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while mopping a green stain from her friend’s back with the other.

Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: “Butch!”

But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.

“Then how is it, Hal,” he asked, “that light comes out of the bubble, if the people don’t? What I mean is, if one of the people walks toward us, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn’t the light coming our way disappear, too?”

“Well⁠—you see, Joggy, it isn’t real light. It’s⁠—”

Once more the interpreter helped him out.

“The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms of one element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It’s more than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of light tends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of the light goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience. But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into the Time Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater, you haven’t realized how dimly lit the scene is. That’s because we’re getting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, no isotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts are being made to synthesize them.”

“Oh, explanations!” murmured one of the newly arrived girls. “The cubs are always angling for them. Apple-polishers!”

“I like this show,” a familiar voice announced serenely. “They cut anybody yet with those choppers?”

Hal looked down beside him. “Butch! How did you manage to get in?”

“I don’t see any blood. Where’s the bodies?”

“But how did you get in⁠—Butcher?”

The Butcher replied airily: “A redheaded man talked to me and said it certainly was sad for a future dictator not to be able to enjoy scenes of carnage in his youth, so I told him I’d been inside the Time Theater and just come out to get a drink of water and go to the eliminator, but then my sprained ankle had got worse⁠—I kind of tried to get up and fell down again⁠—so he picked me up and carried me right through the usher.”

“Butcher, that wasn’t honest,” Hal said a little worriedly. “You tricked him into thinking you were older and his brain waves blanketed yours, going through the usher. I really have heard it’s dangerous for you under-fives to be in here.”

“The way those cubs beg for babying and get it!” one of the girls commented. “Talk about sex favoritism!” She and her companion withdrew to the far end of the cubicle.

The Butcher grinned at them briefly and concentrated his attention on the scene in the Time Bubble.

“Those big dogs⁠—” he began suddenly. “Brute must have smelled ’em.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hal said. “Smells can’t come out of the Time Bubble. Smells haven’t any isotopes and⁠—”

“I don’t care,” the Butcher asserted. “I bet somebody’ll figure out someday how to use the bubble for time traveling.”

“You can’t travel in a point of view,” Hal contradicted, “and that’s all the bubble is. Besides, some scientists think the bubble isn’t real at all, but a⁠—uh⁠—”

“I believe,” the interpreter cut in smoothly, “that you’re thinking of the theory that the Time Bubble operates by hypermemory. Some scientists would have us believe that all memory is time traveling and that the basic location of the bubble is not space-time at all, but ever-present eternity. Some of them go so far as to state that it is only a mental inability that prevents the Time Bubble from being used for time traveling⁠—just as it may be a similar disability that keeps a robot with the same or even more scopeful memories from being a real man or animal.

“It is because of this minority theory that underage individuals and other beings with impulsive mentalities are barred from the Time Theater. But do not be alarmed. Even if the minority theory should prove true⁠—and no evidence for it has ever appeared⁠—there are automatically operating safeguards to protect the audience from any harmful consequences of time traveling (almost certainly impossible, remember) in either direction.”

“Sissies!” was the Butcher’s comment.

“You’re rather young to be here, aren’t you?” the interpreter inquired.

The Butcher folded his arms and scowled.

The interpreter hesitated almost humanly, probably snatching through a quarter-million microtapes. “Well, you wouldn’t have got in unless a qualified adult had certified you as plus-age. Enjoy yourself.”

There was no need for the last injunction. The scene within the bubble had acquired a gripping interest. The shaggy warriors were taking up their swords, gathering about the hooded sorcerer. The hood fell back, revealing a face with hawklike, disturbing eyes that seemed to be looking straight out of the bubble at the future.

“This is getting good,” the Butcher said, squirming toward the edge of his seat.

“Stop being an impulsive mentality,” Hal warned him a little nervously.

“Hah!”

The sorcerer emptied the small bag on the fire and a thick cloud of smoke puffed toward the ceiling of the bubble. A clawlike hand waved wildly. The sorcerer appeared to be expostulating, commanding. The warriors stared uncomprehendingly, which seemed to exasperate the sorcerer.

“That’s right,” the Butcher approved loudly. “Sock it to ’em!”

“Butcher!” Hal admonished.

Suddenly the bubble grew very bright, as if the Sun had just shone forth in the ancient world, though the rain still dripped down.

“A viewing anomaly has occurred,” the interpreter announced. “It may be necessary to collapse the Time Bubble for a short period.”

In a frenzy, his ragged robes twisting like smoke, the sorcerer rushed at one of the warriors, pushing him backward so that in a moment he must cross-section.

“Attaboy!” the Butcher encouraged.

Then the warrior was standing outside the bubble, blinking toward the shadows, rain dripping from his beard and furs.

“Oh, boy!” the Butcher cheered in ecstasy.

“Butcher, you’ve done it!” Hal said, aghast.

“I sure did,” the Butcher agreed blandly, “but that old guy in the bubble helped me. Must take two to work it.”

“Keep your seats!” the interpreter said loudly. “We are energizing the safeguards!”

The warriors inside the bubble stared in stupid astonishment after the one who had disappeared from their view. The sorcerer leaped about,

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