"That you will! " agreed the sergeant. -- Look at me - born in 1917-still around, still young, still enjoying life. --

I went back to the jump room, set everything on preselected zero.

2301-V-7 Nov. 1970-NYC -"Pop's Place": I came out of the storeroom carrying a fifth of Drambuie to account for the minute I had been gone. My a.s.sistant was arguing with the customer who had been playing "I'm My Own Grand-paw! " I said,

"Oh, let him play it, then unplug it. -- I was very tired.

It's rough, but somebody must do it, and it's very hard to recruit anyone in the later years, since the Mistake of

1972. Can you think of a better source than to pick people all fouled up where they are and give them well-paid, interesting

(even though dangerous) work in a necessary cause? Everybody knows now why the Fizzle War of 1963 fizzled. The bomb with New

York's number on it didn't go off, a hundred other things didn't go as planned-all arranged by the likes of me.

But not the Mistake of "72; that one is not our fault-and can't be undone; there's no paradox to resolve. A thing either is, or it isn't, now and forever amen. But there won't be another like it; an order dated "1992" takes precedence any year.

I closed five minutes early, leaving a letter in the cash register telling my day manager that I was accepting his offer to buy me out, to see my lawyer as I was leaving on a long vacation. The Bureau might or might not pick up his payments, but they want things left tidy. I went to the room in the back of the storeroom and forward to 1993.

2200-VII- 12 Jan 1993-Sub Rockies Annex-HQ Temporal

DOL: I checked in with the duty officer and went to my quarters, intending to sleep for a week. I had fetched the bottle we bet (after all, I won it) and took a drink before I wrote my report. It tasted foul, and I wondered why I had ever liked Old Underwear. But it was better than nothing; I don't like to be cold sober, I think too much. But I don't really hit the bottle either; other people have snakes-I have people.

I dictated my report; forty recruitments all okayed by the Psych Bureau - counting my own, which I knew would be okayed. I was here, wasn't I? Then I taped a request for a.s.signment to operations; I was sick of recruiting. I dropped both in the slot and headed for bed.

My eye fell on "The By-Laws of Time, " over my bed:

Never Do Yesterday What Should Be Done Tomorrow.

If at Last You Do Succeed, Never Try Again.

A St.i.tch in Time Saves Nine Billion.

A Paradox May Be Paradoctored.

It Is Earlier When You Think.

Ancestors Are Just People.

Even Jove Nods.

They didn't inspire me the way they had when I was a recruit; thirty subjective-years of time-jumping wears you down. I undressed, and when I got down to the hide I looked at my belly. A Cesarean leaves a big scar, but I'm so hairy now that I don't notice it unless I look for it.

Then I glanced at the ring on my finger.

The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail, Forever and Ever. I know where I came from - but where did all you zombies come from?

I felt a headache coming on, but a headache powder is one thing I do not take. I did once - and you all went away.

So I crawled into bed and whistled out the light.

You aren't really there at all. There isn't anybody but me - Jane - here alone in the dark.

I miss you dreadfully!

Last-modified: Fri, 21-Feb-97 18:55:38 GMT