supervision and threat of the terrifying C.D.!
+
+"As for Crane," Blascomb went on, "It's part of the service I'm giving
+you. We've arranged a false-lead case in your office. Crane has his
+talons set for your brother-in-law. Shortly before the C.D. annihilates
+him your escape will be arranged to throw suspicion upon him. We will
+make it seem that your brother-in-law killed you for denouncing him
+to the C.D. Crane will never see through the subterfuge; you'll be
+safe--perhaps forever."
+
+His brother-in-law's life was a cheap price to pay for youth. Donovan
+stared at his stiff, corpse-like hands. All he needed was one more
+week. He would make one more effort to secure a Life-Extension--and
+then....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Examiner for the Board of Life waited while Donovan dressed. The
+answer could already be seen in the official's eyes.
+
+"No?"
+
+"I'm sorry," the Examiner said, "but the laws of the Komitet are
+fairly stringent. Only those whose social value is above Par 195 may
+be rejuvenated. Not much value is placed upon engineers and Trust
+managers who can easily be replaced from each year's Birth Quota. The
+application is denied, and there's no use appealing it."
+
+"It's unjust!" Donovan exclaimed, ignoring the alarming pain in
+his failing heart. "All I want is ten more years--not even a full
+return to youth! If there's no room on Home Planet, let me go the
+extra-terrestials or even some asteroid. I'll make any contribution
+required to...."
+
+The Examiner, who had often heard such vain pleas, rapped his desk
+with the blood-analyscope. "The Komitet is far too wise to permit
+socially unnecessary extensions of the life span, just as it does not
+permit unlicensed time travel. What would happen if we allowed you
+to be rejuvenated, and then permitted extra-terrestial emigration?
+There would be millions of old or sick people like you demanding
+equal treatment and equal consideration. Before long the planets
+and asteroids would be overpopulated and independent colonies set
+up thereon which would eventually come in conflict with the Home
+Planet Komitet. No, my friend, the Komitet is wise in decreeing that
+rejuvenation and human birth are mutually contradictory. Rather than
+sacrifice birth, with the consequent stagnation of the human species,
+the Komitet has decided rigidly to control youth-extensions, and grants
+those periods of additional life only to the socially valuable."
+
+"Yes," Donovan said bitterly, "the Komitet keeps itself immortal while
+the rest of us have to die."
+
+The Examiner's voice was hard. "Shall I denounce you to the C.D.?"
+
+"I beg forgiveness," Donovan said; "your decision is a just one and I
+shall make no appeal."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Blascomb had a very persistent thought-call. Donovan relaxed in the
+office chair and let his consciousness-levels sink to the call-number.
+
+"This is the moment," the thought patterns registered. "The C.D.
+is about to close in with the faked evidence we've prepared. Your
+brother-in-law's about to call. Trust in me; all is ready. Do not
+become frightened, for excessive adrenalin might upset the required
+endocrine balance."
+
+Before he could frame a reply, Blascomb's thought faded away. The
+office door slid open and Edel W. Crane walked in. Donovan's heart
+throbbed painfully: was this an unexpected crisis in their plans, or
+had Blascomb prepared even this?
+
+"The C.D.'s finished its analysis," Crane said, "I thought you might be
+interested."
+
+"Naturally, I--"
+
+"The case was very simple. I wish citizens would realize that they
+cannot fight against the enormous resources of the C.D. We will
+destroy--"
+
+The public-screen flashed urgently. Donovan excused himself and turned
+the knob. His brother-in-law's angry face switched into view.
+
+"Donovan! That was a dirty rotten thing to do. What right did you have
+to denounce me to the C.D.? I should kill you for this!"
+
+Donovan's bewilderment was genuine. He felt Crane's eyes upon him, and
+a thrill of admiration for Blascomb's genius suddenly swept through him.
+
+"What do you want?" he managed to say.
+
+"I've got to see you immediately. I'm downstairs, in back of the
+pilo-cab station."
+
+"Later--"
+
+"Now!"
+
+The image snapped off. Donovan turned to the C.D. agent. "'Scuse me for
+a moment," he stammered, "some family trouble. I'll be back in a short
+while."
+
+Crane glanced up. "I'll wait."
+
+Donovan walked through his office, conscious that he was doing this
+for the last time. Rejuvenation was like death. You put an end to a
+lifetime casually and without haste.
+
+At the pilo-cab station, the wind cutting down from the whirr of
+swooping cabs, Donovan met Blascomb. There were two bright flashes, and
+then the smell of disintegrated flesh. Blascomb gestured toward two
+graying pools on the plasticized floor in back of them.
+
+"Murder and suicide," he said, obviously pleased with himself, "The
+C.D. will think you are dead. The murderer's body is also there to
+provide a motive for the transfer of the Trust's funds in the event
+Crane becomes too thorough. He'll be here soon; we work fast now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The special pilo-cab dropped them into a gravity-shielded warehouse
+above the European Desert. It housed Blascomb's laboratory. The
+rejuvenation process was even simpler than Donovan had expected.
+
+"Not the Fountain of Youth, exactly," Blascomb explained as he plunged
+in the needle, "but a selective antibody that attacks only aging tissue
+and forces replacements practically on an embryonic level of activity.
+Unlike the Callistan serum, which is merely a stimulant, this antibody
+creates from its destroyed tissue a catalyst capable of stimulating
+chromosomes and genes. By the very process of feeding upon itself, the
+body grows younger. The net result is a reversal of the life process,
+an anabolism making you grow younger, year by year."
+
+"Eventually to disappear as a single cell?"
+
+"Ultimately, yes. Long before that period, probably when you're a
+young man, you'll have to return to 2482 for a reversion to normal
+metabolism."
+
+"The process can be repeated?"
+
+"Indefinitely."
+
+Donovan breathed deeply. "Immortality!"
+
+Blascomb did not smile. "Only if the C.D. does not find you. Unlicensed
+rejuvenation is punishable by execution in an extremely painful manner.
+You're a doomed man now if the C.D. even finds you. The worst tortures
+of the Middle Ages would be nothing compared to what Crane would do to
+you or me if he tracks us down."
+
+"You can stay in the present time-cycle," Donovan said, "but I'm tired
+of control and supervision. Send me to some period where an individual
+had a chance to work and live without state control. Give me the times
+of individualism!"
+
+"C.D. agents are everywhere in the time-cycles, tracking down illegal
+immigrants. Quite a number of the men I've rejuvenated chose the
+Renaissance for escape, but I'm afraid that a good part of that cycle's
+carnage was the work of such C.D. agents as our friend Crane. I'd
+recommend another period."
+
+"The Golden Age of Greece?"
+
+Blascomb shook his head. "Already taken. Aristotle, Plato, and a few
+others are 25th century men. Archimedes was murdered by a C.D. agent,
+and Socrates sent to his death by a group of them."
+
+"Their fates were known to history--why did those men leave the 25th
+century to live in that cycle?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. "They probably felt that the few years of
+extra life were worth it. Well, into what period do you want to go and
+what would you do there?"
+
+"I do not understand the paradoxes," Donovan said, "What if I chose to
+build gravity-deflectors in Ancient Rome?"
+
+"It would be impossible because there were no such manufacturers then.
+It would mean that you were either promptly killed by a C.D. agent who
+recognized the anachronistic attempt, or you had changed your mind."
+
+"But if I can choose any period, it means that I can alter history at
+will--which presumes that the present can also be changed."
+
+"That is what the Komitet believes, and that is why the C.D. is so
+ruthless and brutal with unlicensed time travellers. The real answer
+is that in the final analysis your decision to choose a certain
+time period is already made, and the things you will do are already
+determined. Free will is an illusion; it is synonymous with incomplete
+perception."
+
+"Then send me into the 20th century. As an engineer I would be able to
+make some sort of living there."
+
+"Dangerous. Don't practice your profession. Study some field which is
+completely alien to you so that should you come across a C.D. agent he
+would not recognize the work of a 25th century man."
+
+"You mean like an artist or a writer?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Donovan laughed. "I've never held a paint brush or written more than a
+one-page letter, but why not? Unloose the cyclic band, Blascomb; set me
+loose in the 20th century, and give my regards to the C.D.!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the dimly lighted garret above the tavern, Donovan stood before his
+easel. His face was no longer lined, for the past twenty-five years
+had made him a much younger man. He had taken Blascomb's advice and
+had studied a field completely alien to him. In his own time, the 25th
+century, his paintings would have been considered laughably amateurish,
+but for 1926 they were infinitely superior to anything produced by 20th
+century artists.
+
+"Why can't they _see_?" he asked his agent angrily, when his third show
+passed without the sale of a single painting.
+
+"I can see them," the agent said, standing in front of a still-life
+abstraction with flashes of color, "but your way of working is too far
+advanced for our time. Believe me, a few hundred years from now your
+paintings will be regarded as the work of a great genius."
+
+"In the meantime, I starve."
+
+"I can help you."
+
+Donovan threw down the paint brushes. "No. No. There's no use being
+ahead of one's time. I can't make a living as an artist. I may as well
+go back to digging ditches."
+
+"Maybe you can work part-time and paint at night. What did you do
+before you started painting?"
+
+He hesitated, but what was there to be afraid of? "I--I was an
+engineer."
+
+"I can get you a job with a construction company."
+
+"No. No! I want nothing whatever to do with engineering! Nothing!"
+
+In the 25 years that he had lived in the 20th century he had turned
+from a man of 65 to a healthy, robust 40. For a long time he had lived
+in fear that the dreaded arms of the C.D. would reach out for him, and
+that he would stand face to face with terror-inspiring Crane. But he
+had never met anyone who seemed to be a C.D., a Criminal Destroyer.
+Sometimes he felt the avenging sword of the Komitet hanging over his
+head.
+
+There were some statesmen and philosophers mentioned in the newspapers
+whose ideas seemed to indicate a 25th century origin, but he avoided
+them in the fear that they might be plants to draw out the illegals. It
+was probably that the C.D. would never find out the deception, and if
+they did there was little chance of locating him among the two billion
+people on Home Planet.
+
+"You have to make a living somehow," the agent persisted.
+
+"I know nothing but engineering," Donovan said, "and that I will never
+do."
+
+"Maybe there's some other field in which you could use engineering
+skills." He thought for a moment, and then reached into his briefcase.
+"I picked this up on a newsstand. You might like it."
+
+Donovan glanced at the magazine's cover.
+
+"It's the latest thrill--scientific fiction. Maybe with your
+engineering knowledge you could write a story or two."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the agent left, Donovan read through the magazine, then went
+out to look up other stories of the same nature. One story offered a
+time-travel theory which was absurdly inaccurate. Another purported
+to deal with the inhabitants of Mars, none of which looked at all
+the way the writers imagined them to be. Donovan read as many as he
+could find, and was fascinated by the hopeless incompetence and
+scientific inaccuracy of the so-called writers. The time-travel story
+was laughable; even a child could produce a far more exciting tale by
+describing the Watson-Gorshevich experiments that lead to the discovery
+of repetitive time-cycles back in 2364.
+
+_Why not_, he thought to himself. _Why not write these stories of
+the future? Who could do them better than a man who had come from
+the future?_ These were not engineering journals where accuracy was
+required, nor would anyone ever act upon the scientific discoveries he
+might record. Above all, no one would attempt to build any machines
+which would immediately attract the attention of the C.D. He would do
+nothing which would in the slightest way affect historic development.
+
+Pressed by the need for money, and fascinated by the possibilities
+in science fiction, Donovan began to write a story. He employed a
+pen-name, and avoided the general theory of retrograde-cycle travel
+backward above time, but limited himself to travelling spirally into
+the future. He described the mechanism he himself would have to produce
+in order to get back to Blascomb for anabolism-correction, and produced
+a fanciful tale regarding life in the year 3,000. The letter from the
+editor came within a week.
+
+    _Dear Mr. Donovan_:
+
+    _Enclosed find check for your story, "Turn Backward, O Time!" I have
+    seldom read a more convincing fantasy. One could almost believe that
+    the apparatus you described would actually work. I believe this
+    story will be a science-fiction classic and am placing your original
+    manuscript in my collection. I would appreciate seeing other
+    examples of your work._
+
+When the story appeared in print, several paragraphs describing
+the construction of the time-machine were omitted by the editor.
+"Technically unconvincing," they told him; "they mar up the
+verisimilitude of a great story." "Turn Backward, O Time!" became an
+instant success.
+
+A few days later, Donovan contributed another story, this time based
+on actual events on Jupiter which he simply transferred to a different
+time-cycle on Vega. Vaguely recalling some warning of Blascomb's that
+while the future could not be changed, it was best to play safe and
+not draw the attention of the C.D., he twisted and changed all the
+scientific facts involved. The check for the second story was promptly
+sent.
+
+Within a few months Donovan, under his pseudonym, which was kept
+secret, was launched upon his career as a writer of science fiction.
+Readers praised him for his convincing fantasy and editors competed for
+his services.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Memory of the 25th century gradually faded from his mind as years
+passed. At times he awoke in horror after nightmares that Crane of the
+C.D. had finally caught him, but these terrifying dreams became rarer.
+He had exposed himself repeatedly in fiction. Time and time again he
+had described actual historical events of the Space Colony Wars in
+his stories. On one occasion he described the technique for the cure
+of cancer discovered in 2019. The readers' section of the magazine
+soon carried letters from doctors who were amused that a writer could
+present such a simple household remedy and dare suggest that it might
+be efficacious for cancer.
+
+Donovan was amused by the thought that Crane might be diligently
+searching for him somewhere in the Renaissance; if so, the C.D. agent's
+fury must be mounting.
+
+He changed his name and identity every ten years to conceal his gradual
+return to youth. He had the pleasure of seeing himself hailed as his
+successor in popularity, as he established new names and let the older
+ones die out. His excuse to the editors was that he wanted to enter
+into competition anew, make sure that his name alone was not carrying
+the stories. He was happy. Sometimes, however, later stories were
+panned by "fans" as "imitations of the classics by the greatest stf
+writer the world has ever known."
+
+Only the aging gentleman who had bought Donovan's first manuscript
+knew, but the old man signed the checks and said nothing.
+
+In his happiness and self-satisfaction, Donovan became more careless
+with his stories. If he had been able to outwit Crane and the dreaded
+C.D., surely he could dash off stories good enough for the poor minds
+of 20th century science-fiction readers!
+
+Then the tide turned. Fan letters in the magazines began really to tear
+into his fiction; they _were_ third-rate; they lacked imagination.
+They were ordinary stories written by an ordinary mind; and science
+fiction required tales written by men whose minds were well ahead of
+20th century thought. The day finally came when all the editors began
+rejecting his stories. First one, then another--and finally every story
+written received a rejection slip.
+
+Donovan could not understand the reason for the change. A few years
+ago--or was it decades?--each story of his was labelled a "classic";
+now they were not even acceptable. Had science fiction changed so much
+since his decision to become a writer in 1929? He dared not discuss it
+with anyone, for he had no friends and he trusted no one. The C.D. was
+everywhere, but there was one man in whom he had the deepest confidence.
+
+Donovan visited the aging editor and felt sorry for the worn-out old
+man. He himself had once been like this, but was now free from death.
+He thought of taking his benefactor with him into the 25th century
+and saving the editor's life. But suppose Blascomb's laboratory had
+been captured? Donovan could manage for himself, but it would be cruel
+to leave the old man in the deadly hands of the C.D. No, it was best
+to say nothing about rejuvenation to the editor; he would only think
+Donovan was trying out a story-idea.
+
+"I've been your editor for thirty years," the old man's voice cracked.
+His half-blind eyes loomed through thick lenses.
+
+"It's been a long time," Donovan said.
+
+"My--My eyes are not what they used to be," the other said, "A man
+about 50 years old wrote that great classic, "Turn Backward, O Time!"
+He must be about 80 now. But you look only 20. Ah, laddie, you're
+trying to fool me. You must be his son!"
+
+"That's right," Donovan said quickly, "We have the same name."
+
+"Then that explains it," the other said wearily; "it would break my old
+heart if a talent like your father's disintegrated. But we came to talk
+about your stories. No, son, you're not the writer your father was.
+Your tales lack imagination; there is no originality in them. The ideas
+are hackneyed, the writing third-rate. They sound like poor imitations
+of the great tales told by your father. There was a man! There was a
+writer!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Donovan left him, keeping the secret of his identity. When he returned
+to his home he looked in the mirror, and the face of a rose-cheeked
+20-year-old youngster stared back at him. Fifty years of happy living
+in the 20th century! It would soon be necessary to return to the 25th
+century so that Blascomb could reverse the antibiotic catalytic process
+that had set him growing younger. It was impossible to stay in his
+present youthful state much longer. In a few years he would be a child.
+
+With a sigh he walked to his desk, took out paper and pen, and began to
+draw the diagrams for the apparatus which would send him forward into
+the 25th century.
+
+For three hours he worked confidently, and then the sweat began to drip
+from his forehead and his heart began to pound fearfully. "It is not
+possible," he said, uneasily. "It will all come back to me soon. Now
+what the devil did Blascomb tell me?"
+
+He had become lazy, and his brain was not used to hard work. He said
+this to himself but he could not shake off the sense of fear. He took
+a cold shower, rubbing himself briskly, then shot a stimulant into his
+blood stream. Preparing the desk once more, he began to work.
+
+The papers gathered, the pencils broke, and the night gradually turned
+to morning. The finished sketch of the cycle travellers was basically
+correct, but the most important operating mechanism was still missing.
+Try as he could, he was unable to bring it up from his memory.
+
+"By the solar system," he swore, "what is the matter with me? I have
+forgotten every detail."
+
+He tried to think back. At one time he had known the mechanism
+thoroughly. As an engineer he was completely familiar with every single
+plate and tube, but now he couldn't remember anything but the general
+appearance of the finished machine. Fear spurred his mind as he hunted
+for a solution. Something was happening to his mind. He began to think
+of his stories. The same thing had happened there. At one time he
+remembered every detail of life in the 25th century, and could describe
+them easily. Now events were dim and he knew now why his recent stories
+were poor. They were not written from actual memory of the future, but
+were the ordinary stories one might expect from a 20-year-old boy. The
+past was dim and memory faded. Blascomb and Crane, Crane and Blascomb,
+which was the C.D. agent, and what was C.D. anyway?
+
+Enough of the details remained to shock him into an awareness of his
+desperate plight. The rejuvenation process had worked too well, for
+Donovan had waited dangerously long. As the body grew younger the
+tissue cells were consumed and youthful cells replaced them. The
+process that had worked for body cells did the same for the cells of
+the brain. Those portions of the brain containing the knowledge and
+ability of a 70-year-old man were gradually being replaced with new,
+untrained cells. He had failed to re-educate himself as new cells
+replaced the old, and had come to the brink of disaster. Sufficient
+intelligence and manual dexterity remained to compensate for that, but
+in a few years the task would be hopeless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Excitedly, for he knew his life depended on it, he rummaged through his
+book shelves looking for a copy of his first story, "Turn Backward, O
+Time!" It contained, he remembered, a concise, accurate description
+of the mechanism for the time-machine. The magazine itself was old,
+the sheets turning brown and the pages breaking. He read the story in
+haste, vaguely remembering the plot. The actual description of the
+operating mechanism, he found to his consternation, was missing. "I
+will cut one or two paragraphs," the editor had said, "_They are not
+convincing, technically ... they lack verisimilitude!_"
+
+Not convincing! If he did not find them he was doomed to become a
+child, and then a babbling idiot of a baby and would disappear entirely
+within twenty years. He telephoned the magazine's office and asked for
+the editor.
+
+"Sorrree," the secretary said, "Mr. O'Sloane is quite ill. The doctors
+are afraid he might not pass through the night. He's very old, you
+know."
+
+"Can he speak?" Donovan asked desperately.
+
+"He's had a stroke. Can't say a word. Completely paralyzed, Sorrreee."
+
+Donovan cursed the carelessness that had led him to this difficult
+position. He knew that O'Sloane kept the originals of his favorite
+stories in a collection in his office. If O'Sloane died it was
+possible that some enterprising youthful editor would destroy the old
+manuscripts in a fit of house-cleaning.
+
+"This is Donovan," he said quickly, "I am trying to locate the original
+copy of "Turn Backward, O Time" which O'Sloane has in his files. I must
+study the original papers; it's extremely important. If there is a
+substitute editor, will you ask him to keep an eye open for it."
+
+"Cerrrtainleee."
+
+He sighed and took a taxi to the editorial office. It would be best
+to get it as quickly as possible. The original manuscript was quite
+safe. Donovan need only copy the original description. Even if he were
+no longer able to grasp the theory of it, the machine was still easy
+enough to build from the description.
+
+Within a few hours he would be back in the 25th century for a reversal.
+For his next trip back he would choose Ancient Egypt. The 20th century
+was heading for the Atomic Wars and he was fortunate in being able to
+escape. After Egypt he would choose the Inca civilization. Did they not
+have legends of white gods that ruled them? The world was his, and he
+would be forever young. Immortality was within his grasp. No one could
+stop him now.
+
+He arrived at the building and rushed up the steps to the editorial
+office.
+
+"We found the manuscript, Mr. Donovan," the secretary told him
+brightly, looking twice at the flushed, handsome face.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Donovan stepped into O'Sloane's office. Practically nothing had been
+touched as yet, for one of the staff editors had just begun to sort a
+pile of stacked papers from several cabinets. Donovan recognized the
+original manuscript of "Turn Backward, O Time!" upon the desk, and
+hurriedly skimmed through the pages. The description was intact, and
+while he could not remember why such a machine would work, he knew that
+it could be built and he could escape.
+
+With a sigh he pocketed the manuscript and introduced himself to the
+young editor who would probably succeed O'Sloane upon his death.
+
+"Oh yes," the editor with the curious thin smile said, "I have heard
+quite a bit about you, and have been waiting a long time for this
+meeting. We've met before, you know."
+
+"Really?" Donovan said. The face did appear familiar, but he could not
+recall the occasion.
+
+"My name is Edel W. Crane, C.D."
+
+Donovan felt a cold tremor of fear shake his body.
+
+He moistened his lips.
+
+"What do the letters C.D. stand for?"
+
+The pasty-faced young man closed and then locked the door of the
+office. Walking towards Donovan, the smile no longer there, he told
+him. Then he did what he had come to do.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURN BACKWARD, O TIME! ***
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diff --git a/70496-h/70496-h.htm b/70496-h/70496-h.htm
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-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Turn backward, o time!</p>

-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Walter Kubilius</p>

-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 7, 2023 [eBook #70496]</p>

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-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURN BACKWARD, O TIME! ***</div>

-

-<div class="titlepage">

-

-<h1>TURN BACKWARD, O TIME!</h1>

-

-<h2>By Walter Kubilius</h2>

-

-<p>The one hope for Donovan was to<br>

-escape into the past, become a<br>

-citizen of the early 20th Century.<br>

-But he overlooked the aftermath....</p>

-

-<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br>

-Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951.<br>

-Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br>

-the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="chap">

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-  <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt="">

-</div>

-

-<hr class="chap">

-

-<p>"Adel W. Crane, C.D." Donovan held the Identi-plast in his hands, the

-fingers trembling slightly. "What do the letters 'C.D.' stand for?"

-he asked, determined to play the part of an honest citizen who had no

-interest in unlicensed rejuvenation or time travel.</p>

-

-<p>The chalk-faced young man with the fixed smile told him: "Cyclic

-Detection. You may have heard our more dramatic nickname, Criminal

-Destroyers; I've been an agent since 2452."</p>

-

-<p>High-strung Donovan moistened his lips. Of course he had heard of the

-C.D. In an age when cyclic travel backward through the centuries was

-an established science, the Komitet that governed the Home Planet

-had to employ ruthless measures to cope with any experimenters whose

-uncontrolled work might threaten to change past temporal cycles. The

-C.D. were the scavengers of the World Komitet; they scoured the past

-centuries eliminating illegal and unlicensed cyclic travellers. In a

-rigidly-controlled solar system there were thousands of law-breakers,

-political disappointees, and even youth-seekers like Donovan, who hoped

-for life-extensions in past ages. The C.D., with terror and all the

-resources of the solar system, hunted them down and exterminated them.

-Quietly, ruthlessly, and painfully.</p>

-

-<p>"The criminal Blascomb," Crane said, the fixed smile still on the thin

-lips, "has been observed near the Donovan metallurgical plants. The

-Komitet suspects that someone close to your office may have established

-contact with him for illegal rejuvenation."</p>

-

-<p>His eyes left Donovan's taut face and scanned the office walls. Control

-boards recording operations in extra-terrestial metallin plants lined

-two sides of the office. The only break in the sternness of the walls

-was an antique painting, a still-life abstraction that must have dated

-way back to the 20th century. Crane stared at its flashes of color, the

-fixed smile turning to amused contempt.</p>

-

-<p>Donovan dared not ask for additional details. The word or whim of the

-Komitet was law. Criminal Destroyer! Donovan shuddered; he had spent

-the past six months in quietly transferring ownership of the Trust to

-various fronts for Blascomb. A fortune worth several erg-units squared

-to the 6th power had already changed hands. Had the C.D. caught him

-before Blascomb could deliver on the rejuvenation and time-escape deal?</p>

-

-<p>"We have nothing to hide," Donovan said, "my staff will cooperate with

-the C.D. I assume you want access to the psycho-record files?"</p>

-

-<p>Edel W. Crane, contemptuous eyes turning away from the still-life,

-reached a bony hand for the approval slip.</p>

-

-<p>"I will let you know what I find."</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>Donovan stood up, and when the C.D. agent left he frantically sent out

-a conscious call to Blascomb's thought-frequency number.</p>

-

-<p>"By the Komitet!" Blascomb's wave-induced voice rang in Donovan's

-ears, "I told you never to call me unless it was most urgent."</p>

-

-<p>"This is urgent," Donovan thought desperately, "Crane, a C.D. agent,

-was here a minute ago. He's going to look over the books of the Trust."</p>

-

-<p>"He won't find a thing," Blascomb's thoughts were confident in

-Donovan's mind, "They haven't caught a single one of the men I've sent

-back into the 17th century; just be patient and we'll cyclic you out

-within a week."</p>

-

-<p>"Then hurry. My heart's in bad shape and I can't last much longer. I'm

-practically being kept alive by that rotten Callistan serum."</p>

-

-<p>"Stay alive for one more week," Blascomb thought encouragingly, "and

-you'll be young for centuries."</p>

-

-<p><i>Turn backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight!</i> The song sped

-through Donovan's mind, lifting his spirits. To be young again, and to

-be free from the constant supervision and threat of the terrifying C.D.!</p>

-

-<p>"As for Crane," Blascomb went on, "It's part of the service I'm giving

-you. We've arranged a false-lead case in your office. Crane has his

-talons set for your brother-in-law. Shortly before the C.D. annihilates

-him your escape will be arranged to throw suspicion upon him. We will

-make it seem that your brother-in-law killed you for denouncing him

-to the C.D. Crane will never see through the subterfuge; you'll be

-safe—perhaps forever."</p>

-

-<p>His brother-in-law's life was a cheap price to pay for youth. Donovan

-stared at his stiff, corpse-like hands. All he needed was one more

-week. He would make one more effort to secure a Life-Extension—and

-then....</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>The Examiner for the Board of Life waited while Donovan dressed. The

-answer could already be seen in the official's eyes.</p>

-

-<p>"No?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm sorry," the Examiner said, "but the laws of the Komitet are

-fairly stringent. Only those whose social value is above Par 195 may

-be rejuvenated. Not much value is placed upon engineers and Trust

-managers who can easily be replaced from each year's Birth Quota. The

-application is denied, and there's no use appealing it."</p>

-

-<p>"It's unjust!" Donovan exclaimed, ignoring the alarming pain in

-his failing heart. "All I want is ten more years—not even a full

-return to youth! If there's no room on Home Planet, let me go the

-extra-terrestials or even some asteroid. I'll make any contribution

-required to...."</p>

-

-<p>The Examiner, who had often heard such vain pleas, rapped his desk

-with the blood-analyscope. "The Komitet is far too wise to permit

-socially unnecessary extensions of the life span, just as it does not

-permit unlicensed time travel. What would happen if we allowed you

-to be rejuvenated, and then permitted extra-terrestial emigration?

-There would be millions of old or sick people like you demanding

-equal treatment and equal consideration. Before long the planets

-and asteroids would be overpopulated and independent colonies set

-up thereon which would eventually come in conflict with the Home

-Planet Komitet. No, my friend, the Komitet is wise in decreeing that

-rejuvenation and human birth are mutually contradictory. Rather than

-sacrifice birth, with the consequent stagnation of the human species,

-the Komitet has decided rigidly to control youth-extensions, and grants

-those periods of additional life only to the socially valuable."</p>

-

-<p>"Yes," Donovan said bitterly, "the Komitet keeps itself immortal while

-the rest of us have to die."</p>

-

-<p>The Examiner's voice was hard. "Shall I denounce you to the C.D.?"</p>

-

-<p>"I beg forgiveness," Donovan said; "your decision is a just one and I

-shall make no appeal."</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>Blascomb had a very persistent thought-call. Donovan relaxed in the

-office chair and let his consciousness-levels sink to the call-number.</p>

-

-<p>"This is the moment," the thought patterns registered. "The C.D.

-is about to close in with the faked evidence we've prepared. Your

-brother-in-law's about to call. Trust in me; all is ready. Do not

-become frightened, for excessive adrenalin might upset the required

-endocrine balance."</p>

-

-<p>Before he could frame a reply, Blascomb's thought faded away. The

-office door slid open and Edel W. Crane walked in. Donovan's heart

-throbbed painfully: was this an unexpected crisis in their plans, or

-had Blascomb prepared even this?</p>

-

-<p>"The C.D.'s finished its analysis," Crane said, "I thought you might be

-interested."</p>

-

-<p>"Naturally, I—"</p>

-

-<p>"The case was very simple. I wish citizens would realize that they

-cannot fight against the enormous resources of the C.D. We will

-destroy—"</p>

-

-<p>The public-screen flashed urgently. Donovan excused himself and turned

-the knob. His brother-in-law's angry face switched into view.</p>

-

-<p>"Donovan! That was a dirty rotten thing to do. What right did you have

-to denounce me to the C.D.? I should kill you for this!"</p>

-

-<p>Donovan's bewilderment was genuine. He felt Crane's eyes upon him, and

-a thrill of admiration for Blascomb's genius suddenly swept through him.</p>

-

-<p>"What do you want?" he managed to say.</p>

-

-<p>"I've got to see you immediately. I'm downstairs, in back of the

-pilo-cab station."</p>

-

-<p>"Later—"</p>

-

-<p>"Now!"</p>

-

-<p>The image snapped off. Donovan turned to the C.D. agent. "'Scuse me for

-a moment," he stammered, "some family trouble. I'll be back in a short

-while."</p>

-

-<p>Crane glanced up. "I'll wait."</p>

-

-<p>Donovan walked through his office, conscious that he was doing this

-for the last time. Rejuvenation was like death. You put an end to a

-lifetime casually and without haste.</p>

-

-<p>At the pilo-cab station, the wind cutting down from the whirr of

-swooping cabs, Donovan met Blascomb. There were two bright flashes, and

-then the smell of disintegrated flesh. Blascomb gestured toward two

-graying pools on the plasticized floor in back of them.</p>

-

-<p>"Murder and suicide," he said, obviously pleased with himself, "The

-C.D. will think you are dead. The murderer's body is also there to

-provide a motive for the transfer of the Trust's funds in the event

-Crane becomes too thorough. He'll be here soon; we work fast now."</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>The special pilo-cab dropped them into a gravity-shielded warehouse

-above the European Desert. It housed Blascomb's laboratory. The

-rejuvenation process was even simpler than Donovan had expected.</p>

-

-<p>"Not the Fountain of Youth, exactly," Blascomb explained as he plunged

-in the needle, "but a selective antibody that attacks only aging tissue

-and forces replacements practically on an embryonic level of activity.

-Unlike the Callistan serum, which is merely a stimulant, this antibody

-creates from its destroyed tissue a catalyst capable of stimulating

-chromosomes and genes. By the very process of feeding upon itself, the

-body grows younger. The net result is a reversal of the life process,

-an anabolism making you grow younger, year by year."</p>

-

-<p>"Eventually to disappear as a single cell?"</p>

-

-<p>"Ultimately, yes. Long before that period, probably when you're a

-young man, you'll have to return to 2482 for a reversion to normal

-metabolism."</p>

-

-<p>"The process can be repeated?"</p>

-

-<p>"Indefinitely."</p>

-

-<p>Donovan breathed deeply. "Immortality!"</p>

-

-<p>Blascomb did not smile. "Only if the C.D. does not find you. Unlicensed

-rejuvenation is punishable by execution in an extremely painful manner.

-You're a doomed man now if the C.D. even finds you. The worst tortures

-of the Middle Ages would be nothing compared to what Crane would do to

-you or me if he tracks us down."</p>

-

-<p>"You can stay in the present time-cycle," Donovan said, "but I'm tired

-of control and supervision. Send me to some period where an individual

-had a chance to work and live without state control. Give me the times

-of individualism!"</p>

-

-<p>"C.D. agents are everywhere in the time-cycles, tracking down illegal

-immigrants. Quite a number of the men I've rejuvenated chose the

-Renaissance for escape, but I'm afraid that a good part of that cycle's

-carnage was the work of such C.D. agents as our friend Crane. I'd

-recommend another period."</p>

-

-<p>"The Golden Age of Greece?"</p>

-

-<p>Blascomb shook his head. "Already taken. Aristotle, Plato, and a few

-others are 25th century men. Archimedes was murdered by a C.D. agent,

-and Socrates sent to his death by a group of them."</p>

-

-<p>"Their fates were known to history—why did those men leave the 25th

-century to live in that cycle?"</p>

-

-<p>He shrugged his shoulders. "They probably felt that the few years of

-extra life were worth it. Well, into what period do you want to go and

-what would you do there?"</p>

-

-<p>"I do not understand the paradoxes," Donovan said, "What if I chose to

-build gravity-deflectors in Ancient Rome?"</p>

-

-<p>"It would be impossible because there were no such manufacturers then.

-It would mean that you were either promptly killed by a C.D. agent who

-recognized the anachronistic attempt, or you had changed your mind."</p>

-

-<p>"But if I can choose any period, it means that I can alter history at

-will—which presumes that the present can also be changed."</p>

-

-<p>"That is what the Komitet believes, and that is why the C.D. is so

-ruthless and brutal with unlicensed time travellers. The real answer

-is that in the final analysis your decision to choose a certain

-time period is already made, and the things you will do are already

-determined. Free will is an illusion; it is synonymous with incomplete

-perception."</p>

-

-<p>"Then send me into the 20th century. As an engineer I would be able to

-make some sort of living there."</p>

-

-<p>"Dangerous. Don't practice your profession. Study some field which is

-completely alien to you so that should you come across a C.D. agent he

-would not recognize the work of a 25th century man."</p>

-

-<p>"You mean like an artist or a writer?"</p>

-

-<p>"Why not?"</p>

-

-<p>Donovan laughed. "I've never held a paint brush or written more than a

-one-page letter, but why not? Unloose the cyclic band, Blascomb; set me

-loose in the 20th century, and give my regards to the C.D.!"</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>In the dimly lighted garret above the tavern, Donovan stood before his

-easel. His face was no longer lined, for the past twenty-five years

-had made him a much younger man. He had taken Blascomb's advice and

-had studied a field completely alien to him. In his own time, the 25th

-century, his paintings would have been considered laughably amateurish,

-but for 1926 they were infinitely superior to anything produced by 20th

-century artists.</p>

-

-<p>"Why can't they <i>see</i>?" he asked his agent angrily, when his third show

-passed without the sale of a single painting.</p>

-

-<p>"I can see them," the agent said, standing in front of a still-life

-abstraction with flashes of color, "but your way of working is too far

-advanced for our time. Believe me, a few hundred years from now your

-paintings will be regarded as the work of a great genius."</p>

-

-<p>"In the meantime, I starve."</p>

-

-<p>"I can help you."</p>

-

-<p>Donovan threw down the paint brushes. "No. No. There's no use being

-ahead of one's time. I can't make a living as an artist. I may as well

-go back to digging ditches."</p>

-

-<p>"Maybe you can work part-time and paint at night. What did you do

-before you started painting?"</p>

-

-<p>He hesitated, but what was there to be afraid of? "I—I was an

-engineer."</p>

-

-<p>"I can get you a job with a construction company."</p>

-

-<p>"No. No! I want nothing whatever to do with engineering! Nothing!"</p>

-

-<p>In the 25 years that he had lived in the 20th century he had turned

-from a man of 65 to a healthy, robust 40. For a long time he had lived

-in fear that the dreaded arms of the C.D. would reach out for him, and

-that he would stand face to face with terror-inspiring Crane. But he

-had never met anyone who seemed to be a C.D., a Criminal Destroyer.

-Sometimes he felt the avenging sword of the Komitet hanging over his

-head.</p>

-

-<p>There were some statesmen and philosophers mentioned in the newspapers

-whose ideas seemed to indicate a 25th century origin, but he avoided

-them in the fear that they might be plants to draw out the illegals. It

-was probably that the C.D. would never find out the deception, and if

-they did there was little chance of locating him among the two billion

-people on Home Planet.</p>

-

-<p>"You have to make a living somehow," the agent persisted.</p>

-

-<p>"I know nothing but engineering," Donovan said, "and that I will never

-do."</p>

-

-<p>"Maybe there's some other field in which you could use engineering

-skills." He thought for a moment, and then reached into his briefcase.

-"I picked this up on a newsstand. You might like it."</p>

-

-<p>Donovan glanced at the magazine's cover.</p>

-

-<p>"It's the latest thrill—scientific fiction. Maybe with your

-engineering knowledge you could write a story or two."</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>When the agent left, Donovan read through the magazine, then went

-out to look up other stories of the same nature. One story offered a

-time-travel theory which was absurdly inaccurate. Another purported

-to deal with the inhabitants of Mars, none of which looked at all

-the way the writers imagined them to be. Donovan read as many as he

-could find, and was fascinated by the hopeless incompetence and

-scientific inaccuracy of the so-called writers. The time-travel story

-was laughable; even a child could produce a far more exciting tale by

-describing the Watson-Gorshevich experiments that lead to the discovery

-of repetitive time-cycles back in 2364.</p>

-

-<p><i>Why not</i>, he thought to himself. <i>Why not write these stories of

-the future? Who could do them better than a man who had come from

-the future?</i> These were not engineering journals where accuracy was

-required, nor would anyone ever act upon the scientific discoveries he

-might record. Above all, no one would attempt to build any machines

-which would immediately attract the attention of the C.D. He would do

-nothing which would in the slightest way affect historic development.</p>

-

-<p>Pressed by the need for money, and fascinated by the possibilities

-in science fiction, Donovan began to write a story. He employed a

-pen-name, and avoided the general theory of retrograde-cycle travel

-backward above time, but limited himself to travelling spirally into

-the future. He described the mechanism he himself would have to produce

-in order to get back to Blascomb for anabolism-correction, and produced

-a fanciful tale regarding life in the year 3,000. The letter from the

-editor came within a week.</p>

-

-<div class="blockquot">

-

-<p><i>Dear Mr. Donovan</i>:</p>

-

-<p><i>Enclosed find check for your story, "Turn Backward, O Time!" I have

-seldom read a more convincing fantasy. One could almost believe that

-the apparatus you described would actually work. I believe this

-story will be a science-fiction classic and am placing your original

-manuscript in my collection. I would appreciate seeing other examples

-of your work.</i></p>

-</div>

-

-<p>When the story appeared in print, several paragraphs describing

-the construction of the time-machine were omitted by the editor.

-"Technically unconvincing," they told him; "they mar up the

-verisimilitude of a great story." "Turn Backward, O Time!" became an

-instant success.</p>

-

-<p>A few days later, Donovan contributed another story, this time based

-on actual events on Jupiter which he simply transferred to a different

-time-cycle on Vega. Vaguely recalling some warning of Blascomb's that

-while the future could not be changed, it was best to play safe and

-not draw the attention of the C.D., he twisted and changed all the

-scientific facts involved. The check for the second story was promptly

-sent.</p>

-

-<p>Within a few months Donovan, under his pseudonym, which was kept

-secret, was launched upon his career as a writer of science fiction.

-Readers praised him for his convincing fantasy and editors competed for

-his services.</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>Memory of the 25th century gradually faded from his mind as years

-passed. At times he awoke in horror after nightmares that Crane of the

-C.D. had finally caught him, but these terrifying dreams became rarer.

-He had exposed himself repeatedly in fiction. Time and time again he

-had described actual historical events of the Space Colony Wars in

-his stories. On one occasion he described the technique for the cure

-of cancer discovered in 2019. The readers' section of the magazine

-soon carried letters from doctors who were amused that a writer could

-present such a simple household remedy and dare suggest that it might

-be efficacious for cancer.</p>

-

-<p>Donovan was amused by the thought that Crane might be diligently

-searching for him somewhere in the Renaissance; if so, the C.D. agent's

-fury must be mounting.</p>

-

-<p>He changed his name and identity every ten years to conceal his gradual

-return to youth. He had the pleasure of seeing himself hailed as his

-successor in popularity, as he established new names and let the older

-ones die out. His excuse to the editors was that he wanted to enter

-into competition anew, make sure that his name alone was not carrying

-the stories. He was happy. Sometimes, however, later stories were

-panned by "fans" as "imitations of the classics by the greatest stf

-writer the world has ever known."</p>

-

-<p>Only the aging gentleman who had bought Donovan's first manuscript

-knew, but the old man signed the checks and said nothing.</p>

-

-<p>In his happiness and self-satisfaction, Donovan became more careless

-with his stories. If he had been able to outwit Crane and the dreaded

-C.D., surely he could dash off stories good enough for the poor minds

-of 20th century science-fiction readers!</p>

-

-<p>Then the tide turned. Fan letters in the magazines began really to tear

-into his fiction; they <i>were</i> third-rate; they lacked imagination.

-They were ordinary stories written by an ordinary mind; and science

-fiction required tales written by men whose minds were well ahead of

-20th century thought. The day finally came when all the editors began

-rejecting his stories. First one, then another—and finally every story

-written received a rejection slip.</p>

-

-<p>Donovan could not understand the reason for the change. A few years

-ago—or was it decades?—each story of his was labelled a "classic";

-now they were not even acceptable. Had science fiction changed so much

-since his decision to become a writer in 1929? He dared not discuss it

-with anyone, for he had no friends and he trusted no one. The C.D. was

-everywhere, but there was one man in whom he had the deepest confidence.</p>

-

-<p>Donovan visited the aging editor and felt sorry for the worn-out old

-man. He himself had once been like this, but was now free from death.

-He thought of taking his benefactor with him into the 25th century

-and saving the editor's life. But suppose Blascomb's laboratory had

-been captured? Donovan could manage for himself, but it would be cruel

-to leave the old man in the deadly hands of the C.D. No, it was best

-to say nothing about rejuvenation to the editor; he would only think

-Donovan was trying out a story-idea.</p>

-

-<p>"I've been your editor for thirty years," the old man's voice cracked.

-His half-blind eyes loomed through thick lenses.</p>

-

-<p>"It's been a long time," Donovan said.</p>

-

-<p>"My—My eyes are not what they used to be," the other said, "A man

-about 50 years old wrote that great classic, "Turn Backward, O Time!"

-He must be about 80 now. But you look only 20. Ah, laddie, you're

-trying to fool me. You must be his son!"</p>

-

-<p>"That's right," Donovan said quickly, "We have the same name."</p>

-

-<p>"Then that explains it," the other said wearily; "it would break my old

-heart if a talent like your father's disintegrated. But we came to talk

-about your stories. No, son, you're not the writer your father was.

-Your tales lack imagination; there is no originality in them. The ideas

-are hackneyed, the writing third-rate. They sound like poor imitations

-of the great tales told by your father. There was a man! There was a

-writer!"</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>Donovan left him, keeping the secret of his identity. When he returned

-to his home he looked in the mirror, and the face of a rose-cheeked

-20-year-old youngster stared back at him. Fifty years of happy living

-in the 20th century! It would soon be necessary to return to the 25th

-century so that Blascomb could reverse the antibiotic catalytic process

-that had set him growing younger. It was impossible to stay in his

-present youthful state much longer. In a few years he would be a child.</p>

-

-<p>With a sigh he walked to his desk, took out paper and pen, and began to

-draw the diagrams for the apparatus which would send him forward into

-the 25th century.</p>

-

-<p>For three hours he worked confidently, and then the sweat began to drip

-from his forehead and his heart began to pound fearfully. "It is not

-possible," he said, uneasily. "It will all come back to me soon. Now

-what the devil did Blascomb tell me?"</p>

-

-<p>He had become lazy, and his brain was not used to hard work. He said

-this to himself but he could not shake off the sense of fear. He took

-a cold shower, rubbing himself briskly, then shot a stimulant into his

-blood stream. Preparing the desk once more, he began to work.</p>

-

-<p>The papers gathered, the pencils broke, and the night gradually turned

-to morning. The finished sketch of the cycle travellers was basically

-correct, but the most important operating mechanism was still missing.

-Try as he could, he was unable to bring it up from his memory.</p>

-

-<p>"By the solar system," he swore, "what is the matter with me? I have

-forgotten every detail."</p>

-

-<p>He tried to think back. At one time he had known the mechanism

-thoroughly. As an engineer he was completely familiar with every single

-plate and tube, but now he couldn't remember anything but the general

-appearance of the finished machine. Fear spurred his mind as he hunted

-for a solution. Something was happening to his mind. He began to think

-of his stories. The same thing had happened there. At one time he

-remembered every detail of life in the 25th century, and could describe

-them easily. Now events were dim and he knew now why his recent stories

-were poor. They were not written from actual memory of the future, but

-were the ordinary stories one might expect from a 20-year-old boy. The

-past was dim and memory faded. Blascomb and Crane, Crane and Blascomb,

-which was the C.D. agent, and what was C.D. anyway?</p>

-

-<p>Enough of the details remained to shock him into an awareness of his

-desperate plight. The rejuvenation process had worked too well, for

-Donovan had waited dangerously long. As the body grew younger the

-tissue cells were consumed and youthful cells replaced them. The

-process that had worked for body cells did the same for the cells of

-the brain. Those portions of the brain containing the knowledge and

-ability of a 70-year-old man were gradually being replaced with new,

-untrained cells. He had failed to re-educate himself as new cells

-replaced the old, and had come to the brink of disaster. Sufficient

-intelligence and manual dexterity remained to compensate for that, but

-in a few years the task would be hopeless.</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>Excitedly, for he knew his life depended on it, he rummaged through his

-book shelves looking for a copy of his first story, "Turn Backward, O

-Time!" It contained, he remembered, a concise, accurate description

-of the mechanism for the time-machine. The magazine itself was old,

-the sheets turning brown and the pages breaking. He read the story in

-haste, vaguely remembering the plot. The actual description of the

-operating mechanism, he found to his consternation, was missing. "I

-will cut one or two paragraphs," the editor had said, "<i>They are not

-convincing, technically ... they lack verisimilitude!</i>"</p>

-

-<p>Not convincing! If he did not find them he was doomed to become a

-child, and then a babbling idiot of a baby and would disappear entirely

-within twenty years. He telephoned the magazine's office and asked for

-the editor.</p>

-

-<p>"Sorrree," the secretary said, "Mr. O'Sloane is quite ill. The doctors

-are afraid he might not pass through the night. He's very old, you

-know."</p>

-

-<p>"Can he speak?" Donovan asked desperately.</p>

-

-<p>"He's had a stroke. Can't say a word. Completely paralyzed, Sorrreee."</p>

-

-<p>Donovan cursed the carelessness that had led him to this difficult

-position. He knew that O'Sloane kept the originals of his favorite

-stories in a collection in his office. If O'Sloane died it was

-possible that some enterprising youthful editor would destroy the old

-manuscripts in a fit of house-cleaning.</p>

-

-<p>"This is Donovan," he said quickly, "I am trying to locate the original

-copy of "Turn Backward, O Time" which O'Sloane has in his files. I must

-study the original papers; it's extremely important. If there is a

-substitute editor, will you ask him to keep an eye open for it."</p>

-

-<p>"Cerrrtainleee."</p>

-

-<p>He sighed and took a taxi to the editorial office. It would be best

-to get it as quickly as possible. The original manuscript was quite

-safe. Donovan need only copy the original description. Even if he were

-no longer able to grasp the theory of it, the machine was still easy

-enough to build from the description.</p>

-

-<p>Within a few hours he would be back in the 25th century for a reversal.

-For his next trip back he would choose Ancient Egypt. The 20th century

-was heading for the Atomic Wars and he was fortunate in being able to

-escape. After Egypt he would choose the Inca civilization. Did they not

-have legends of white gods that ruled them? The world was his, and he

-would be forever young. Immortality was within his grasp. No one could

-stop him now.</p>

-

-<p>He arrived at the building and rushed up the steps to the editorial

-office.</p>

-

-<p>"We found the manuscript, Mr. Donovan," the secretary told him

-brightly, looking twice at the flushed, handsome face.</p>

-

-<hr class="tb">

-

-<p>Donovan stepped into O'Sloane's office. Practically nothing had been

-touched as yet, for one of the staff editors had just begun to sort a

-pile of stacked papers from several cabinets. Donovan recognized the

-original manuscript of "Turn Backward, O Time!" upon the desk, and

-hurriedly skimmed through the pages. The description was intact, and

-while he could not remember why such a machine would work, he knew that

-it could be built and he could escape.</p>

-

-<p>With a sigh he pocketed the manuscript and introduced himself to the

-young editor who would probably succeed O'Sloane upon his death.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh yes," the editor with the curious thin smile said, "I have heard

-quite a bit about you, and have been waiting a long time for this

-meeting. We've met before, you know."</p>

-

-<p>"Really?" Donovan said. The face did appear familiar, but he could not

-recall the occasion.</p>

-

-<p>"My name is Edel W. Crane, C.D."</p>

-

-<p>Donovan felt a cold tremor of fear shake his body.</p>

-

-<p>He moistened his lips.</p>

-

-<p>"What do the letters C.D. stand for?"</p>

-

-<p>The pasty-faced young man closed and then locked the door of the

-office. Walking towards Donovan, the smile no longer there, he told

-him. Then he did what he had come to do.</p>

-

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+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>
+      Turn Backward, O Time!, by Walter Kubilius—A Project Gutenberg eBook
+    </title>
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+</head>
+<body>
+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Turn backward, o time!, by Walter Kubilius</p>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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+</div>
+
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Turn backward, o time!</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Walter Kubilius</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 7, 2023 [eBook #70496]</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURN BACKWARD, O TIME! ***</div>
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+
+<h1>TURN BACKWARD, O TIME!</h1>
+
+<h2>By Walter Kubilius</h2>
+
+<p>The one hope for Donovan was to<br>
+escape into the past, become a<br>
+citizen of the early 20th Century.<br>
+But he overlooked the aftermath....</p>
+
+<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br>
+Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951.<br>
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br>
+the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt="">
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>"Adel W. Crane, C.D." Donovan held the Identi-plast in his hands, the
+fingers trembling slightly. "What do the letters 'C.D.' stand for?"
+he asked, determined to play the part of an honest citizen who had no
+interest in unlicensed rejuvenation or time travel.</p>
+
+<p>The chalk-faced young man with the fixed smile told him: "Cyclic
+Detection. You may have heard our more dramatic nickname, Criminal
+Destroyers; I've been an agent since 2452."</p>
+
+<p>High-strung Donovan moistened his lips. Of course he had heard of the
+C.D. In an age when cyclic travel backward through the centuries was
+an established science, the Komitet that governed the Home Planet
+had to employ ruthless measures to cope with any experimenters whose
+uncontrolled work might threaten to change past temporal cycles. The
+C.D. were the scavengers of the World Komitet; they scoured the past
+centuries eliminating illegal and unlicensed cyclic travellers. In a
+rigidly-controlled solar system there were thousands of law-breakers,
+political disappointees, and even youth-seekers like Donovan, who hoped
+for life-extensions in past ages. The C.D., with terror and all the
+resources of the solar system, hunted them down and exterminated them.
+Quietly, ruthlessly, and painfully.</p>
+
+<p>"The criminal Blascomb," Crane said, the fixed smile still on the thin
+lips, "has been observed near the Donovan metallurgical plants. The
+Komitet suspects that someone close to your office may have established
+contact with him for illegal rejuvenation."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes left Donovan's taut face and scanned the office walls. Control
+boards recording operations in extra-terrestial metallin plants lined
+two sides of the office. The only break in the sternness of the walls
+was an antique painting, a still-life abstraction that must have dated
+way back to the 20th century. Crane stared at its flashes of color, the
+fixed smile turning to amused contempt.</p>
+
+<p>Donovan dared not ask for additional details. The word or whim of the
+Komitet was law. Criminal Destroyer! Donovan shuddered; he had spent
+the past six months in quietly transferring ownership of the Trust to
+various fronts for Blascomb. A fortune worth several erg-units squared
+to the 6th power had already changed hands. Had the C.D. caught him
+before Blascomb could deliver on the rejuvenation and time-escape deal?</p>
+
+<p>"We have nothing to hide," Donovan said, "my staff will cooperate with
+the C.D. I assume you want access to the psycho-record files?"</p>
+
+<p>Edel W. Crane, contemptuous eyes turning away from the still-life,
+reached a bony hand for the approval slip.</p>
+
+<p>"I will let you know what I find."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Donovan stood up, and when the C.D. agent left he frantically sent out
+a conscious call to Blascomb's thought-frequency number.</p>
+
+<p>"By the Komitet!" Blascomb's wave-induced voice rang in Donovan's
+ears, "I told you never to call me unless it was most urgent."</p>
+
+<p>"This is urgent," Donovan thought desperately, "Crane, a C.D. agent,
+was here a minute ago. He's going to look over the books of the Trust."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't find a thing," Blascomb's thoughts were confident in
+Donovan's mind, "They haven't caught a single one of the men I've sent
+back into the 17th century; just be patient and we'll cyclic you out
+within a week."</p>
+
+<p>"Then hurry. My heart's in bad shape and I can't last much longer. I'm
+practically being kept alive by that rotten Callistan serum."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay alive for one more week," Blascomb thought encouragingly, "and
+you'll be young for centuries."</p>
+
+<p><i>Turn backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight!</i> The song sped
+through Donovan's mind, lifting his spirits. To be young again, and to
+be free from the constant supervision and threat of the terrifying C.D.!</p>
+
+<p>"As for Crane," Blascomb went on, "It's part of the service I'm giving
+you. We've arranged a false-lead case in your office. Crane has his
+talons set for your brother-in-law. Shortly before the C.D. annihilates
+him your escape will be arranged to throw suspicion upon him. We will
+make it seem that your brother-in-law killed you for denouncing him
+to the C.D. Crane will never see through the subterfuge; you'll be
+safe—perhaps forever."</p>
+
+<p>His brother-in-law's life was a cheap price to pay for youth. Donovan
+stared at his stiff, corpse-like hands. All he needed was one more
+week. He would make one more effort to secure a Life-Extension—and
+then....</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The Examiner for the Board of Life waited while Donovan dressed. The
+answer could already be seen in the official's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," the Examiner said, "but the laws of the Komitet are
+fairly stringent. Only those whose social value is above Par 195 may
+be rejuvenated. Not much value is placed upon engineers and Trust
+managers who can easily be replaced from each year's Birth Quota. The
+application is denied, and there's no use appealing it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's unjust!" Donovan exclaimed, ignoring the alarming pain in
+his failing heart. "All I want is ten more years—not even a full
+return to youth! If there's no room on Home Planet, let me go the
+extra-terrestials or even some asteroid. I'll make any contribution
+required to...."</p>
+
+<p>The Examiner, who had often heard such vain pleas, rapped his desk
+with the blood-analyscope. "The Komitet is far too wise to permit
+socially unnecessary extensions of the life span, just as it does not
+permit unlicensed time travel. What would happen if we allowed you
+to be rejuvenated, and then permitted extra-terrestial emigration?
+There would be millions of old or sick people like you demanding
+equal treatment and equal consideration. Before long the planets
+and asteroids would be overpopulated and independent colonies set
+up thereon which would eventually come in conflict with the Home
+Planet Komitet. No, my friend, the Komitet is wise in decreeing that
+rejuvenation and human birth are mutually contradictory. Rather than
+sacrifice birth, with the consequent stagnation of the human species,
+the Komitet has decided rigidly to control youth-extensions, and grants
+those periods of additional life only to the socially valuable."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Donovan said bitterly, "the Komitet keeps itself immortal while
+the rest of us have to die."</p>
+
+<p>The Examiner's voice was hard. "Shall I denounce you to the C.D.?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg forgiveness," Donovan said; "your decision is a just one and I
+shall make no appeal."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Blascomb had a very persistent thought-call. Donovan relaxed in the
+office chair and let his consciousness-levels sink to the call-number.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the moment," the thought patterns registered. "The C.D.
+is about to close in with the faked evidence we've prepared. Your
+brother-in-law's about to call. Trust in me; all is ready. Do not
+become frightened, for excessive adrenalin might upset the required
+endocrine balance."</p>
+
+<p>Before he could frame a reply, Blascomb's thought faded away. The
+office door slid open and Edel W. Crane walked in. Donovan's heart
+throbbed painfully: was this an unexpected crisis in their plans, or
+had Blascomb prepared even this?</p>
+
+<p>"The C.D.'s finished its analysis," Crane said, "I thought you might be
+interested."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, I—"</p>
+
+<p>"The case was very simple. I wish citizens would realize that they
+cannot fight against the enormous resources of the C.D. We will
+destroy—"</p>
+
+<p>The public-screen flashed urgently. Donovan excused himself and turned
+the knob. His brother-in-law's angry face switched into view.</p>
+
+<p>"Donovan! That was a dirty rotten thing to do. What right did you have
+to denounce me to the C.D.? I should kill you for this!"</p>
+
+<p>Donovan's bewilderment was genuine. He felt Crane's eyes upon him, and
+a thrill of admiration for Blascomb's genius suddenly swept through him.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" he managed to say.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to see you immediately. I'm downstairs, in back of the
+pilo-cab station."</p>
+
+<p>"Later—"</p>
+
+<p>"Now!"</p>
+
+<p>The image snapped off. Donovan turned to the C.D. agent. "'Scuse me for
+a moment," he stammered, "some family trouble. I'll be back in a short
+while."</p>
+
+<p>Crane glanced up. "I'll wait."</p>
+
+<p>Donovan walked through his office, conscious that he was doing this
+for the last time. Rejuvenation was like death. You put an end to a
+lifetime casually and without haste.</p>
+
+<p>At the pilo-cab station, the wind cutting down from the whirr of
+swooping cabs, Donovan met Blascomb. There were two bright flashes, and
+then the smell of disintegrated flesh. Blascomb gestured toward two
+graying pools on the plasticized floor in back of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Murder and suicide," he said, obviously pleased with himself, "The
+C.D. will think you are dead. The murderer's body is also there to
+provide a motive for the transfer of the Trust's funds in the event
+Crane becomes too thorough. He'll be here soon; we work fast now."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The special pilo-cab dropped them into a gravity-shielded warehouse
+above the European Desert. It housed Blascomb's laboratory. The
+rejuvenation process was even simpler than Donovan had expected.</p>
+
+<p>"Not the Fountain of Youth, exactly," Blascomb explained as he plunged
+in the needle, "but a selective antibody that attacks only aging tissue
+and forces replacements practically on an embryonic level of activity.
+Unlike the Callistan serum, which is merely a stimulant, this antibody
+creates from its destroyed tissue a catalyst capable of stimulating
+chromosomes and genes. By the very process of feeding upon itself, the
+body grows younger. The net result is a reversal of the life process,
+an anabolism making you grow younger, year by year."</p>
+
+<p>"Eventually to disappear as a single cell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ultimately, yes. Long before that period, probably when you're a
+young man, you'll have to return to 2482 for a reversion to normal
+metabolism."</p>
+
+<p>"The process can be repeated?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indefinitely."</p>
+
+<p>Donovan breathed deeply. "Immortality!"</p>
+
+<p>Blascomb did not smile. "Only if the C.D. does not find you. Unlicensed
+rejuvenation is punishable by execution in an extremely painful manner.
+You're a doomed man now if the C.D. even finds you. The worst tortures
+of the Middle Ages would be nothing compared to what Crane would do to
+you or me if he tracks us down."</p>
+
+<p>"You can stay in the present time-cycle," Donovan said, "but I'm tired
+of control and supervision. Send me to some period where an individual
+had a chance to work and live without state control. Give me the times
+of individualism!"</p>
+
+<p>"C.D. agents are everywhere in the time-cycles, tracking down illegal
+immigrants. Quite a number of the men I've rejuvenated chose the
+Renaissance for escape, but I'm afraid that a good part of that cycle's
+carnage was the work of such C.D. agents as our friend Crane. I'd
+recommend another period."</p>
+
+<p>"The Golden Age of Greece?"</p>
+
+<p>Blascomb shook his head. "Already taken. Aristotle, Plato, and a few
+others are 25th century men. Archimedes was murdered by a C.D. agent,
+and Socrates sent to his death by a group of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Their fates were known to history—why did those men leave the 25th
+century to live in that cycle?"</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders. "They probably felt that the few years of
+extra life were worth it. Well, into what period do you want to go and
+what would you do there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand the paradoxes," Donovan said, "What if I chose to
+build gravity-deflectors in Ancient Rome?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would be impossible because there were no such manufacturers then.
+It would mean that you were either promptly killed by a C.D. agent who
+recognized the anachronistic attempt, or you had changed your mind."</p>
+
+<p>"But if I can choose any period, it means that I can alter history at
+will—which presumes that the present can also be changed."</p>
+
+<p>"That is what the Komitet believes, and that is why the C.D. is so
+ruthless and brutal with unlicensed time travellers. The real answer
+is that in the final analysis your decision to choose a certain
+time period is already made, and the things you will do are already
+determined. Free will is an illusion; it is synonymous with incomplete
+perception."</p>
+
+<p>"Then send me into the 20th century. As an engineer I would be able to
+make some sort of living there."</p>
+
+<p>"Dangerous. Don't practice your profession. Study some field which is
+completely alien to you so that should you come across a C.D. agent he
+would not recognize the work of a 25th century man."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean like an artist or a writer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>Donovan laughed. "I've never held a paint brush or written more than a
+one-page letter, but why not? Unloose the cyclic band, Blascomb; set me
+loose in the 20th century, and give my regards to the C.D.!"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>In the dimly lighted garret above the tavern, Donovan stood before his
+easel. His face was no longer lined, for the past twenty-five years
+had made him a much younger man. He had taken Blascomb's advice and
+had studied a field completely alien to him. In his own time, the 25th
+century, his paintings would have been considered laughably amateurish,
+but for 1926 they were infinitely superior to anything produced by 20th
+century artists.</p>
+
+<p>"Why can't they <i>see</i>?" he asked his agent angrily, when his third show
+passed without the sale of a single painting.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see them," the agent said, standing in front of a still-life
+abstraction with flashes of color, "but your way of working is too far
+advanced for our time. Believe me, a few hundred years from now your
+paintings will be regarded as the work of a great genius."</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime, I starve."</p>
+
+<p>"I can help you."</p>
+
+<p>Donovan threw down the paint brushes. "No. No. There's no use being
+ahead of one's time. I can't make a living as an artist. I may as well
+go back to digging ditches."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you can work part-time and paint at night. What did you do
+before you started painting?"</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated, but what was there to be afraid of? "I—I was an
+engineer."</p>
+
+<p>"I can get you a job with a construction company."</p>
+
+<p>"No. No! I want nothing whatever to do with engineering! Nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>In the 25 years that he had lived in the 20th century he had turned
+from a man of 65 to a healthy, robust 40. For a long time he had lived
+in fear that the dreaded arms of the C.D. would reach out for him, and
+that he would stand face to face with terror-inspiring Crane. But he
+had never met anyone who seemed to be a C.D., a Criminal Destroyer.
+Sometimes he felt the avenging sword of the Komitet hanging over his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>There were some statesmen and philosophers mentioned in the newspapers
+whose ideas seemed to indicate a 25th century origin, but he avoided
+them in the fear that they might be plants to draw out the illegals. It
+was probably that the C.D. would never find out the deception, and if
+they did there was little chance of locating him among the two billion
+people on Home Planet.</p>
+
+<p>"You have to make a living somehow," the agent persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing but engineering," Donovan said, "and that I will never
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe there's some other field in which you could use engineering
+skills." He thought for a moment, and then reached into his briefcase.
+"I picked this up on a newsstand. You might like it."</p>
+
+<p>Donovan glanced at the magazine's cover.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the latest thrill—scientific fiction. Maybe with your
+engineering knowledge you could write a story or two."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>When the agent left, Donovan read through the magazine, then went
+out to look up other stories of the same nature. One story offered a
+time-travel theory which was absurdly inaccurate. Another purported
+to deal with the inhabitants of Mars, none of which looked at all
+the way the writers imagined them to be. Donovan read as many as he
+could find, and was fascinated by the hopeless incompetence and
+scientific inaccuracy of the so-called writers. The time-travel story
+was laughable; even a child could produce a far more exciting tale by
+describing the Watson-Gorshevich experiments that lead to the discovery
+of repetitive time-cycles back in 2364.</p>
+
+<p><i>Why not</i>, he thought to himself. <i>Why not write these stories of
+the future? Who could do them better than a man who had come from
+the future?</i> These were not engineering journals where accuracy was
+required, nor would anyone ever act upon the scientific discoveries he
+might record. Above all, no one would attempt to build any machines
+which would immediately attract the attention of the C.D. He would do
+nothing which would in the slightest way affect historic development.</p>
+
+<p>Pressed by the need for money, and fascinated by the possibilities
+in science fiction, Donovan began to write a story. He employed a
+pen-name, and avoided the general theory of retrograde-cycle travel
+backward above time, but limited himself to travelling spirally into
+the future. He described the mechanism he himself would have to produce
+in order to get back to Blascomb for anabolism-correction, and produced
+a fanciful tale regarding life in the year 3,000. The letter from the
+editor came within a week.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><i>Dear Mr. Donovan</i>:</p>
+
+<p><i>Enclosed find check for your story, "Turn Backward, O Time!" I have
+seldom read a more convincing fantasy. One could almost believe that
+the apparatus you described would actually work. I believe this
+story will be a science-fiction classic and am placing your original
+manuscript in my collection. I would appreciate seeing other examples
+of your work.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>When the story appeared in print, several paragraphs describing
+the construction of the time-machine were omitted by the editor.
+"Technically unconvincing," they told him; "they mar up the
+verisimilitude of a great story." "Turn Backward, O Time!" became an
+instant success.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later, Donovan contributed another story, this time based
+on actual events on Jupiter which he simply transferred to a different
+time-cycle on Vega. Vaguely recalling some warning of Blascomb's that
+while the future could not be changed, it was best to play safe and
+not draw the attention of the C.D., he twisted and changed all the
+scientific facts involved. The check for the second story was promptly
+sent.</p>
+
+<p>Within a few months Donovan, under his pseudonym, which was kept
+secret, was launched upon his career as a writer of science fiction.
+Readers praised him for his convincing fantasy and editors competed for
+his services.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Memory of the 25th century gradually faded from his mind as years
+passed. At times he awoke in horror after nightmares that Crane of the
+C.D. had finally caught him, but these terrifying dreams became rarer.
+He had exposed himself repeatedly in fiction. Time and time again he
+had described actual historical events of the Space Colony Wars in
+his stories. On one occasion he described the technique for the cure
+of cancer discovered in 2019. The readers' section of the magazine
+soon carried letters from doctors who were amused that a writer could
+present such a simple household remedy and dare suggest that it might
+be efficacious for cancer.</p>
+
+<p>Donovan was amused by the thought that Crane might be diligently
+searching for him somewhere in the Renaissance; if so, the C.D. agent's
+fury must be mounting.</p>
+
+<p>He changed his name and identity every ten years to conceal his gradual
+return to youth. He had the pleasure of seeing himself hailed as his
+successor in popularity, as he established new names and let the older
+ones die out. His excuse to the editors was that he wanted to enter
+into competition anew, make sure that his name alone was not carrying
+the stories. He was happy. Sometimes, however, later stories were
+panned by "fans" as "imitations of the classics by the greatest stf
+writer the world has ever known."</p>
+
+<p>Only the aging gentleman who had bought Donovan's first manuscript
+knew, but the old man signed the checks and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>In his happiness and self-satisfaction, Donovan became more careless
+with his stories. If he had been able to outwit Crane and the dreaded
+C.D., surely he could dash off stories good enough for the poor minds
+of 20th century science-fiction readers!</p>
+
+<p>Then the tide turned. Fan letters in the magazines began really to tear
+into his fiction; they <i>were</i> third-rate; they lacked imagination.
+They were ordinary stories written by an ordinary mind; and science
+fiction required tales written by men whose minds were well ahead of
+20th century thought. The day finally came when all the editors began
+rejecting his stories. First one, then another—and finally every story
+written received a rejection slip.</p>
+
+<p>Donovan could not understand the reason for the change. A few years
+ago—or was it decades?—each story of his was labelled a "classic";
+now they were not even acceptable. Had science fiction changed so much
+since his decision to become a writer in 1929? He dared not discuss it
+with anyone, for he had no friends and he trusted no one. The C.D. was
+everywhere, but there was one man in whom he had the deepest confidence.</p>
+
+<p>Donovan visited the aging editor and felt sorry for the worn-out old
+man. He himself had once been like this, but was now free from death.
+He thought of taking his benefactor with him into the 25th century
+and saving the editor's life. But suppose Blascomb's laboratory had
+been captured? Donovan could manage for himself, but it would be cruel
+to leave the old man in the deadly hands of the C.D. No, it was best
+to say nothing about rejuvenation to the editor; he would only think
+Donovan was trying out a story-idea.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been your editor for thirty years," the old man's voice cracked.
+His half-blind eyes loomed through thick lenses.</p>
+
+<p>"It's been a long time," Donovan said.</p>
+
+<p>"My—My eyes are not what they used to be," the other said, "A man
+about 50 years old wrote that great classic, "Turn Backward, O Time!"
+He must be about 80 now. But you look only 20. Ah, laddie, you're
+trying to fool me. You must be his son!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," Donovan said quickly, "We have the same name."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that explains it," the other said wearily; "it would break my old
+heart if a talent like your father's disintegrated. But we came to talk
+about your stories. No, son, you're not the writer your father was.
+Your tales lack imagination; there is no originality in them. The ideas
+are hackneyed, the writing third-rate. They sound like poor imitations
+of the great tales told by your father. There was a man! There was a
+writer!"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Donovan left him, keeping the secret of his identity. When he returned
+to his home he looked in the mirror, and the face of a rose-cheeked
+20-year-old youngster stared back at him. Fifty years of happy living
+in the 20th century! It would soon be necessary to return to the 25th
+century so that Blascomb could reverse the antibiotic catalytic process
+that had set him growing younger. It was impossible to stay in his
+present youthful state much longer. In a few years he would be a child.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh he walked to his desk, took out paper and pen, and began to
+draw the diagrams for the apparatus which would send him forward into
+the 25th century.</p>
+
+<p>For three hours he worked confidently, and then the sweat began to drip
+from his forehead and his heart began to pound fearfully. "It is not
+possible," he said, uneasily. "It will all come back to me soon. Now
+what the devil did Blascomb tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>He had become lazy, and his brain was not used to hard work. He said
+this to himself but he could not shake off the sense of fear. He took
+a cold shower, rubbing himself briskly, then shot a stimulant into his
+blood stream. Preparing the desk once more, he began to work.</p>
+
+<p>The papers gathered, the pencils broke, and the night gradually turned
+to morning. The finished sketch of the cycle travellers was basically
+correct, but the most important operating mechanism was still missing.
+Try as he could, he was unable to bring it up from his memory.</p>
+
+<p>"By the solar system," he swore, "what is the matter with me? I have
+forgotten every detail."</p>
+
+<p>He tried to think back. At one time he had known the mechanism
+thoroughly. As an engineer he was completely familiar with every single
+plate and tube, but now he couldn't remember anything but the general
+appearance of the finished machine. Fear spurred his mind as he hunted
+for a solution. Something was happening to his mind. He began to think
+of his stories. The same thing had happened there. At one time he
+remembered every detail of life in the 25th century, and could describe
+them easily. Now events were dim and he knew now why his recent stories
+were poor. They were not written from actual memory of the future, but
+were the ordinary stories one might expect from a 20-year-old boy. The
+past was dim and memory faded. Blascomb and Crane, Crane and Blascomb,
+which was the C.D. agent, and what was C.D. anyway?</p>
+
+<p>Enough of the details remained to shock him into an awareness of his
+desperate plight. The rejuvenation process had worked too well, for
+Donovan had waited dangerously long. As the body grew younger the
+tissue cells were consumed and youthful cells replaced them. The
+process that had worked for body cells did the same for the cells of
+the brain. Those portions of the brain containing the knowledge and
+ability of a 70-year-old man were gradually being replaced with new,
+untrained cells. He had failed to re-educate himself as new cells
+replaced the old, and had come to the brink of disaster. Sufficient
+intelligence and manual dexterity remained to compensate for that, but
+in a few years the task would be hopeless.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Excitedly, for he knew his life depended on it, he rummaged through his
+book shelves looking for a copy of his first story, "Turn Backward, O
+Time!" It contained, he remembered, a concise, accurate description
+of the mechanism for the time-machine. The magazine itself was old,
+the sheets turning brown and the pages breaking. He read the story in
+haste, vaguely remembering the plot. The actual description of the
+operating mechanism, he found to his consternation, was missing. "I
+will cut one or two paragraphs," the editor had said, "<i>They are not
+convincing, technically ... they lack verisimilitude!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Not convincing! If he did not find them he was doomed to become a
+child, and then a babbling idiot of a baby and would disappear entirely
+within twenty years. He telephoned the magazine's office and asked for
+the editor.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorrree," the secretary said, "Mr. O'Sloane is quite ill. The doctors
+are afraid he might not pass through the night. He's very old, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Can he speak?" Donovan asked desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"He's had a stroke. Can't say a word. Completely paralyzed, Sorrreee."</p>
+
+<p>Donovan cursed the carelessness that had led him to this difficult
+position. He knew that O'Sloane kept the originals of his favorite
+stories in a collection in his office. If O'Sloane died it was
+possible that some enterprising youthful editor would destroy the old
+manuscripts in a fit of house-cleaning.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Donovan," he said quickly, "I am trying to locate the original
+copy of "Turn Backward, O Time" which O'Sloane has in his files. I must
+study the original papers; it's extremely important. If there is a
+substitute editor, will you ask him to keep an eye open for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Cerrrtainleee."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed and took a taxi to the editorial office. It would be best
+to get it as quickly as possible. The original manuscript was quite
+safe. Donovan need only copy the original description. Even if he were
+no longer able to grasp the theory of it, the machine was still easy
+enough to build from the description.</p>
+
+<p>Within a few hours he would be back in the 25th century for a reversal.
+For his next trip back he would choose Ancient Egypt. The 20th century
+was heading for the Atomic Wars and he was fortunate in being able to
+escape. After Egypt he would choose the Inca civilization. Did they not
+have legends of white gods that ruled them? The world was his, and he
+would be forever young. Immortality was within his grasp. No one could
+stop him now.</p>
+
+<p>He arrived at the building and rushed up the steps to the editorial
+office.</p>
+
+<p>"We found the manuscript, Mr. Donovan," the secretary told him
+brightly, looking twice at the flushed, handsome face.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Donovan stepped into O'Sloane's office. Practically nothing had been
+touched as yet, for one of the staff editors had just begun to sort a
+pile of stacked papers from several cabinets. Donovan recognized the
+original manuscript of "Turn Backward, O Time!" upon the desk, and
+hurriedly skimmed through the pages. The description was intact, and
+while he could not remember why such a machine would work, he knew that
+it could be built and he could escape.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh he pocketed the manuscript and introduced himself to the
+young editor who would probably succeed O'Sloane upon his death.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," the editor with the curious thin smile said, "I have heard
+quite a bit about you, and have been waiting a long time for this
+meeting. We've met before, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Really?" Donovan said. The face did appear familiar, but he could not
+recall the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Edel W. Crane, C.D."</p>
+
+<p>Donovan felt a cold tremor of fear shake his body.</p>
+
+<p>He moistened his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"What do the letters C.D. stand for?"</p>
+
+<p>The pasty-faced young man closed and then locked the door of the
+office. Walking towards Donovan, the smile no longer there, he told
+him. Then he did what he had come to do.</p>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TURN BACKWARD, O TIME! ***</div>
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