Many Dimensions by Charles Williams (my miracle luna book free read .TXT) 📖

Chapter Six

THE PROBLEM OF TIME

 

Sir Giles lay back in a chair and grinned at Professor Palliser.

“Well,” he said, “we’ve spent twenty-four hours on it and here’s the

result.” He read from a paper.

 

“1. It is of no known substance.

 

2. It answers to no re-agents.

 

3. It can be multiplied by division without diminution of the original.

 

4. It can move and cause movement from point to point, without leaving

any consciousness of passage through intervening space.

 

5. It can cause disappearance—possibly in time.”

 

“Certainly in time,” Palliser said, but Sir Giles shook his head.

 

“Only possibly,” he answered, “we don’t know that your bright young

pathological specimen has gone back in time; we only know he isn’t here

and the Stone is. I thought you told a very good story this morning to

that mother of his.”

 

“I don’t like it,” Palliser answered seriously. “It’s all very

disturbing. I suppose the police will be coming here soon. “

 

“I should think certainly,” Sir Giles agreed. “But I heard him say good

night. And there’s no reason why you should murder him—I suppose there

isn’t?-and no way for you to do it. So I can’t see that you’re likely

to be troubled seriously. And anyhow they haven’t got a body nor any

trace of one. Let’s get on with the inquiry.”

 

“I expect you’re right,” the Professor said. “What do you think we

ought to do next?”

 

Sir Giles leaned forward. “If this assistant of yours has moved in

time,” he said, “if he has gone back, wherever he’s gone to, I suppose

he might have gone forward instead?”

 

“I suppose so,” Palliser assented slowly.

 

“Then that seems to be the next thing,” Sir Giles said. “But that I

think we shall have to do ourselves. We can’t run any risk of giving

too much away. And, I don’t see any chance of being permanently lost

there because the future must be the present some time.”

 

“All the same, I shouldn’t go too far at first,” Palliser suggested. “A

quarter of an hour, say.”

 

Sir Giles took a Stone from the table, and was about to speak when

Palliser suddenly went on. “Look here, Tumulty, if it worked that way,

it wouldn’t be a certainty, would it? Supposing I project myself an

hour forward and find I’m sitting in this room—and then suppose I

return to the present and go to my bedroom and have myself locked in

for two hours, say, how can I be doing what I saw myself doing? And the

shorter the time the more chance of proving it wrong. In six days

anything might happen, but in six minutes….

 

Sir Giles brooded. “You probably wouldn’t remember,” he pointed out.

“But I like the idea of your defying the future, Palliser. Try it and

see.”

 

Palliser’s tall lean form quivered with excitement. “It would snap the

chain,” he said. “We should know we weren’t the mere mechanisms of

Fate. We should be free.”

 

“I sometimes think,” Sir Giles answered reflectively, “that I’m the

only real scientist in this whole crawling hotbed of vermin called

England. There isn’t one of all of you that doesn’t cuddle some

fantastic desire in his heart, and snivel over every chance of letting

it out for an hour’s toddle. Do be intelligent, Palliser. How can any

damned happening break the chain of happenings? Why do you want to be

free;’ What good could you do if you were free?”

 

“If a man can defeat the result of all the past,” the Professor said,

“if he can know what is to be and cause that it shall not be-”

 

“O you’re drunk,” said Sir Giles frankly. “You’re drunk with your own

romantic gin-and-bitters. If you’re going to be sitting here in an

hour’s time you’re going to be, even if this bit of prehistoric slime

has to bump you on your crazy noddle and shove you into achair all on

its own. But try it, try it and see.

 

“Well, you try it too,” Palliser said sullenly. “I’m going to keep you

under my eye, Tumulty. None of your kidnapping games for me.”.

 

“You romantics are always so suspicious,” Sir Giles said. “But for once

I don’t mind. Let’s try it together. Where’s the Crown?”

 

Palliser took it out of the old safe in which it had rested all night,

and sat down beside Tumulty. “‘How long do we make it?” he asked. “Half

an hour?”

 

“Good enough,” Sir Giles answered.“You locked the door? Right. Now—where’s the clock? Half-past eleven. Wait. Let me write it on a bit of

paper—so, and put that on the table. What’s the formula?”

 

“To be as we shall be at twelve o’clock, I suppose,” Palliser said, and

the two—Palliser wearing the Crown, Sir Giles clutching the Stone—framed the wish in their minds.

 

“… though I don’t suppose I can tell you anything new,” Palliser

ended, looking at the police inspector.

 

Sir Giles looked round over his shoulder—he was standing by the window—

but he was only half-attending. Had or had not the experiment

succeeded? He couldn’t remember a thing out of the ordinary. He had sat

with Palliser for what seemed a long time—but which the clock had shown

to be only ten minutes, and had been vaguely conscious of a rather sick

feeling somewhere. And then they had looked at one another and Palliser

had abruptly said, “Well?” He had stirred and stood up, looked at the

slip of paper with “11:30” written on it, looked at the clock which

marked twenty to twelve, looked back at Palliser, and said with some

irritation, “God blast the whole damned thing to hell, I don’t know.”

 

“What do you mean?” or something like it, Palliser had asked. The

picture was becoming fainter, but roughly he could still fill it in.

Every minute made all that had happened in that half hour more of a

memory; but had it happened at all or was it memory to begin with? and

was