Downtiming the Night Side Page 2

  Over the next half-hour Moosic spent a good deal of time looking at evidence of trips back in time, mostly photographs and small objects. There were already a huge number of more elaborate things—a tape of one of the Lincoln-Douglas debates, several of tavern conversations between Franklin and Jefferson as well as many others of the founding fathers, and others recording personages who’d lived even earlier. The earliest was an eavesdropped argument between an incensed Christopher Columbus and the refitter of the Santa Maria, or so he was assured. He spoke no Spanish, let alone fifteenth-century Aragonese with a thick, equally archaic Italian accent.

  “Funny,” Silverberg commented. “Nobody ever plays Franklin with a New England accent, although he came from Boston, not Philadelphia, and nobody ever gave Jefferson that hill country twang he really has. Had. Whatever. Napoleon had a silly voice and never lost his Corsican accent. If they’d had television back then, he’d never have made it in politics.”

  Moosic just shook his head in wonder, still not quite believing all this. “I find it all impossible to accept. What was was, that’s all. You can’t recapture a moment that’s past.”

  “And so I was raised to believe. As the poor two-dimensional creature in Abbott’s Flatland could not accept depth, so we cannot accept but a single perspective of time. In a way, it’s like motion. We know we’re in motion because of a lot of phenomena and reference points. We move in relation to something else. Yet the Earth is now turning at around twenty-five thousand miles per hour and we can’t feel it. It’s going around the sun at an even greater speed, and we can’t feel or sense that, either. The sun, in turn, is going around the galactic center, and so on. Since all that is around us, including us, is moving at the same speed and in the same way, we cannot sense that motion and speed relative to us. Since we are going forward in time, all of us at the same rate and everything else around, we cannot really relate to time in any way except as the progress of one moment to the next. But it’s all there—the past is forever. We are immortal, Mr. Moosic. We exist forever frozen in our past moments.”

  “But time is… immutable.”

  “Oh, so? Even before we knew that it was not so. Einstein showed it. Time is relative to mass and velocity. The closer you approach the speed of light, the slower your time is relative to the universe. Time also gives way around areas of heavy gravity—suns, to a small extent, and black holes to an enormous extent. No, it’s not the fact that time is malleable that is the stunner. Apply enough power, it seems, and time will finally give. Rather, the shock is that time exists as a continuum, a series of events running in a continous stream from the Big Bang all the way to the future. How far we don’t know—we can’t figure out how to go into the future relative to our own time. It may be possible that far future scientists can go past today, but we cannot. But the past record is there, and it is not merely a record: it’s a reality. Now you understand the need for security.”

  He nodded, stunned. “You could send an army back and have it pop up out of nowhere.”

  “Bah! You’re hopeless! Mr. Moosic, you will never send an army back in time. We need the entire capacity of this power plant, which is capable of supplying the energy needs of roughly ten million people, just to send four people back a century, and the further back you go, the more power is required. To get one human being back to 1445 would require our total output. That and to sustain him there, anyway, for any period of time. Beyond that the energy requirements get so enormous that we’ve estimated that just to send one person back to the first century A.D. would require every single bit of power this nation could generate for three solid weeks.”

  “But for only, say, a week back? Surely—”

  “No, no. It’s impossible. Physics is still physics and natural law is still natural law. Just as nothing is permitted past the speed of light, no one is permitted to coexist at any point in the past where he already exists. It just won’t do it. In fact, it won’t do it within a decade of your birth date. Why we haven’t any idea.”

  He thought about it, trying to accept it at least for argument’s sake. “A decade. Then you could go back and live past the time you were born.”

  “No. Not exactly, that is. You could go back, yes, but by that time you wouldn’t be you anymore. Nature does resist tampering. We made that discovery the first time out. You’re back there, and you don’t fit. Time then makes you fit. It is far easier and more efficient to integrate you into that present you’re now in than it is to change all time. It creates a curious niche for you. It adjusts a very small thing in what we call the time frame so that you were born and raised there. In a way, it’s very handy. Go back to fifteenth-century France and you’ll find yourself thinking in the local language and dialect and generally knowing your way around. Only the massive energy link, a lifeline of sorts, between here and there keeps you from being completely absorbed. Unfortunately, the longer you are there, the more energy is required to sustain you. It’s in some way related to the subject’s age, although we haven’t gotten the exact ratio. It requires more energy to send an older person back than a younger. Someone up to about the age of fifty we can generally sustain back there for the number of time-frame days equal to half his age. How old are you?”

  “Forty-one,” he told the scientist.

  “Yes, so we could safely send you back for a period of twenty days with an adequate safety margin. Over fifty, it accelerates like mad. It’s simply not safe.”

  “What happens, then, if you overstay your welcome? Don’t come back within that margin?”

  “Then the energy required to retrieve you would exceed our capacity. The line would break. You would literally be integrated into that past time as that created person, eventually with no memories or traces that you were not native to that time and place. And if that was, say, 1820, we could not later rescue you. You could not go forward of your own present—1820—and even if there was a way, we would retrieve someone else, not you. Someone, incidentally, invariably minor and unlikely to change any events. We learned our lesson the hard way.”

  “You’ve lost someone, then?”

  He nodded, “An expert in Renaissance history and culture, who was also a valuable agent when he attended East European conferences, which is why he was one of the few scholars we allowed to downtime personally. He was forty-six when he went back the first time, and he stayed two weeks. Later, he needed a follow-up, so we sent him back again—and lost him. The clock, we learned, starts when you arrive the first time, and it does not reset if you return again. He, and we, assumed at the time that he had two weeks a trip. He didn’t. So he’s there now, for all time, a meek, mild Franciscan monk in a monastery in northern Italy, a pudgy little Italian native of the time. To give you a final idea of how absolute absorption is, Dr. Small was also black—in our time.”

  Ron Moosic whistled. “So then how do you get the recordings and pictures?”

  “They tend to have a stronger sense of shape and substance, being inanimate. We’ve discovered that recorders and the like can be retained for almost the safety period. Weapons, on the other hand, tend to be absorbed into period weapons rather quickly. One supposes that a battery-powered recorder has a minimal chance of affecting history, while a new weapon or something else of that sort could do a great deal of damage. Why and how such judgments are made by nature we don’t know at all. Why is the speed of light so absolute even time must bend before it? We don’t know. It just is, that’s all.”

  “Still, the old saw about going back and killing your own father before he met your mother still holds. How can you do that and still exist? And if you didn’t exist, you couldn’t go back.”

  “But you could. We haven’t actually had a test, but this absorption phenomenon seems designed mostly to counter that sort of thing. In theory, you would in fact cease to exist in the present as soon as you committed the deed, which would snap your energy link. You would then become, immediately, this wholly new personality, this created individual. Joe
would become time-frame John, and it would be John, not Joe, who shot the man who would have become Joe’s father. Of course, John would create a ripple that would then wipe out Joe, or so we believe, but the deed would still be done.”

  “It would seem, then, that there’s very little to worry about in all this,” Moosic commented. “The only real risk is to our time traveler, not our present.”

  Silverberg sighed. “That, alas, is not entirely true. The time mechanism itself, for example, is rather bulky, much like a space suit. You don’t need it where you’re going, but you need it to keep you alive until you get there. That can fall into other hands with potentially disastrous results, as you might understand. We can take precautions on that. But for the active period in the time frame, you—the present you—are still in control. During that period, particularly in the early stages of it, you are a walking potential disaster. The fact that it was John, not Joe, who shot Joe’s father does not make Joe’s father any less dead. We haven’t yet tested it because of the dangers and unpredictability, but we suspect that if causality is challenged, in the same way light speed is challenged, then something has to give, and what gives will be time.

  “We suspect, in general, a minimal disruption—if you kill Hitler, someone will arise who is substantially the same and formed by the same sort of hatreds and prejudices. If Joe’s father had sired three children in the present track, those children would still be born—to a different father, but one rather similar to the first. But there are key figures in key places at key times who might be irreplaceable. Would a Second Continental Congress without John Adams ever have declared independence? Would we have won the Battle of Saratoga and gotten French and Spanish allies if Arnold had been killed earlier? What would a contemporary Britain be like without a Churchill, or a U.S. without Roosevelt? That is why the Nobel prizes must be unawarded and this installation protected. I would rather have it melt down than have proof of what we have here leak out.”

  Moosic nodded. “I think I see. So somebody could change things.”

  “We believe so. The best model we have begins with the Big Bang. With all of the rest of creation, a time wave is created as a continuous stream. It might be an anomaly, might be necessary to keep everything else stable, but there it is. Think of it as a thick glob of paint on a sheet of glass. It runs down the glass, when we tilt it, at a slow and steady speed. The edge is where time is now, still running down so long as everything else is expanding, but the paint trail it left is still there. The edge, where we are now, is the sum of that trail. Alter that trail, and you will start a ripple that will run down to catch up with the leading edge. The math is rather esoteric, but the ripple will run at ten times the edge rate primarily because it’s smaller. If it’s a tiny ripple, it may resolve things and die out quickly. A big wave, though—it would change the sum of the world.”

  Moosic had a sudden, uneasy thought. “What about others? Would we even know if, say, the Soviets had a project like this? They’re doing fusion research now.”

  “No, there’s no way of knowing. Of ever knowing. A time war would be the most frightening thing of all. However, it would still be badly limited in several respects. It would require enormous power. It would require a country insane enough or desperate enough to risk its own lot on a new roll of the dice. And it would certainly involve few participants in any event, participants who would be limited to a small amount of time in any frame to accomplish much at all. The Soviets are our opponents. They are not mad, which is why we are all still here. Neither are the current Germans, Japanese, Chinese, or others capable of such a project. It is only the fear that someone else is doing it that keeps us funded at all, so expensive is this operation. We spend a lot of time trying to convince them that there is military potential, when actually there is not. But we don’t know, of course. And so long as NSA’s very budget is classified, we can continue to get the money. You keep us out of unfriendly hands.”

  “I’ll try,” Ron Moosic assured him, shaking his head and feeling far more worried now than when he’d walked in the door. This was a bit much to digest, even after a career in high-tech environments. In a sense, there was more unsettling business going on here than at the Pentagon and Kremlin war rooms. Here, just one well-meaning scientist could obliterate all that was constant in the world. A social experimenter would be even worse.

  “That’s who we fear the most,” Riggs agreed. “The Air Force boys showed it wasn’t impossible to infiltrate here, but it’s pretty near so. On the other hand, how do you really get into a guy’s head when he’s being considered for downtiming?”

  “Downtiming?”

  “That’s what we call it, since you can’t seem to go uptime from here in any way except the way we’re doing it—one second at a time. You see, the big problem is that the boys here are mostly technical types. It’s a crew over at NSA that looks around for candidates for research and approves ’em before they even know about this place. The weed-out’s pretty extensive, but you can go only so far without spilling the beans about the place. Then, of course, they get the full treatment—drugs, lie detectors, you name it. We try as hard as we can to make sure that nobody goes into the chamber if they have even the remotest impulse to do anything but observe.”

  “But nothing’s perfect,” Moosic noted. “Even the sanest of us has sudden impulses and urges. Until that person goes back there, you can’t know for sure.”

  “Yep. And there are ways to beat the system—any system. It’s a constant worry. That’s why we don’t let any professional historians go back at all. After all that, they’re told we have a way of observing and even sometimes recording the past. They give us the targets, and then we send one of our agents back. They have romance in their souls but no stake in the actual work and not enough professional background to know just what wrong button to push. They know, too, that one false move and we can nightside them—cut them off in the past.”

  “But this nightsiding, as you call it, wouldn’t prevent them from doing something. It would only mean they couldn’t profit by it.”

  He nodded. “That’s about it. It’s a chance we have to take.”

  Ron Moosic stared at the man. “Why?”

  Riggs chuckled. “Because, throughout history, you can’t uninvent something. Oh, you can suppress it for a while, but it’s funny that lots of discoveries of the same tiling seem to happen around the same time, whenever the technology of the world will allow it.”

  “The Greeks invented the steam engine but didn’t do anything with it,” the younger man pointed out.

  “That they did—but they invented it in a closed society that kept their discoveries not only from non-Greeks but from the bulk of their own people. Silverberg will go on and on telling you that science is a collective and not really an individual sport these days. Oh, sure, Einstein dreamed up all that stuff on his own—but did he, really? Or did he take a lot of stuff discovered and discussed by a bunch of scientists in a lot of countries and put it all together to see something they missed? What if Einstein didn’t have a way to get that stuff from the others? No mass-produced books, no international postal system, no way to know what all those guys were thinking or finding out? And even if he did—what if all Einstein’s theories were written down on paper and filed away in one spot in just a single hand-written book? Who’d know it to make use of it, except by accident? The Greeks had that kind of problem. Lots of brains working, but nobody telling anybody else. Not like now. This whole project can be traced to a hundred different teams working in half a dozen countries on different stuff. Let just one word leak out that we’re doing this and others can put the same information together through mass communications, computer searches, and stuff like that.

  “With Einstein and the others to build on, almost every one of the major countries in World War II was working on the A-bomb. We just got there first. Now everybody’s got the damned things. A couple of dozen countries so poor they keep their people in starvation still
have computer-guided smart missiles, and everybody and his brother has something in orbit now. The Russians have an accelerator at least up to ours. They’ll eventually get the same results we did, if they haven’t already. So much power and so many people are required for something even this size that eventually there’ll be a leak, others will get on the track, and it’ll be a real mess. We better know all the rules of this thing backwards, forwards, and sideways, or we’re gonna be up shit creek when the time ripple comes along and wipes out you and me and maybe the whole damned Constitution.”

  “Nice thought. I’m not sure I even like the idea that I know it now. Even without this job, it’s going to make sleeping a lot harder.”

  “Tell me about it. The only thing I can tell you is to think of the thing just like the H-bomb and all the other things out there that can cripple or kill us. It’s just another in a long line of threats, just another doomsday weapon. It’s so complicated and so expensive it probably won’t be the one that gets us, anyway.”

  Some comfort, Moosic thought sourly. He wondered how long it would take him to grow as cynical and pessimistic as Riggs, then considered it from the other man’s point of view. Too long, he decided. Riggs had, in fact, the only way of really living with this.

  “I guess you should meet the security staff now,” Riggs suggested. “That’ll give you a picture of the whole layout.”

  Moosic nodded. “I guess we—”

  At that moment the lights went out, then came back on again, and there were shouts, screams, and the sound of muffled explosions. Bells and sirens went off all over the place. Riggs recovered quickly and ran out the door, Moosic at his heels. They made it through a screaming mass to the central area. There were bodies all over the place, and the smell of gas, but the bodies were all office and Marine personnel. Areas of the ceiling were bubbling, smoking masses occasionally dripping ooze onto the floor as they smoldered and gave off foul smells.