The Reunion
Jim Sanders drove up the long driveway to his old college friend's house, the autumn leaves crunching under the wheels. He remembered this place as that of Thorstein's Uncle's house, but imagined that Thorstein Heinrich might have inherited it some how. With him was Ted West, who had also received a mysterious invitation to be there today. They had both come up from Boston together, to this isolated country home four miles inland from the coast of Maine.
The two had spent a nice drive getting pleasantly re-acquainted, as their paths had taken them different places over the past 20 years. It had been 1898 when they'd graduated together. Jim had got his Business degree, Ted in History and Thorstein - well, his would have been in Physics, had he not been expelled that last semester. While both Jim and Ted were in Boston, there was little interaction between the world of high finance that Jim travelled in and the less glamorous life of a Professor at Wemsley University that Ted enjoyed.
Jim and Ted had each been successful in their own fields and were now discussing the oddity of having not heard anything about Thorstein. They had each expected large things from him, in spite of his expulsion, and were curious as to where and when he'd finally got his degree. And if he'd got it. But neither brought up that possibility. Jim idly turned the windshield wipers on then off, as the gray skies yielded just enough mist to make that needful now and again, but not enough to leave them on.
Thorstein had always had an odd way about him. He had an intense brooding quality that had drawn both Jim and Ted to him, and the three of them had been inseparable. He had a way of convincing you of a thing with his eyes, and how they gazed right into you when he was pontificating on any given subject. For that moment, and for many past it, you'd feel you knew and understood what he meant.
They arrived at dusk, and parked right outside the front door of the house that now looked far more rundown and gloomy than they had remembered. Old Jeb, the same who they'd known to be the Butler of this house back in their school days, met them. Taking Jim's car keys, he said he would have the car put up in the garage later. For the moment, he was opening the trunk to get their suitcases out, they had brought just one each, as they were only staying Friday and Saturday night. Grabbing both the cases, and shaking his head at offers that they could each take their own, he led them into the house.
A woman met them in the dark and dusty foyer, a young and stunningly beautiful blonde, and smiling, said, "I am Freyja, the niece of Dr. Heinrich. Let Jeb show you to your rooms, then when you've made yourself comfortable, you can join my Uncle and I in the dining room."
After they had each looked about their bedrooms, and laid their suitcases upon the beds, they met in the hall. Jim arched his eyebrows at Ted who guessed the question at once. "Beats me, old man", said Ted. "We never knew the brother, and she could not have even been born back then! And where is the brother now, surely he would have inherited this?"
"Well", said Jim, "I'm sure we will hear all about it soon enough! Shall we?" And with that they went down to the foyer, where a gravely waiting Jeb walked them back to the dining room.
The Odd Dinner
"But you can't, Uncle! It's not right, you know it's not - ", they heard Freyja say in a loud whisper as they approached the dimly lit dining room. Entering, whatever conversation that had been going on cut off, and the glare of anger on Thorstein's face changed quickly to one of delight.
"Come in, come in! My oldest of friends! How delightful to see you again! Come, come, sit! I've took the liberty of pouring some wine for you already, a robust Merlot, 1909!" They were apparently the honored guests, as Old Jeb pulled out chairs for each of them that were directly to the left and right of Thorstein's chair at the head of the table. An additional place was set for Freyja, and to Jim's regret, it was next to Ted.
"What shall we toast to, dear fellow?", asked Ted, to which Thorstein said, "Ordinarily, to the fearless pursuit of scientific truth, wherever it may take one! But for tonight, let us be less grandiose and make it to old friends!"
"Hear, hear!", exclaimed Jim, and the three of them - and belatedly Freyja - all raised their glasses and murmured, "To old friends." Freyja set her glass back down and without a word, left the table. A brief flicker of annoyance passed over Thorstein's face, but he only said, "A delightful young woman, and an able assistant, but given to moods. Women, you know."
Jim and Ted nodded knowingly. Old Jeb came in, carrying three plates expertly, and set one before each of them, the guests first, then Thorstein. Upon each plate was an odd looking sandwich, which by the look of the meat was one of those hamburger steak sandwiches, popular in the big cities. Two of such filets were present, though, between not two but three buns.
Jim and Ted looked at each other, then their host. While ordinarily it would be poor manners to inquire about the food, the sandwiches looked so odd sitting alone on each plate that they were both willing to risk a minor faux pas. Jim said, "I don't understand - is this a new sandwich you wish us to try?"
Thorstein gave an indulgent laugh. "Yes, I do wish you to try it! I believe you will find it enjoyable, and then I will share with you where - so to speak - it came from!"
Jim and Ted looked a little disconcerted, but under the gaze of Thorstein figured that if nothing else, they'd be able to say they'd tried something new. They each picked up the sandwich and tried a bite. Immediately each realized that one had to hold it carefully, it tended to slide apart a bit, but the taste was pleasant enough.
"I'm not familiar with the sauce, old man", said Jim. "But it is good nevertheless." "Quite", said Ted, who was eating his sandwich now at a faster rate than which he had tentatively begun it. Both polished it off fairly quickly, and noted that their host had not as yet touched his, but merely looked on appreciatively at the enjoyment of his friends.
"I had a good deal of trouble with that sauce", Thorstein started enigmatically. "The sauce was supposed to be a secret, but we did have the color of it to give us a hint. It's a sauce called 'Thousand Island', and is at it's most basic a mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise. Some hotels have been serving that sauce for twenty years or so, but I dare say it will become more popular in the future."
He looked like he wanted to giggle when he said that.
"But...but...", stammered Ted, "Surely this is not what you've been about all this time! A new sauce? A novel sandwich? Why back in our university days, everyone - even those who disliked you - knew that you would be about great things! I'm sorry, no offense, surely, but really old chap, really, you are greatly puzzling us!"
Another indulgent laugh. "I know, I know," said Thorstein. "But trust me, I've gone on to as great a thing as you can imagine, and this is just an amusing example! Come! I am sorry for the paucity of the dinner, Old Jeb can get you something more filling later if you like, but for now, please join me in my laboratory!"
The Laboratory
Thorstein's laboratory drew gasps from his friends, as the inside was bigger than the outside. Or so it first appeared, as Thorstein had knocked out the back wall and an enormous mechanical monstrosity was filling it, easily larger than a freight car, all switches and hinges and metal and gears and brass relays and polished oak knobs, giving odd clicks now and then as one rod went up or down and another went left or right.
In front of it were two chairs, with a helmet above each. An easel with a white canvass was near, and a student's desk with a notebook and pencil. The rest of the room was more as they had expected, filled with bookcases and tables with papers scattered about and on one wall a giant chalkboard covered with incomprehensible equations. Yet oddly, there were no books in the bookcases, but only endless stacks of cards.
On one side was even the stereotypical laboratory, a long table with Bunsen burners and flasks and vials and beakers, some bubbling, others smoking. As they walked further in, to get a better look at the machine, they could see a narrow hallway running down the middle of it, which let them see they'd underestimated the size.
A freight train car? More like two dozen freight train cars in a vast square, their friend must have built all the way back upon at least an acre of land. They could see how it towered 24 feet high at least, but another narrow hall to one side of it and stairs made them wonder how deep down this device went.
Ted guessed first. "Great Scott, you've done it, haven't you? This is Babbage's Analytical Engine, isn't it?" Thorstein just beamed. Jim looked annoyed and said, "Well, it's a deuced bother to be the only chap not in on it, what's a Babbage Engine?"
Freyja entered the room in time to hear that question and said, "It's past a mere engine, but is a series of engines, a calculating machine, it can do thinking of a sort, but you must program it to tell you what you need to know. It can do equations and solve problems far faster than a human. And it never gets tired or makes mistakes. A man named Babbage conceived of it in 1837, but had not the funds to build it."
"Good to see you again, my dear", said Jim, "And thanks for the explanation, though it only marginally helps me! Do I understand you've created a mechanical brain?" Thorstein spoke up, "My brother, and then later Freyja, aided me in creating something that you could call that. It cannot think in the sense we do, it has no desires or will of it's own, but you can, with almost as much effort as building it was, get it to answer various questions and handle things that take faster and more sustained mental work than we mere mortals are capable of doing."
Old Jeb came in bearing a tray with four glasses of champagne. Rather than holding out the tray, he held the tray in his left hand and with his right picked up the glasses one at a time giving them to Thorstein and his daughter first, then the two guests. Jim and Ted did not notice that, being enthralled by the great machine clicking away.
Thorstein gave a short but typically intensive speech. His eyes blazed as he went on about how this could usher in a modern era, freeing men from mental drudgery the same way the steam engine had freed men from physical drudgery. As he lifted his glass, Freyja looked grim, but then Ted interrupted with, "But what has this to do with that sandwich?"
Thorstein had a hint of impatience pass over his face, but only smiled the more and said, "All in good time! First, a toast to the world's first analytical machine!" And took a sip which turned into him downing it and tossing the glass in the fire place. Jim and Ted dutifully said, "Hear, hear" and did the same. Freyja touched the glass to her lips briefly, and looked sad.
The Betrayal
When Jim and Ted came to, they found themselves fastened to the two chairs they had observed before. Each of them had a helmet on, attached by frame to the chair and by wires to the gigantic mechanical brain behind them. Freyja and her Uncle were arguing in the far corner. Then Thorstein saw they were awake.
"Now, relax old friends, relax, this is nothing as bad as my lovely niece here seems to think it is, and the restraints are just a precaution!", he said.
"This is preposterous!", sputtered Ted, while Jim asked more calmly, "Really, now, 'old friends' is an odd way of describing those you've just slipped a Mickey to! And a 'precaution' against what? What's this all about?"
"It's about my Uncle perverting my father's machine to his own mad use!", Freyja said loudly and defiantly. "He doesn't care about lifting mental toil off the backs of his fellow man, he wants to rule! And he's using my father's great work to do so!"
"My dear, how you do go on!", said Thorstein imperturbably. "Your father was a great man, and you've a fine mind yourself, but do not pretend I played no part in the perfection of this device. Your father's programming skills - if we may generously describe them as that - were scarcely up to any task beyond star counting, weather patterns and other frivolities!"
Freyja looked like she wanted to say more, but instead simply turned and exited the room in high dudgeon. Thorstein turned his attention to his former friends. "It is a great experiment I am embarked on - we are embarked on! You see, my field had not been analytical machines, but temporal theory, inspired as I was by H.G. Wells remarkable tale of the Time Machine. But the math of my theories made it impossible for any one man, or team of men to resolve, and I had gave up hope till I had my brother explain his work. Then I saw that this was a gift from Providence itself!"
Ted said, "Are you telling us you've made this into a Time Machine? You're mad!" Jim, too, looked skeptical. "You are right to look doubtful.", Thorstein said, "And I'll chalk up your disparaging comment to the nature of the situation you find yourself in. You are correct that a literal Time Machine is quite impossible, Mr. Wells is more a writer than a physicist. But what can be done is as good as if you had one! The analytical engine allows for me to perform the multiple tau-equations needful to make my theory possible! Now hush and behave, and I'll tell you all about it!"
Jim, who had been testing his restraints systematically, and Ted who had been more lunging about looking for weaknesses, both stopped. Jim looked right into his captor's eyes and said, "You killed him didn't you?" and Ted gasped upon realizing the import of Jim's question. "Of course he did", said Ted. "It makes sense now that you've asked it. It well explains the niece's attitude, and how else could he have had the whole estate to himself to make this infernal contraption!"
"Clever", said Thorstein, "Very clever. I see I picked well when I chose you both. And you have been chose, you know. I needed fine minds, not so fine as my own superlative genius, but certainly above that of the common herd. You two have been carefully selected from many I could have lured over here, and your aid will contribute much to the advancement of mankind!"
The Sandwich Explained
Ted and Jim exchanged a look. They were both men of the world in their own ways, and knew that their old colleague had indeed gone mad. Not being in a position to do anything constructive to their release, though, Ted decided to try humor with Thorstein. "I say, I do hate to go on about it, but before you kill us, can you at least tell us what that sandwich had to do with anything?"
"Kill you?", Thorstein chuckled. "How melodramatic you are! I've no intention of killing you, though as with any great experiment, any great foray into the unknown, there are risks! But such separates us from the lower orders, does it not? Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that?"
Jim looked defiant and said, "Almost I would be willing to die, if it meant that my friend Ted's question could be answered. What of that sandwich?"
"Very well", said Thorstein. "You need to know what this is all about, and the story of the sandwich will aid in that. You know, of course, of the higher dimensions than the ones we are customarily familiar with?" Jim snorted and Ted looked angry. "Yes, yes", said Ted, "We read the same childish speculative fiction novels as you, and as educated men, you may assume that besides Wells, we've kept up with the news about this Einstein's theories on the speed of light. Rather derivative of Lorentz and Poincare, but he put it together well enough."
"Quite", said Thorstein dryly. "And no condescension was intended. I chose you both for your minds. As you are aware that time is a dimension like space, and as you seem to have some idea of how particles can act differently as they approach the speed of light, perhaps it will then come as no surprise that not only can particles slow down temporally, but some can - and do - travel backwards in time!"
"No", said Jim, "We had not heard that, or at least I had not. But if most particles move forward in time, I can imagine that some can move backwards, much as I can go forward or backward spatially. What of it?" Ted nodded in agreement. He was certain he'd not understand the deep science, but aware that particles could slow, he could well imagine a full stop, and even a reversal. And for their situation, the details were unimportant.
Thorstein nodded, too, as if to himself. "These faster than light particles do go backwards in time from our perspective, and it had occurred to me that while such would be useless in moving physical objects, they could perhaps transmit information. That is, one could receive information about the future!"
Jim and Ted looked at each other in dismay. Neither had their degree in the sciences, but both had took science classes, and were men of learning. Ted spoke up. "But what information could random particles give you, even supposing you could detect them? Wouldn't that need someone at the other end to manipulate them some way to transmit information, the same way Marconi must give pattern to his Radio-waves?"
"Yes!", exclaimed Thorstein. "That was the problem. But remember, our ordinary particles can be sped up, and if so, then while a great deal of time passes in the world, little of such passes for that which is sped up. Knowing that it would take more power than our entire civilization could manage to send a man into the future, I realized that it would take comparatively little power to send his electro-neuronic net - his mind, as it were - to the future! He then could observe and give pattern to such particles as flowed back!"
"But...understanding how little power would be needed, what is the person's mind doing in the future? Floating about? How can it perceive anything?", asked Jim. "Excellent question", said Thorstein. "The mind of the subject in our present is sent to rest upon the brain of a descendant of his in the future. The analytical machine aids in finding such that 'resonate', so to speak. Such are generally compatible. Not so much as to allow the mind from our time to control the future body, though I'm working on that, but enough to make use of the senses. Everything the future descendant sees and hears the mind sent to it will, too. Then, that mind - that disembodied electro-neuronic 'net' - can ride the faster than light particle flow back to our time, and land comfortably back in it's own brain!"
Ted said, "You speak as if you know this for sure. Is this where that sandwich comes in?" "Yes", said Thorstein. "I sent Old Jeb first. He was sent 100 years into the future, all the way to 2018, and he stayed for twelve minutes. He found himself in a luxurious diner, brightly lit and clean and with a vast menu of sandwiches to choose from, though at fantastically expensive prices. His descendant must be a man of immense wealth and status, for he ordered a meal that cost $4.79! That got his descendant a sandwich, some fried potato wedges cut very slender, and a Coca-Cola, though without the usual euphoria and energy that drinking such gives us. Food must be scarce in that day and age, perhaps over-population has done that. From Old Jeb's questioning of the brain he was in, which responded sometimes to his inquiries, he learned that there were close to seven billion people on the planet!"
The Mission
Unbidden, Old Jeb had returned to the laboratory, and had listened to all this. He nodded in assent, and at that point, Jim and Ted realized that however mad Thorstein might well be, he really had managed to do what he was claiming. But both were still bothered. For if this worked so well, where would the need be to Shanghai subjects for this test?
Thorstein said, "The sandwich was duplicated by Old Jeb, in consultation with me. He could duplicate the two all beef 'patties', and the lettuce, cheese, pickles and onions, all on a sesame seed bun, but what was the special sauce? With the color we narrowed it down, I had tried this 'Thousand Island' before, and when I brought him some, he said it was a match. You have both thus ate the food of the future!"
He paused and regarded them curiously. He looked at Old Jeb. He looked back at them. "You're not with me, are you?", he mused. "You feel there's a catch. This is the burden of the genius, never to be understood, always to have to blaze the trail where lesser minds dare not go, till kicking and screaming they are dragged up to his level! Nietzsche was right, it seems, though that should hardly surprise me!"
Jim said in scorn, "Oh, I don't know if we're so far behind you. But we do notice that you have gone to a spot of bother to rope us into an experiment that you, Overman though you may be, decline to embark upon yourself. And if you'll forgive us, we cannot help but wonder what terrors cause you to behave in so ungentlemanly a fashion!"
Thorstein laughed. A rich and hearty laugh that went on a tad too long for the comfort of Jim and Ted. Then recovering he said, "Oh, you two have indeed read all the speculative fiction that litters our literary landscape in our decadent times! This is where I'm to be sending two fools to go where I fear to tread? Hardly. Admittedly I sent Old Jeb here first as a test, much as a General will send a Private to scout the terrain ahead. But as you can see, he made it back with no harm."
"Why don't you go yourself, then?" inquired Ted, contempt lacing his voice. Thorstein leveled his gaze on him and said, "Because while it may not be so certain a death as an attempt to reach the South Pole, it still has some risks, surely. And if I died, who would be qualified to carry on my work? Nonetheless, Old Jeb, his loyalty notwithstanding, is ill equipped intellectually for the type of observations I need. I need to know more of this future time, I need minds capable of understanding it, and then when they teach me of it, perhaps I can go further in perfecting this art. Perhaps more arts than sandwich making can be brought back to our time! The day may come that I go myself, but I will not go blindly, thus risking this entire enterprise!"
"Very well", said Jim, "Though I do think this smacks of the White Feather. When are you sending us, how long will we be there - er, then - and what of when we are done?"
Ted interjected, "Hold on, Jim, are you saying we should agree to this mad scheme?" To which Jim replied, "Seems we've little choice. So stiff upper lip and all that. We were blessedly too old for the Great War, but we've both - I'm sure - wondered if we'd have had what it took had we been called. Now, though I do not relish it, we'll get to see!"
Ted nodded thoughtfully. "If you put it like that. And in any case, it does not seem like we are blessed with an overabundance of choice in the matter! Very well! Let's get on with it!"
"Quite", said Thorstein. "You'll be sent up to 2018, you will each spend a week riding on the brain of one of your descendants. If you mentally ask yourself a question, you may find that your host answers it, thinking the question is it's own. Then you will be brought back, and find yourself back in your bodies. Only a few hours will have passed here, and you should both return within an hour of each other, if not almost the same time. With the knowledge you'll gain, we can go from there!"
"Wait!", cried out Freyja, who had been listening right outside the door, but who now came back in with the emotions of anger and fear distorting her otherwise lovely face. "You must warn them! It is monstrous not to make them aware of the dangers!"
Thorstein took a deep breath, and seemed to calm himself by main force. He walked over to a rather large switch, and turned his gaze upon both soon to be temponauts. "I didn't want to worry you needlessly, but to put an end to her continual attempts to discredit me in your eyes, I will share what she is speaking of. I can calibrate it so that you'll end up in a descendant of yours of an age old enough to be useful, that is between 21 and 55. But I cannot guarantee the gender or anything else. You could find yourself in a prison, if your descendant is. Or in a life or death situation. And anything you see they are about to do, you'll have really no control of, whether it be a crime, a dangerous act, or even, conceivably, marital relations. And while it is unlikely to happen, death of the host may mean your electro-neuronic net does not make it back. I've not tested this machine yet enough to know how reliable it will prove to be."
And with that he threw the switch.
Ted's Return
Ted came to, and was disoriented to find himself back in Thorstein's laboratory. At once he found himself led, almost hauled, to the student's desk. "If there is any formula or such you need to write down, write it down at once while it's still fresh!", said Thorstein. But Ted only shook his head once, as if to clear it, then lunged towards his captor.
He was instantly seized by Old Jeb, who for all his age was still stronger than Ted in his currently weakened state. Jeb put him back at the student's desk and expertly roped him to it. "Now, now", said Thorstein soothingly. "You need a spot of time to get full control of your body back, the same applied to Jeb. But come, tell me how it went, you've enough energy for that!"
"My descendant was a spoiled heiress", Ted said, "the daughter of my granddaughter who had apparently married wealth. When I arrived, a rather rough looking young cad was having those 'marital relations' you referred to, but without there having been any marriage! Apparently morality has gone out of style there, and the whole of the nation ruts as it pleases, marriages are scarce, often among deviants, and the divorce rate is sky-high! Having endured that, I then spent a week of uselessness as she attended parties and dinners and clubs and plays - all completely debauched and hedonistic! No real culture left, even the songs were cacophonies of filth and violence, and a device called a flat screen displayed stories that would have any of us thrown into prison for violations of the Comstock Act!"
Thorstein had been listening attentively. When the silence stretched he said, "But surely you asked some questions, learned some useful data! Cultures change, surely, or perhaps this was only the habits of the wealthy, who even in our time are none too consistent about what the masses think of as proper?"
"Ask questions?", said Ted in exasperation. "I did nothing but ask questions! And it's worse than you think! Everyone, including her, was well educated, beyond belief, for all that they are fools! The society of the future has remarkable regimentation, everyone carries an identification card and must present it on demand to the least uniformed thug upon any or no pretext! You cannot travel without showing that identification card, even in a personal automobile one must carry it! They've great ocean spanning passenger planes and trains that go faster than our planes do now, but one must present that identification to board. To work, and thus to eat, or to gain access to almost any service, the card must be shown."
"But to balance that", Ted continued, "They are permitted to engage in the most torrid of vices - any kind of sex, and not just the deviancy of two men, but two women, or three or four, or fetishes and miscegenation that Navy veterans I've met in our time would blush at! And drugs! Theoretically illegal, but the rich can have doctors prescribe them, and the lower classes can usually get less pure versions without too great a trouble! Christianity as we know it is virtually dead, such as remains is either watered down to nothingness or ignorant beyond belief, and each is the tool of one or the other of the two dominant political parties!"
Thorstein shook his head. "What you are describing is anarchy, such a culture could not indulge in so much and be as regimented as you say! What, does the Army occupy each town to keep order?"
Ted said, "In a way. And in such a devious way. The town constables we have, the friendly Sheriff's deputies, the beat cop, have all been replaced by what even they call a 'militarized police'. Such sweep through the poorer areas and the colored sectors in packs, and even if there is only one, they have radionic devices that let them summon a squadron of reinforcements at need. On a recreational site called 'youtube', on a 'computer' that makes your analytical machine look like a child's toy, they show movies, but with sound and in color, of these domestic troops killing coloreds and the poor with little or no cause, and even the middle classes can be imprisoned or killed at will! Only the very wealthy have limited immunity, due to the profession of lawyers having grown immensely, all employed to put the fix in for any man of means or his corporation to evade the trouble bestowed upon the masses."
Thorstein looked puzzled. "But you said your descendant was upper class! How could she know of such things?"
"They all know", said Ted. "They don't have newspapers any more, not really, but all the news of anything at all is radioed to their homes to their personal computers that are small enough to fit on their laps! But so few seem to care about the atrocities that daily are displayed to them. She particularly knew, not for her viewing such often, but for her habit of slumming which led her to be even so low as to...to..."
"Well, go on, man, what?" exclaimed Thorstein.
"Led to her hanging out with negroes! They putatively have full equality then, and are oppressed more for their poverty than their color. But she would go not just to the clubs where some were as welcome as whites, but would seek out places where they were the majority. She danced with them, drank and drugged with them, and yes...curse you!...slept with them!"
Thorstein looked dumbfounded. The idea of miscegenation with what he regarded as the lesser breeds made him ill. "But you were only gone a week! What do you mean 'them'? How many could it have been in seven days?"
Ted laughed bitterly. "You aren't understanding my words! There is no morality left! Admittedly she was more libertine than average, her wealth and status granted her greater opportunities for indulging, but having 'one night stands' as they call them was an acceptable practice! A poor white trash nobody that first time, the Mexican gardener the next time, a negro, and lastly an upper class white man of at least 60, who promised her a vacation to some tropical island - my own descendant! A whore!"
Ted hung his head. Thorstein looked frustrated. "What a terrible mongrel dystopia! But did you find nothing of worth? No invention, no discovery we could make use of?"
Ted's Warning
"Leave this nation now.", Ted said. "Your descendants will thank you. A great wall was being erected, that the credulous masses thought would keep the slave classes they have out, but that any fool could see would be for keeping them in. No business venture can take place without the government's permission, the IRS - you know that agency for taxing just the wealthiest? They tax every man, woman and even a child, if he works. Any job, any income level, and one must write out a confession of every aspect of your productive life and be imprisoned if you lie about it! City, County, State and Federal governments must be applied to and permission received from to do anything from a child's lemonade stand to the largest world spanning corporations! And children - the children belong to the State now, you pay to raise them, but they can be took from you if you do not raise them as the State sees fit! Without you having been convicted of any crime!"
"And", Ted continued, "You can be searched at whim during 'public safety check points', you must partially or fully undress before boarding planes, they even have machines that can see you at night, or see you nude though you wear thick layers of clothing!"
"What slave classes?", asked Thorstein, unerringly picking out the one bit of data in that screed that sounded of prime concern. "You said the coloreds were equals then, even sleeping with white women! So who was left to be a slave?"
Ted laughed. "Yes, the coloreds are 'equal' now, not by being given more rights, but by the State taking away the rights of all but the wealthiest of elites, who while many are white, I suspect more than a few are Jews! Now even a white householder, a solid citizen by any standards, must kowtow to their system! But it is a gilded cage they are kept in, a lazier group you will never see than these 21st century Americans! They apparently demanded such exorbitant wages for themselves in the 20th century that the powers that be found it easier to construct ever more elaborate machines to do the work instead, and for such as could not be easily done by their technological marvels, they have made it 'illegal' for workers to come from poorer nations to offer their services."
"How does that make slaves?", asked Thorstein, honestly curious. "Because", Ted said, "These Mexicans and other nationalities are all in America against the law, and so must work for whatever paltry wages are offered, with no legal protections in case they are injured or killed! And besides that foreign slave class, that number in the tens of millions, they also incarcerate a vast percent of their own citizens! More than any nation on Earth, more than the Russias or the Chinese! Mainly the coloreds, of course, but millions and millions of the poor and middle class whites, too! Then they either slave away in prison, or when released, have so few rights and opportunities as to be forced to take the dirtiest and most dangerous jobs, often 'under the table' - off the books - where they are treated almost as poorly as the foreign 'illegals'!"
"Employers", continued Ted, "Must check the identification of any applicant, and their own analytical machines keep track of the entirety of each citizen's life, so that any mistake or crime they ever committed is up for review from anyone! Ask how easy it is for a man to reform himself in that system! Slaves, I said, and slaves such are!"
"An interesting way of constructing a slave class.", Thorstein mused. "Even admirable, save that they've apparently enslaved their own less fortunate white brothers! But come, let us have the good news. You spoke of machines doing the work of men, what of those? What technological wonders can we make use of, in spite of their moral and political deficiencies? I sent you, after all, so that I could have more than a sandwich to show for all this!"
Ted hiccoughed, and gave a choking sound between a laugh and a sob. "There is nothing to tell you! Nothing! You sent me too far, though from what I gather, even fifty years would have been too far! Could you explain your analytical machine to a man of letters from 1818? How much less can I describe their wonders! Not that most of it is not for war!"
"War?", Thorstein asked. "Surely that is behind us by then?"
Now Ted was unmistakably laughing, almost cackling. "Behind us? Behind us? It is perpetual war, it was a century of war from our time on! It is Pax Americana at that moment, but from what I gather, the heathen Chinese are making a real play at overcoming American dominance! Hundreds of thousands of young men will be dying in our next 100 years, as we fight in Europe and Central America and Southeast Asia and the Middle East and Africa! 25% of all government expenditures go to maintaining a military machine so vast that the next 25 most advanced nations combined - including the former British Empire - do not match us! We've bases and forts and outposts in three quarters of the nations on Earth, and rule the skies with planes that fly themselves and that can bomb whole cities with but a single 'atomic bomb' or with precision beyond belief destroy a single mud hut in an otherwise peaceful village! Not that they don't go for the overkill, and take out an entire neighborhood seven thousand miles away to get but one man killed without trial! 'Shock and awe' they call it, and torture and brutality are legalized and institutionalized!"
"But...but...", Thorstein stammered, "You must have seen something of use? What of these computers, how do they differ from mine? Even a hint of how they work could be of help!"
"Nothing will be of help", said Ted, and seemed pleased to say that. "Their computers are not mechanical, but electronical. The first electro-mechanical computer could do an equation in six seconds, but their latest would need scarcely a billionth of a second! They started using electricity and vacuum tubes and later something called a transistor, and still later a 'microchip'. What those are, who can say? They did not leave drawings or plans for such laying about, any more than a house in our time has the blueprints for a steam engine!"
Thorstein was silent for a long time. Old Jeb, silent all the while, stirred a bit restlessly. Finally Thorstein said, "I think I see the problem. The fault was mine. Your specialty is history, and naturally you focused on the social aspects of things. Jim's return should prove more profitable, he is a businessman, and not so soft hearted - and perhaps even soft-headed - as you appear to be."
Ted said, "The lesser races breed with impunity, their women are even paid to do so out of wedlock! They are overrunning our nation, and together with the mongrel workers imported will outnumber we white Americans by 2050! Focus on that!"
Thorstein was silent again, but then said, "Perhaps 'soft-headed' was uncalled for, I agree with your concern about this racial pollution. Certainly your insights as to this future dystopia will be of some aid, if nothing else for navigating about in that terrifying future time. So I thank you for that."
Just then Jim's unconscious body gave a shudder, and Thorstein abandoned Ted to attend to him.
Jim's Return
Old Jeb put Jim in the chair that he'd just removed Ted from. Ted was now sitting on a stool fifteen feet away, his hands tied. Jim came awake tied to the chair part of the student's desk. Jeb went over to where Ted was, but watched attentively as Thorstein started to talk to Jim.
"If there is any formula or such you need to write down, write it down at once while it's still fresh!", said Thorstein.
Jim looked up at him and said, "Don't worry, I'll remember all you need to know." He looked happy. Thorstein regarded him gravely. "I take it then", he said, "that you had a better trip then Ted had?"
Jim said, "I don't know what kind of trip Ted had, but mine was wonderful! My descendant was a mulatto man of 26, apparently my grandson had fallen in love with a colored woman, and as apparently nothing of my fortune was left they live in poverty, as does the great grandson host I landed in!"
"And yet you are happy?", Thorstein asked doubtfully.
"Different times, different customs, they were all at least happy, which more than most people I know can say! And I expect from what I learned that my fortune will be a bit more intact for posterity now!", said Jim, "But my real happiness comes from what a wondrous future it is, when the least of the least - my own descendant - still commands more resources than some of my own fellow barons of industry do in our time! It is a utopia you sent me to, of abundance and prosperity such that you cannot imagine!"
"But you said your descendant was poor?", asked Thorstein.
"Poor? He was out of work, having been laid off from a factory he'd worked at for a couple of years. But it took me a day to realize he was poor, I first mistook him for the idle rich! He lived in what was called a 'double wide trailer', but we would in our present time think of it as a house, though larger than such as are normal for workingmen. It was fully electrified, the inventions of Westinghouse apparently existing in every home in America! Not only was there plumbing, but hot water, and at the turn of a knob for the kitchen sink, bathroom sink and shower! And mark this - hot water in the sink in the second bathroom, the one for the exclusive use of the master of the house! One bathroom for guests and one private bathroom for himself, in the same dwelling place, and apparently all the other dwellings!"
"And that was only the start!", continued Jim. "He had a device he kept in his pocket, and never was this marvel more than three feet from him at any time, morning, noon or night! It was like our telephony systems, but wireless! With it he could call and receive calls from anyone on Earth! Or write mail to anyone! But it was also a camera, and it could take moving shots, like our movies! And your analytical machine? It was one of those, too! It could do math and solve problems and he could query - for free - a vast computing network, the 'internet', and ask it anything, and receive an answer at once! All the knowledge of mankind was available to him! Besides every song and play and movie ever made! He could listen or watch it anytime he cared to!"
Thorstein said, "Was he a criminal, then? To have such luxury without a job?"
"No!", said Jim. "And you've still not heard the half of it! He had a thing called a 'flat screen', one for the living room and another for his bedroom. Giant enormous screens that he could also watch movies and plays on! And the clarity, the color, it was like having the performers in your room! But such scenes they showed, of every exotic place on Earth, any where he could care to see, and other worlds besides! They have sent ships propelled by burning oxygen and other chemicals to planets and moons throughout our Solar System! Men have landed on the moon! A mechanical being scouts Mars for them and reports back, and follows their instructions! A ninth planet, unknown to us, has been discovered - and pictures took of it close up! All this he could see by aiming another little device at the screen and commanding it forth!"
"Well then, what paid for all of it?", demanded Thorstein impatiently.
"Unemployment Insurance", said Jim, "That the State makes all men have. Each hour they work, a portion of their pay is took out for them, and another portion is took out from their employer's profits, and if they should lose their work through no fault of their own, they get a modest stipend to get by on till they can find other work! Imagine a society where hunger and want do not stalk the able bodied, where they can take the time to find the right job where their skills will gain the most compensation! And they've also a medical insurance, from the State, and it means that you see no cripples or blind or maimed begging on their streets! Each are treated by their advanced medical arts, and cared for in fully electrified apartments if they cannot be healed!"
"What of their medical arts", asked Thorstein, "Did you learn of any of them?"
"Alas, no", Jim related, "I fear that their marvels are for the most part so advanced that there is no one thing I could tell you the inner workings of. They use analytical machines far more advanced then yours and detection instruments that can see inside a man to diagnose illness and injury far better than we can. They have 'antibiotics' and medicines that can cure all manner of diseases and infections. It is a clean and healthy world, even for the lowest of classes!"
"And their classes", Jim said, "are all integrated. Men and women, white and colored, all can live and work and shop and eat together, all in peace, all available for any job that they might have the skills for - you realize what it means to the nation's industrial potential to be able to draw upon 100% of the work force instead of the small percent that might be specifically white and male?"
Jim's Ideas
"What then was it that you were to have no trouble letting me know? That you were sure you'd not need to write down?", asked Thorstein.
"Oh, all that.", said Jim, "Well, old chap, it's like this, we never did get around to discussing what would be done with Ted and I after we did your little experiment. But I've had a week of going about as that descendent of mine to ponder what could be done."
"And what did you conclude?", Thorstein inquired with some nervousness.
"You and I - and Ted, too - are going into business!", Jim declared.
"What?!", exclaimed Thorstein and Ted at the same time.
"Oh, come now", said Jim, "Is it so strange? Surely we can put this incident behind us, given how amazing the possibilities and opportunities are for all three of us! And it's not like it won't be easier, and more lucrative, for each of us if we work together! Come, come, I have the finances, Thorstein has the machine, and you Ted, you've a brain and a heart that can steady us, and besides are 'in on it', so to speak! Who else would we want to trust with this history making opportunity?"
"I saw little from there I'd care to have here and now", started Ted. But Jim effortlessly overrode him with, "Really? I admit that I was distressed that the technology was too far advanced to get any sense of any explanation of it. But the data of what is coming, the business trends, the knowledge of upcoming wars, the ideas on how to do things - that sandwich was part of a larger trend, a 'fast food' idea not due to be started till the twenties, and not due to take off till the forties. But we could do that now, the three of us, if we cared to!"
"Or what of those marvelous shipping containers?", continued Jim. "Someone had the idea of using freight train box cars as the new standard unit of carrying things, all over Earth, and cut the costs of shipping world wide by 66%! Do you have any idea the millions - even billions - waiting for us with just that idea? I could go on - their insights into specialization, standardization, could keep us busy for years! And this 'rocketry' and 'atomics' - I can't duplicate those, but I could give the idea to the right people, the right investors, the right professors!"
Ted looked upset. "If any effort is to be spent, why not spend our efforts to prevent the coming wars and injustices that we all know of? And to prevent the legalization of miscegenation and homosexuality?"
Jim shook his head. "Impractical!", said Jim dismissively. "Besides, did you notice that the businesses there that had women and coloreds worked as well? That tells me we could hire such, and since they're cheaper, and work as well, we could all make a profit, including them!" But at seeing his friend about to flare up, Jim soothed, "Wait, Ted, wait! If you really want to change things, how would you do that? A Letter to the Editor? No! Of course not! You must aid us in developing some of these ideas, because only with wealth and influence can you have any hope of stopping anything! I mean, I understand some of your concerns, but you know that the poor never have any voice!"
Ted looked thoughtful. He didn't want to oppose his friend. And he did want to live. But the future! How could he let that come to be?
Freyja's Interruption
Freyja came in with a small pistol and walked up to Old Jeb. Calmly, and without a word, she shot him once in the face, blowing the back of his head off, and then turned to face her Uncle. "That was for how he aided you in getting rid of my father." Then shooting her Uncle, she stood over his lifeless body and said, "And that was for you having murdered him!"
"Great Scott!", said Ted, "That's torn it!" Jim looked from Freyja to Ted and asked, "Why?" Ted said, "Because she just shot the only one who knows how to use it! Ethical dilemma resolved!"
"Not quite", said Freyja. "I know how to use it. And I heard your discussion with my late and unlamented Uncle." Ted looked dismayed, but Jim looked hopeful. "Look", Jim started, "Your uncle was mad, no doubt, but the machine is neither good or bad, but what we three make of it!"
"Of that I am very sure.", said Freyja. "But I am far less sure about either of you two. Jim, what do you really want to do with it?"
Jim took a breath, knowing that it was desperately important that he persuade this young woman. "I only advocate that we bring back such ideas and data that can help set us up so that we're in a position to advance our nation! We can do a great deal of good with this, and it is almost our moral responsibility to do so! To fail to do good, when we've the ability to would be akin to doing bad!"
"You are as smooth a talker as my Uncle was, and I do not believe a word of it. I am very much afraid that I shall have to kill you, as no promise you give to me would convince me that you would not try to set up a 'fast food' empire as soon as you leave here!"
"Wait!", yelled Ted, "You cannot simply murder a man for what he might do, that would have you no better than your uncle!" Freyja looked terribly sad, but at the same time, resolved. "I know", she said, "But I cannot just let an entire world be swerved off into some unknown course! However bad you thought it was, could it not be made worse for our meddling?"
"But", Jim pleaded, "Why must you assume it would be worse?" "Because", said Freyja, "There is only one right answer to 'what is two plus two', but an infinity of wrong answers! Thus the odds are that your meddling would do harm, not good! Not any good but for yourself, perhaps, and I still suspect that is all you are truly concerned with!"
Ted said, "There is another solution besides murder." Both looked at him at once. He continued, "Send Jim back. He seemed to enjoy it, and he can live out his life there in the lower class luxury he found so pleasant." Jim started to argue, but Freyja cut him off with a wave of her pistol. "I like that. And that's how it will be. The future, or death."
Jim, still pleading his case, sat down in the chair while she placed the helmet on him, while never taking the pistol off of him for a moment. She checked some dials, and threw the switch. A hum, and Jim slumped in the chair, his mind gone. Without any change in expression, she took the helmet off of him and shot him once in the head.
"There", she said, "With nothing to return to, his mind will stay in his descendant's body. It is kinder, I hope, then a certain death."
The Final Solution
She turned to Ted. "Your turn. I'm sorry, but when you've time to reflect, you'll have some of the same ideas he had. It will be irresistible to you, you'll have to try at least one. And I cannot have that."
Ted smiled a bit. At her puzzled look he said, "Don't you mean 'our turn'? Or are you imagining yourself to be cut from a finer cloth than the rest of mankind? I'm afraid you were rather too convincing, I fully agree that this is not something mankind is ready for yet. Mankind may never be ready for it! I'm of the opinion that in this case, there are some things mankind is better not knowing! Neither this machine, or the terrible future that awaits it!"
Freyja nodded. "I understand. I can set the machine to run various problems at maximum speed, this will tend to overheat it. With no one to correct it, it will overheat, melt in a large part, and finally the boilers will explode, rendering it too shattered to rebuild! His notes and plans are in the wooden desk by the machine, they'll burn up in the explosion. Now we must decide, do we die in the explosion, or do we also escape to the future?"
Ted grimaced. Then he looked like inspiration struck. "Must we set it for 100 years? Why not 150 years, so at least my great granddaughter's animal lusts will be satiated by then! True, I'd only have ten or so years left, but better that than...." He shuddered. "We can do better than that!", Freyja said. "I can set this to 1,500 years, and with the rate of technological advance you and your friend described we will truly have a utopia!"
Ted agreed, hopeful that the future of the white race would be better by then, that his race would have rebelled over their freedoms and dignity being stolen by the State. She made the preparations, and they sat down in each chair, helmets on, each of their hands together on the same switch. "Perhaps my descendant will run into yours!", said Ted, "Or perhaps we can find a way to insert suggestions into the minds of our distant offspring! But even if we may each only observe, it will be better than death now!"
"Agreed!", Freyja said, and with that they each pushed down on the switch. The machine hummed, and Ted slumped down in his chair. Freyja, who had made sure her helmet was not fully connected, got up, shot him in the head, then went about making sure everything was as she needed it to be. It was. She sat down, without the helmet on, put the gun in her mouth and blew her own head off.
Twenty two minutes later, the great analytical machine clicking away madly and sparking and melting, the numerous boilers blew up, and the explosion broke windows even in the little hamlet on the coast.
Back to the Future
Lal gasped awake. Her sister-wife Rani said, "Easy there, you're back! You're safe and sound now, back in good old 3918!" They each chuckled at the obscure reference. Lal said, "Oh, Rani, shooting you in the face was so hard, it did not hurt, did it?" Rani said, "No, dear, I was relieved to be out Jeb's body, wracked as it was by more aches and pains then that old reprobate was showing! But what of you? When you had your host Freyja blow her head off, did you feel any pain?"
"No", said Lal, "I don't even have a conscious memory of the gun going off! I am glad that our techniques let us control the host, those evil barbarians had not yet got to that point with their primitive analytical machine! But what of Jim?"
"He arrived. It was clever of you to make sure we had a blank clone of his latest descendant so that he could be in a host that he'd have full control of! He's in orientation right now, but still in a bit of shock. As was I, when Ted never arrived to animate the clone of his descendant we had ready!"
Lal shook her head. "No, he was not who we would have wanted here. He thought Jim was evil for wanting to be rich, but was himself full of disgustingly primitive thoughts on race and love. Jim can adjust to our society, his energy will be a valued addition, and his avarice is no more than is normal to any healthy and vibrant man. He thought I was sending him to 2018, and would have no control over anything, but was still content, so it was a pleasure to reward him with his own body in our time!"
"Any ripple potential from those we had to kill?", asked Rani. "No", said Lal, "I ducked away a couple of times to check on things by their primitive telephone device. I confirmed that our volunteer exile team did make it to Boston, and will control those who would most miss Ted and Jim. The offspring of each will be provided for such that their lives do not take too great a divergent path from the norm as to matter, and as for Thorstein, Jeb and Freyja, those three had in actuality conspired to kill the original inventor - Freyja's father - and had no other social or familial ties. They won't be missed."
"All three were evil?", asked Rani with some doubt. "No, not evil as such", replied Lal. "Thorstein was, why he went mad we may never know, but he then used his charisma to convince the servant and the daughter of his diabolical plans. But they did each go along with him, so..."
"A daughter who would aid in covering up the murder of her father! I understand your actions.", said Rani, "But what was Ted's evil that you simply let him die?" "Oh, no, I did not just let him die!", said Lal. "His sins were not death worthy, he was simply too primitive to be permitted to pollute our society! I sent him back to 2018, where he can experience the antics of his rather promiscuous great-granddaughter for the next half century!"
Epilogue
The mind that had inhabited Thorstein's body without Lal and Rani knowing it was from a further future than theirs. He knew how to control hosts, too. But he was not immune to accidents. His uptime self had died in a minor Time War battle, leaving his mind trapped in Thorstein's. The bullet did not kill him, only his host, so now his mind was spiraling back and forth in time, looking for an ancestor or collateral ancestor, any vague relation that it could latch on to and use to further it's Holy Crusade.
1918, 2005, 1894, 1977, 1738, 2113, 1889...a small baby, mind unformed as yet, easier to control...he would have to lay dormant, but one day, one year, he would succeed, and then he could go back!
Back to a future! A future of his making, his vision, his doing!
Alois paced outside the room. Soon the midwife came out and said, "Congratulations, Herr Hitler, it is a fine baby boy you've got! Klara is fine, and you can see them both now!"
Going in, he picked up his new born son and looked him over. Such eyes, he thought! They gaze right into you!
