I've thought a lot about Darrin in the last two days. How perfect he was when he was born!

In 2111 Ferdy was twenty-two and I was just eighteen. I came to Mrs. Aperson in June, right after my high school graduation, and Ferdy was expected in two weeks. Certainly if Ferdy had never visited that summer, Mrs. Aperson would have delayed finding a companion because she was still in superb health.

We cleaned every room in the house during those two weeks, and I baked breakfast rolls for the freezer and made about thirty quarts of chicken stock for soup and sauces.

At last he came, with the news that he had not yet completed his work at Yale, even though he had been there for four years, summers included. He intended to stay, he said, for six weeks.

He never appeared for breakfast, and he sometimes went out without telling us he would not be taking supper. I do not remember that he was a poor guest in other ways, but I know I treated him as my employer's favorite nephew.

When he had been there a week, he started to come by my room after we had retired. For two weeks, he wanted to talk, but after that he wanted to slip into my bed and "cuddle," as he put it.

The orphanage had prepared me for "cuddling," but I knew immediately my job with Mrs. Aperson was at risk if I objected. After another week, I did not want to reject his advances.

For the next four weeks, we made love every night. My room was at the opposite end of the house from Mrs. Aperson's room since I occupied a small suite originally designed for the Judge's housekeeper. In addition, Mrs. Aperson was a sound sleeper. If she knew what was happening, she never said anything to me. Not that summer, anyway.

How careful and considerate he was as a lover! He had soft hands, unlike the boys in the orphanage, and he took his time. Some nights we had intercourse three times before he tiptoed back to his room.

I went through life in a daze that month. I completed my tasks but I thought only about the excitement of the night ahead.

Ferdy left in late August, to return to Yale for another attempt at his senior year. By mid-September I knew I was pregnant. By mid-October I had found the strength to tell Mrs. Aperson.

"It's Ferdy's baby, of course," she said. "He can't keep his hands off any woman, and you were so convenient. I should have realized what was happening and found you another situation until he left."

"Yes," I said. "What can we do?"

Mrs. Aperson nodded her head and finally said, "Abortion is too dangerous now, with the acute population shortage and the government supervising all the clinics and orphanages. We need to keep you healthy so you can deliver a strong baby. Then, we'll decide."

On May 7, 2112, Darrin was born at Mrs. Aperson's home. She and her doctor attended. Darrin was very active and very beautiful, with white skin and bright blue eyes.

By mid-May I was resuming my household tasks. Darrin slept in my room, and I watched him carefully.

On June 8, Darrin was cold when I woke up. The doctor was called, and she p.r.o.nounced Darrin a victim of crib death. She wrote out a death certificate.

That afternoon, Mrs. Aperson wrapped Darrin in a silk blanket, put him into a large plastic bag, and took him to his resting place in the attic.

July 5, 2142 The trip is very relaxing. I have read seven books and have completed knitting two scarves.

The top deck has an empty stateroom, and I asked the purser if I could rent it for one evening. The price was $550, and I decided I would splurge. I was rewarded with three very good meals with meat, both beef and pork, and a whirlpool bath. The king-sized bed gave me the first sound sleep I have had on this craft.

I also found a man who was interested in an afternoon of lovemaking, and we spent several hours in his cabin, one that was about twice the size of my one-day rental. How rough he was! I won't see him again.

July 20, 2142 I have counted seventeen Church workers on the craft and three others going to support the Fundamentalists of Christ on Clarkl. It appears everyone uses the same set of recipes.

One man on the bottom deck is going to work on the farms. He is from Minnesota and is in charge of growing wild rice. He says the conditions are very similar, except that there is no period of warmth on Clarkl.

July 22, 2142 My one-afternoon stand on the top deck has asked the purser for a rate for the vacant room for the remainder of the trip. He wants me to be available. I told the purser I was not interested in moving.

July 31, 2142 My admirer has increased the offer to include $5,000 in Universal Gold for the rest of the trip. I have, again, refused.

The good thing about having a careful, considerate lover is that you are happier with your memories of that lover than you are with the in-the-flesh presence of a lesser mortal.

August 5, 2142 I feel very relaxed. The terrible anxieties of the last few months in Pittsburgh are forgotten, for now. I have read the complete works of Agatha Christie and P. G. Wodehouse, all available on my computer. I have started to read, or reread, the works of Charles d.i.c.kens.

The pa.s.sengers are quite congenial. Our deck and the bottom deck share a dining room, where the Clarklian diet is on the buffet line every day. Many people just stay in the dining room and its adjacent tiny lounge to visit between the meals, and I can always find a good game of pinochle to join.

Mostly, though, I return to my cabin and sit on the bed to read. I have a huge "Pappa Bear" pillow, one with a pair of arms attached to a firm, overstuffed back, and I put that at the head of the bed. A small porthole is opposite the head of the bed, and I sometimes stare out into the pa.s.sing starry skies. I know we are not traveling through stars but only journeying back through time, but the stars seem to be moving, streaking through a dark gray universe.

In two days, we will begin the lateral trip, that point in the journey when we have reached a time right after the Big Bang. I understand the lateral trip will take eight days. Then, we will move forward in time to reach Clarkl.

I do not believe the Clarkl calendar is on our same schedule. I don't know if Earth is further along in time from the Big Bang or Clarkl is further along. It doesn't matter. Even if Clarkl is on a calendar that puts our compound there at the time of our Caesars, messages are able to travel to the exact time and place required. If I write to Ferdy from the time of the Caesars, the message transport system will deliver it to him in Pittsburgh in 2142.

August 17, 2142 I felt the craft transfer from the time-travel mode to the s.p.a.ce-travel mode. A different propelling mechanism is in use.

I have been thinking about writing to Ferdy. I have not communicated with him directly since Mrs. Aperson and I attended his wedding in 2229. We sat in the front row of the groom's section, and Mrs. Aperson was introduced as Ferdy's aunt. I sometimes wonder if she paid for that lavish rehearsal party we also attended. Certainly Ferdy was without a job at the time of his wedding, unlike nearly every other thirty-eight-year-old Yale graduate.

In the thirteen years since that wedding, he has sired three children. In the eighteen years before the wedding, I know of four children he sired.

Ferdy's wife never invited Mrs. Aperson to any function after the wedding. Certainly she was very frail and occasionally had bowel accidents, but she was Ferdy's uncle's widow. Surely they could have slipped her into their schedule.

August 25, 2142 The craft is now moving forward in time. The sound of the motor is different, even from the backward-in-time motor's sound.

The Captain is certain we will arrive exactly on schedule. There is nothing to delay us during the flight. There are no unplanned route changes or maintenance problems with the craft.

September 3, 2142 My admirer on the top deck has found a companion, a woman from the Fundamentalists of Christ who is a cook. She now sleeps in the large cabin, after putting in her shift in the second-cla.s.s kitchen. No rest for the weary.

Whoring seems so out of place for those people. They are always commandeering the dining room for a prayer meeting.

Half the girls from the orphanage are or were prost.i.tutes. Half the boys from the orphanage are or were in prison.

September 10, 2142 We are less than a month from our landing in Gilsumo, the capital of the large continent on Clarkl. I've got five scarves ready for the great handiwork trade on October 1.

People have formed friendships on this trip, to be sure. I believe I have spent more time talking to some of the women from the Congregation than I ever did talking to Ferdy. I have heard stories about troubles far, far more serious than mine. The suicides of husbands, the alcoholism of children, and the infidelity of lovers. I feel embarra.s.sed to say I am leaving home for ten years because my net worth is only $100,000.

I have never been strong enough to tell anybody the New Christian Congregation received my inheritance.

September 21, 2142 The Congregation's work leader on the flight talked to me briefly about my tasks today. She seemed to be even more in a fog than I about exactly what I would do, but she a.s.sured me Mr. Roderick would have everything ready for me to a.s.sume his duties. He has a reservation on the craft that leaves Clarkl on October 28.

Still lots of free time, though. I have nearly completed the works of Charles d.i.c.kens.

There are a few card games every day here. The Fundamentalists are not the avid card players the Congregation people are. I can always join a game if I want company.

One wonderful thing about Mrs. Aperson was that she was a good card player and frequently had invitations for evenings when an extra was needed to make up a fourth for bridge. She insisted I learn bridge, canasta, and pinochle so I could make up a second extra. I believe I had more fun on those evenings than on any other.

Of course, she did not entertain much. She told people she lived a very simple life, although many were dubious when they saw that big house. I cannot imagine, though, where all the money went. We had a small car and we rarely took it out. We ate very little meat. We rarely bought something for the house, and Mrs. Aperson was buried in a twenty-year-old dress. Even the funeral service was modest, with interment in a plot bought long ago by the Judge.

Over the years I heard so much about Judge Aperson that I believed I had known him. He was always described in the most glowing terms. His attire was elegant, his bearing was erect, his courtesy was much commented upon.

I often wondered how he had been gifted with a renegade like Ferdy for a nephew. In the early years of her marriage, Mrs. Aperson worried about being childless. The Judge was always philosophical, saying children were not necessary for his happiness. Then, in the late 2080s when Ferdy was born to the Judge's only sister, the Judge could not do enough for the boy.

Many times Mrs. Aperson told me she was happy the Judge had not lived to see Ferdy's latest antic, be it another illegitimate child or a failing grade at school.

October 5, 2142 The craft landed in Gilsumo yesterday, after several trips around the planet so the Earthlings could see the sights. I saw nothing as fine as the lush green farmlands of western Pennsylvania.

We went almost directly from the Gilsumo s.p.a.ceport to our compound, one of twelve the Congregation has within a seventy-mile radius of the capital. We traveled in an open-air bus, and I nearly froze my nose off. I was so cold I kept my eyes down in my collar, so I did not see much of the scenery.

Our compound contains the offices and the housing for the headquarters. We control the Congregation's activities and report to the contract manager on Earth.

For a headquarters, the place is very Spartan. You would think the headquarters would have the best of everything, but the minuscule cabin I will occupy is very rough. I have a small bed, a folding table, two folding chairs, a sink, and a toilet. The sink offers both hot and cold water, and the bed is covered with four wool blankets and an electric blanket with one of the four circuits burned out.

I got a quick look at Mr. Roderick's cabin, and it is very similar. Evidently there is no promotion to better quarters.

The only bathing facilities are in the staff hut, a building that is about the size of four cabins. That hut has a small dining room, a laundry room, men's showers, women's showers, and a dumbwaiter arrangement that connects to a nearby kitchen.

The kitchen services one of the dining facilities the Congregation manages for the Clarklians. That kitchen is attached to a large dining room, one that appears to have about seventy-five tables for two or four diners. I was given a brief tour of the kitchen and its dining room, and I saw a very cheerful place with nice table settings.

Our hut's dining room gets any leftovers. We have chipped china and gla.s.sware and bent forks. There is always plenty of food, I understand, but we are offered only what the Clarklians have not wanted. Right now, that means cabbage.

The office is a large room with six desks jammed together in the center. Mr. Roderick and I will share a desk while he is still here.

I have been given four days to acclimate myself to this planet, and then my work will start. The atmosphere is a little lighter, and I had a nosebleed on my first day. I have been told this will pa.s.s.

After the four days, I will work three full days and then one half day. I never will get a full day off.

October 7, 2142 Lots of time to explore today. I have been thinking about Louisa, with a sense almost as real as if I were back in Pittsburgh in Mrs. Aperson's big house.

Louisa came in 2114. Nine months before, Ferdy returned from a work a.s.signment in Peru. His mother, by that time, was with her brother in the family's plot, and Mrs. Aperson, for some reason, was worried that Ferdy was having a "nervous breakdown" after a disappointing foreign a.s.signment.

Actually, Ferdy had been fired for running an import and export business on the side. His employer did not believe Ferdy had been totally dedicated to the employer's success in Peru.

Ferdy probably never told Mrs. Aperson the complete story, but he certainly told me a wild tale of deceit and theft. Of course, he was entirely blameless, to hear him tell it.

Ferdy stayed for about eight weeks, long enough for Mrs. Aperson to be tired of his self-aggrandizement and for me to be pregnant again.

Little Louisa lived for less than four days. The doctor came again, and, this time, I could hear her shouting at Mrs. Aperson as they sat at the dining room table.

Again, Mrs. Aperson wrapped the tiny baby in a silk blanket and placed her in the attic.

November 12, 2142 Mr. Roderick is gone, back to West Virginia to his retirement and his grandchildren. I believe he was over seventy when he left.

The work is very routine now. I have twelve contacts here on Clarkl, and I gather a report from each of them each day. If the report is not here by midday, I call and make empty threats.

Then, I put all the numbers into a very simple computer program, and the program summarizes information for the contract manager on Earth.

Each dining room is responsible for reporting on the number of meals served, by hour. These Clarklians don't seem to have much of a separation between the meals, so we don't know what is breakfast for them. We serve various choices based on our own ideas. If they like what is offered, they eat it and sometimes call friends to join them. If they don't like what is offered, they pick at their food and keep going back to the buffet line to see if anything more interesting has appeared.

I also collect information about which dishes are prepared and when they are on the serving lines. If a stack of pancakes appears at 9:00 a.m. and is gone by 9:15, the dining room tells me that.

Then, I enter all this information into another computer program. I suspect important decisions are made about what the farms are producing based on the data I am inputting.

It is easy for me to see what is admired and what is not. The baked corn dish with nutmeg is a favorite, and so is apple pie. Anything with wild rice disappears from the serving line immediately. Anything with broccoli sits all day.

The deadlines are very strict. I have been able to keep up with the schedules because the dining rooms are very good about sending information to me. I suspect each dining room manager wants to look good since a few bonuses are sent out each year for production.

The farms are usually on the receiving end of the big bonuses. The people working on the farms are younger, perhaps in their thirties and forties, while the dining room help is older, some well into their seventies. The younger people seem always more interested in the bonuses and the older people seem always more interested in how soon they can leave for home.

December 15, 2142 I'm still keeping on top of the job, sending daily reports to Earth.

Still no note from Ferdy. Nothing. Maybe as Christmas draws closer I will hear from him.

I have been thinking about his wedding and how he found his bride.

Of course, I always hoped he would select me, but I knew I would have to win the Irish Sweepstakes to keep him. Year after year pa.s.sed, and the hope stayed alive inside me. The reality of my situation stayed alive, too.

As my college days drew to a close, we saw less and less of each other. While I was going to cla.s.ses, we would meet about once a week in downtown Pittsburgh, usually in a cheap hotel. He was always a great romantic, with a flower in his hand and a ready hug. Seeing Ferdy was the highlight of my week, something to look forward to after days of housework and cooking and reading.

I finished my college work when I was thirty-four, and Ferdy found his wife that year. She was the daughter of the chairman of a charity board, and Ferdy did some fundraising for that charity.

He always went to every fundraising event in a tuxedo, without any woman on his arm. After ten or fifteen different events for this charity, the woman condescended to speak to Ferdy. They went to dinner the next evening.

I never met him after that. He certainly was polite to me when he came to visit Mrs. Aperson, but it was all over between us.

Right after he met this woman, he called on us. Mrs. Aperson sent me from the room while she talked to him, and, as I understand it, he proposed the next day. This was in 2129.

I remember how depressed I was in 2129 and 2130. The wedding was scheduled for November of 2129, and I dreaded having to smile broadly while my lover agreed to keep himself only unto another woman.

The bride and her family cut Mrs. Aperson and me out of nearly every function. Surely they must have known who had paid for her three-carat engagement ring.

In 2130 Ferdy's bride talked her father into taking Ferdy into his firm as some kind of a roving manager, a person who would travel around to inspect the company's several sites. This lasted for about eight months, until the bride's father realized Ferdy was spending his money on high living and not actually showing up to do inspections. After that, Ferdy and the missus lived off her trust fund.

Three children came in the next several years, and their appearance solidified Ferdy's place in his bride's family. They became resigned to the fact that this b.u.m was there for keeps.

We saw the family about once a year after the children came. Ferdy and his bride brought the children to Mrs. Aperson's house on the Sat.u.r.day evening before Christmas to allow Mrs. Aperson to give the children their gifts. I cannot remember any gifts coming into the house for Mrs. Aperson or me.

February 1, 2143 A nice message from Mr. Roderick yesterday. He is almost home and having fun winning money at poker on the s.p.a.cecraft.

Every day is just about the same here. I create my daily report and that day's special report.

In the few months I have been here, I can see a trend toward more meals served in several of the dining rooms. I am hoping to correlate the increase in traffic to some favorite dish, but I can't see the pattern yet.

Our dining room manager, an older lady with an untidy bun, has a heuristic method for predicting what will go over well.

"It's sweet things," she insists. "They start to look for sweets as soon as they approach the serving line. There is always a terrible crowd around pancake syrup or the like. We can't keep that pineapple upside down cake for more than five minutes."

I don't see it. It looks more like certain vegetables, or perhaps the lack of certain vegetables. Corn is big. Broccoli is not. Corn fritters in a sweet dipping sauce are always a better draw than cake or pie.

March 3, 2143 Still working about seven hours a day, with a couple of afternoons off each week. I don't have any trouble with going back to my cabin after I have filed my reports, but I know the kitchen people are working twelve or fourteen hours each day.

Still no message from Ferdy. I expected something at Christmas.