"You know my daughter?" asked Calvin Blaine in surprise. He called out, and Laurie came into view. "He knows you," said Calvin.
"Who is he. Is he Lester Ackerman?"
Ackerman put hands on hips and stared. "I am Les Ackerman," he said; "and this is beyond me."
"It is beyond me, too," said Calvin. "However, the destruction of my world is not a pleasant contemplation, Ackerman."
"I know; I've seen it."
"You have?"
"Yes," said Ackerman. "You showed it to me."
"No such thing," replied Laurie. "But we will, if you like."
Ackerman began to catch on. "You may, eventually," he said with a cryptic grin. "But tell me, how is my sending them back into their own world going to be instrumental in destroying yours?"
"Theirs is the world of free research," said Blaine. "Up to now, they know little of the true state of affairs, but once they return with the information, there will be trouble."
"I gather that if I'd kept them here, the initial knowledge would never reach that world?"
"You aren't properly acquainted with the chronological factors involved with the conservation of matter and energy," said Blaine. "When you sent them back, you sent them back to the precise instant of their leaving. In that way and in that way alone can the 'Real Time' constancy be preserved. This 'time-space' state is unreal, and therefore most anything can happen here. But they will return complete with all the knowledge they need to start the destruction of my world."
"Then," said Ackerman, "I shall stop them."
"You have 'time'," said Blaine. "But first, tell me how you happen to know of us."
Ackerman explained his actions up to the point of his meeting with Tansie. At that point, both Blaines exploded: "Tansie Lee!"
"Know her?" asked Ackerman quietly.
"She is a rather headstrong woman," said Blaine. "Full of a rather pale, idealistic plan to save both worlds with danger to none."
Laurie eyed Ackerman with interest. "You know her?"
Ackerman nodded glumly.
"Interesting," replied Laurie. "Imagine a real man who knows Tansie Lee without becoming captivated by her rather lush charm."
"I don't go in for running around with married women," said Ackerman.
"You're not married?"
"No," he said.
Calvin interrupted what was getting uncomfortable to Ackerman. "What happened then?" he asked. Les explained the rest, but omitted the minute details of his interrupted love-scene. He did tell them—by way of explanation—that his being in the company of Tansie Lee was due to the fact that he did not know she was married.
"I'm beginning to understand," said Blaine.
Ackerman nodded. "Go ahead," he said. "But be careful."
Laurie looked puzzled. "I don't get it."
Calvin turned to his daughter. "We've got to hurry," he said; "we've got to meet Lester Ackerman and Tansie Lee, take Ackerman to the edge of time to see the destruction of our world."
"Then it is to be destroyed?" said Laurie fearfully.
"It is only an excellent probability," said her father. "That may—it please God—be averted. Come."
8
Ackerman ran to the laboratory and climbed into another 'time-vehicle'. He drove it through "time" and "space" as fast as he could, returning to the forest area where he had sent the group back. Once there, he pursued a blind train forward in "time", hurrying to catch them.
Swiftly he moved, but as fast as he was, they were always lost ahead of him. In effect, their return was instantaneous, but so was his flight across the years. It was only to Ackerman that "time" seemed to hang heavily as he drove futureward, stopping at regular intervals to see through the gray haze that covered up the outside when the vehicle was in motion.
At long last he saw them, but only for an instant and then through a fading fog.
Again he saw them, hurried ahead of them and waited. They re-appeared in the same postures of their leaving, were present for a bare instant, and then were gone again.
There were houses there the next "time", houses and people that got in his way; the next "time" again, there was a village, and then a small city was there.
But the returning group were slowing, and Ackerman saw that they were changing their posture a bit. The looks of anger and fear were dying; tenseness was leaving their bodies; they were turning to face one another.
It was upon the next "time" that Ackerman snapped his projector at them. He might as well have snapped his fingers; nothing happened.
He wondered, then smiled in frustration. How could he bring an object in from the other world that was not there? He could not; he could but wait until they returned and then grab them quick, again, before they had a chance to do any damage.
He raced forward quite a distance and looked them over. They were moving now; walking and talking to one another. Ackerman could not hear them for he was in his "time-ship" with the "lid" down for instant flight. He cursed the haze; it made a careful estimate of the instant of their arrival almost impossible. Especially now when they were beginning to blend in with the people of the "real world."
He saw it, then. They were idly walking, coming on the "time-strata" of solidity a full yard above the ground. Descending; walking through a "Real World" building toward a "Real World" sidewalk. They would meet—their "Real World" identities who were coming along the street in the same formation, talking in the same fashion.
Converging, wraith and ghost came together, passed through one another, approached a perfect register. Then as they blended into one being each, Ackerman gave a sharp cry and slammed down on his switch.
He saw it again. They parted, wraiths from ghosts, and continued on their respective paths. The group in the "Real World" continued along the street, talking animatedly. The others—solid to Ackerman and themselves, stopped in baffled amazement.
They saw his car, and him. "What is this?" demanded Barry Ford. "Where did you come from? And how in the name of the Seven Deadly Sins do we seem to be walking—wading, so help me—ankle deep in the ground?"
Ackerman sat down in utter weariness. He had done it, all right. He had brought them! He had split the instant on the instant, and with this result.
In the world of "Reality", Barry and Louis Ford, and Joan and Tod Laplane were free to go and tell all. In his world of "time-space", Les Ackerman had four completely baffled people who would never have known of "time-space" and the split worlds if he, Ackerman, had not interfered.
He had wondered about the destruction of Calvin Blaine's world, had sent Blaine off to find his—Ackerman's—own previous "time-self" because it had been Ackerman's opinion that the destruction of Calvin Blaine's world only obtained in a situation where the Laplane-Ford group had been returned. That, he believed, was a transitory situation that would be averted as soon as he caught up with them.
Then came the next blaze of mental lightning. Calvin Blaine was no man's fool: knowing that Ackerman must release the other group after meeting Calvin for the first time, Blaine would also know that when he interrupted the love-scene, it would be Ackerman's first knowledge of Calvin Blaine.
Then. Right then. If Calvin and Laurie Blaine permitted themselves to be caught up with the so-called "edge of time-space" with Lester Ackerman, the latter would never meet the Laplane-Ford group.
There would be no telling no information, and hence no strife. That of itself would be fine. But the twin worlds would eventually come together, both in "space" and in "time", and trouble would ensue from that alone. He, Ackerman, was the only man who could do something about that.
Quickly, he brought the group before him up to date. He told them as much as he could, told them to go and meet the Blaines, who were trying to get lost through the edge of the "time-split". It took some telling, some explanation, and quite a bit of convincing.
Eventually, they agreed. "But how will we go?" asked Barry Ford.
Ackerman wondered, and then grinned. "Simple; I'll not wait long. For I shall send the next person I meet in 'time' to this instant to meet me. In fact," he said with genuine amusement, "I may send myself. And here I come now—see?"
The other car was sliding down, solidifying rapidly as it came into the "time-space" instant of Ackerman's Unreal "present".
"We—"
"Get going," said Les; "I want to talk to myself in peace and quiet." They left, and Ackerman went to the other car, which had landed.
The driver was a stranger. He was about Ackerman's size and build; perhaps a little less gaunt and strained. He had a certain grim humor; sardonic, but still compassionate.
He stepped from the car and faced Ackerman. "So," he said with a sarcastic leer, "You are Lester Ackerman. The Great Physicist!"
"Now listen," snarled Ackerman angrily. "I don't—"
"Well, well!" laughed the other. "Look, Ackerman; for a Great Physicist, you are certainly making a sheer mess out of this."
"It's pretty much of a mess as it is!"
"Only what you've made it. You know, I should really let you stew in your own juice; it'll make a better man of you. It's only that I want to see you come through this at all that I interfere. Chum, you've boiled up a real tangle."
"Ihave?"
"This mess is of your making," insisted the stranger. "Shall I recount?"
"Please do," snapped Ackerman superciliously. "But after you tell me who you are."
"I happen to be Tansie Lee's husband."
"You—" stammered Ackerman. That, possibly, was the one thing that could—and did—fluster him completely. Not only that, but he showed it in every line of his body, every gesture, every stammering syllable. The other got a laugh out of Ackerman's complete loss of personal control.
"Don't apologize," he said. "I sent Tansie Lee; I hoped that you would be smart enough to figure it out with her help. You aren't."
"Did you instruct Tansie Lee to make love to me?"
"Tansie did nothing wrong," said the man. "What was wrong—completely, and totally—was your attitude."
Then he held up a hand as Ackerman was about to continue. "Not now," he said. "You've got to untangle this mess first."
"Go ahead," said Les. "Untangle."
"You," said Tansie Lee's husband, "were met by my wife in a state of ignorance concerning this fine mixup. You were intercepted by the Blaines, whom you, yourself, sent recently to do the intercepting. You even gave them the information that would best cause the breakup of intelligent understanding between Tansie and yourself. The Blaines reached you and intercepted. That fouled up my initial plans. Then you and the Blaines were intercepted again by the Laplane-Ford outfit—which you again sent to do the intercepting. Interestingly snarled, Ackerman; but when Barry Ford told you with such certainty that the Blaines were leading you to the instant of entrapped no-return at the so-called 'edge of time-space', Barry Ford was merely echoing your own fears. Fears which were installed in you, by the way, by Barry, who was recounting your own—oh Hell and Damnation!"
"Mind telling me where the Blaines come in?"
"Certainly. But I won't. You brought them."
"I'll be damned if I bring them."
The other man smiled knowingly. "As you tried to corral the other gang?"
"Meaning?" demanded Les.
"There's many's the slip. 'A would some power the giftie gi'e us, to see ourselves as ithers see us,'" quoted Tansie Lee's husband. "I suppose you're not to blame; but you will agree that it is quite a mess."
"Agreed. Now what do I do about it?"
"Ackerman, what started all this?"
"A strange explosion brought about by the temperon metal in the cyclotron-set-up."
"And how is it to end?"
Ackerman sat down and put his face in his hands. "I don't know," he said soberly. "It seems that I am to make a choice between worlds. I can save one but not the other."
As Ackerman sat there, face lowered and spirits lower, he was in complete misery and totally oblivious to everything about him. One thing only penetrated the depth of his introversion.
That one thing was the cool touch of a soft hand on his shoulder. There was a delicate scent—one that brought memories, both delicately fond and angrily disconcerting. Tansie Lee seated herself beside him and put an arm over his shoulder. "Don't do that to him," she said, speaking to her husband with pleading.
"I can't live his life," he answered; "one more thing, and he'll be all right."
Ackerman looked from one to the other, puzzled. Had he been the other man, he would have been consumed with jealousy. "What?" he asked weakly.
"I can't tell you completely," said the other, "but it has to do with the 'time-fission' and the temperon; you'll figure it out."
There came to Ackerman that he did have the answer. The way to solve the problem was to use his ability to remove the temperon from the cyclotron, and thus avert the explosion!
Tansie stood up. "Come on, Les," she said to him.
"Come on?" he asked dully.
"Yes," said her husband. "Finish what you started; you see, both Tansie and I have a rather large stake in this thing."
He turned and headed across the ground to a second time-ship, entered, and left.
Ackerman stood up and shook his head nervously. "Well, Mrs. Lee," he said, and he mentally winced as he used her pet prefacing word.
She smiled, gaminlike, and said: "But I'm not Mrs. Lee. Tansie Lee is my given name. You see, Les, I am Mrs. Lester Ackerman!"
"Ye—but—uh—"
She laughed gurglingly. "That's another thing that is completely wrong with this 'time-space'," she said; "right now I'm married to you but you aren't married to me. So if there's any question of convention, Lester, you are the guilty party, not I."
Ackerman sat back down again and groaned.
"But you be a good, sensible boy," she promised coyly, "And someday you will be."
"So that was—-me?" he asked in a strained voice.
She nodded.
"You mean to tell me that I didn't recognize myself?" he demanded.
Again she nodded. "You see, Les, you—and everybody—is used to seeing himself in a mirror. No face or person is symmetrical; that mole on your right cheek is always on your mirror image's left cheek—but it was still on the other Ackerman's right cheek. Also, you expected that if that ship did contain yourself, coming to get you as you so happily told the Ford-Laplane outfit, you expected that you would make some wisecrack about it. Therefore you didn't expect yourself to be coming as you did. Quite simple, I call it."
"Another angle on this mad tangle," said Les. "I'll be glad to get out of it."
"So will I," said Tansie.
"And I'm going to start right now!"
9
Below them lay the depressed green-glaze bowl of atomic horror; above stood the silent laboratory, deserted and awaiting the arrival of the technicians for the next morning's work.
Hazily in sight was the temperon sample, and the radiation counters were clicking off at a fast rate.
"What are you going to do?" asked Tansie, in a voice that was filled with fear.
Ackerman stood up and stretched. "I am going to remove that sample," he said with an air of finality. "Then the time-fission will not take place, and there need be no ultimate conflict between the twin worlds."
"You mustn't," she breathed.
"No?"
"No," she told him. "For if you do, you shall not live. And we will never—" she let the sentence die.
He faced her squarely. "Tansie," he said, "It will be very easy for me to fall deeply in love with you. Given another day, and it would certainly obtain. Yet the lives and desires of two people must not prevail to the death and destruction of a world full of people. Though it mean death to me, I could not live knowing that billions of people died because I was selfish."
Tansie looked at him tearfully. "You'd sacrifice me?"
"You make it difficult," he said. "One life for a billion lives. And yet," he said, brightly, "you do exist; does that not prove something?"
"Only that in this world of probability and unreal existance, I am a definite probability."
"Yes," he told her. "This is the world of probability. I am not in the Real World, nor are you. If I do this, who is to tell me that we two may not go on forever in our own world of probability?"
"No," she said pleadingly. "Oh Les—I do so want—"
"I'll chance it," he said. "Because I must. I—look!"
Tansie turned. There, appearing with that thickening of the substance that characterized the arrival of a "time car" was the Blaines' ship. And beside it was the other one. Doors emerged, and the six got out of their ships and faced one another.
"So!" snapped Calvin Blaine. "We can finish this right here."
"Don't ask for mercy," snapped Barry Ford. "Nor expect sportsmanship. This is for keeps, and for the permanent existance of a whole world."
Tansie shuddered. "They'll fight," she said. "Because whichever side wins, they will prevent the others from returning to their worlds with the information that is needed. One and one alone will survive—and it is not fair, four to two, and Calvin Blaine an elderly man."
Tod Laplane lifted his gun; Laurie Blaine, her blonde hair a shining halo, pointed a revolver at Joan Laplane, who raced forward like a raven-haired fury, a gleaming knife in her hand. Barry Ford shook his broad shoulders and leaped—just as a shot rang out from the side.
They all turned. And across the space behind the Ford-Laplane ship there came another couple. A second Calvin and Laurie Blaine, armed.
In all, only four shots were fired before the embattled ones came to contact blows. Then the guns were wrested from fighting hands and it was tooth and nail.
"Come on," said Ackerman. "Because what you see is but eight people. If we do not, there will be that many billions of people fighting to the death."
Their motion caught eyes in the fighting crowd. Both sides were apparently wary of more re-inforcements. None of them knew how many would be coming back; it is conceivable that whole armies could be built up of people returning to fight this battle.
But it was Les and Tansie Lee that they saw, and they stopped. Then Les and Tansie were in their ship, and Les was at the control board.
The other crowd boiled in, behind them, the fight forgotten, momentarily. They wanted Les Ackerman above all, for he was in a position to nullify any of their acts, regardless of which side won. He was not going to elude them again; they would continue this battle in Ackerman's presence so that the winner would be able to overpower the physicist.
Ackerman nudged the automatic controls. The "time-space" vehicle started forward in space and backwards in "time".
Behind him the two factions eyed one another suspiciously, and moved warily to get into fighting-position.
Les turned briefly, and shook his head. Getting into that battle himself would be no good.Let them fight!he said to himself.Give me "time".Ackerman could best win by removing the cause.
He flipped the top-hatch open and groped out of the moving ship with his gloved hand—the temperon-coated glove—hoping to locate by sheer luck the cyclotron target and the temperon sample. By luck aided with a good memory of where it was. He thought for a moment that he, himself, was not far from here in both "time" and "space". He was separated in space by the radiation-proof barrier, and in "time" only by the few instants of temporal fission.
Then he saw it! Vaguely, dimly, distorted by the gray-green haze that enveloped the ship in motion.
The ship stalled. It could not penetrate the barrier of "time" to head into the "past" which would have been previous to the fission of "time". So Ackerman nudged the power up higher and the temporal drive of the ship strained against the barrier like an automobile straining against an immobile wall.
Ackerman reached for the temperon.
Tansie cried: "No, Les!" She ran to take his hands from the open hatch.
He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "You'll be all right," he said softly; "it is a chance we must take!"
"But—" she said uncertainly, and stopped because of the roar that came from behind.
"Ackerman!" bellowed Tod Laplane. "He's removing the original temperon!"
"If he does!" swore Barry Ford, "We'll not exist!"
Their private fight forgotten, both factions turned and hurled themselves at Ackerman.
Eight people to one—and Tansie Lee still against his purpose to boot; he shook her free and reached, missed and tried again.
The roar of noise stopped. Ackerman caught it out of the corner of one eye. Tansie Lee still believed that the removal of the temperon and the resulting correction of the "time-split" would make her non-existant, but she was standing there with a wicked-looking shotgun poised across one shapely hip. If she fired, the kick would turn her around, and Tansie knew it, for she was pointing the gun to her left. The second shot would sweep the right side of the room, and the chances were excellent that no one would be much alive after the third.
Limbo—the land of non-existance—might be her lot, but until she left here, no one was going to harm Les Ackerman.
He shook all thoughts from his mind and reached again. And this time he touched it!
The gray-green haze parted in a flare of light. Ackerman saw both the deuterium-ice target and the temperon clearly; it was the latter that gave him pause.
For out from the temperon sample was growing a shimmering, uncertain sphere of energy. It expanded and then hurled itself outward with lightning rapidity. Out it went, to the ends of the infinite universe.
Then destruction, sheer and complete, broke loose. The "time-ship" was hurled away, but not before they saw solid matter burst into a coruscation of incandescent gas, and flame up out of its wraithlike self into a pillar of boiling clouds that headed for the stratosphere. Below them, the ground seared upwards and sintered downwards and fused into an ugly gray-green glaze.
"So," said Ackerman, shaking with reaction. "So Lester Ackerman himself is the cause of the fission in 'time'. You may stop fighting, gentlemen. Tansie, you can stop pointing that cannon at them, too."
Calvin Blaine came forward and took it from her shaking hands. She turned blindly, like an automaton; then she looked up at Les and reality came once more across her face. "Les!" she cried and hurled herself forward into his arms.
Calvin turned to his other, "time-separated" self. "Please leave," he said. "This is most disconcerting."
One Laurie Blaine shrugged at the other. "I don't even like myself as competition," she said.
One pair of Blaines left the ship; the other Calvin Blaine looked out of the window and chuckled. "They left," he said, "just in time to get into that fight!"
"Then this," replied his daughter, "is the ship they came in."
"Ours is over there," said Blaine; "let's go."
"But what about them—and him?" asked Laurie indicating the others in Ackerman's ship.
"I think," said Blaine, "that nothing we do can change much right now; Ackerman himself is the one that must be moving next."
Barry Ford grunted angrily. It was quite apparent that a sudden thought had occurred to him. He herded his friends out and into their own ship.
"Hell!" said Blaine, taking Laurie by the arm and almost hurling her out.
"What's got into them?" asked Tansie.
"It has occurred to them that there is one more very definite danger for them all. They've got to go there to prevent it. Foolishly, they're hurrying when they know that I've got a lot of work to do first, and still will end up where they are at the proper instant."
"Work?" asked Tansie.
"Uh-huh," he said. "I've some correcting to do. Will you drive us along the Blaines' side of this 'Time-stream'. I'm going to peck at the typewriter a bit."
It was a long time later. Ackerman had written several thousand words on the subject, and was now peering through one of the ship windows at the laboratory through which the "time-space" ship was parked. Then, satisfied, he nodded. "Push here," he said cryptically.
"Huh?" asked Tansie.
"Part of my corrective work," he said. "So help me, I started this mess; I'm going to be the one that cleans it up."
He used the projector to drag a few odd items into the "time-space" from the "real world" laboratory.
"On the other side of that barrier," he told Tansie, "there are a couple of characters bootlegging a bit of private research."
"What are you going to do?"
"They are going to have themselves a high-grade atomic explosion."
"Won't that be dangerous? And how will it cause corrective measures?"
Les grinned with self-satisfaction. "This," he said waving his hands, "is the world of throttled research. Like all times of prohibition, there are people who will bootleg, whether it be liquor, dope, or knowledge. This explosion, however, will do two things to that world. They will understand that there are a lot of people doing the same thing—and will also know that this same thing might happen again and again, because no one has the faintest idea of what anybody else is doing! When the first chemist mixed gunpowder, he was able to warn other chemists not to mix more than so much—or else. But after this atomic blow-up, no one will be able to do any warning—and they'll not know what line of research these people were taking."
"Yes," said Tansie uncertainly.
"Then, in order to bring it all out in the clear and the open, they must repeal their laws that throttle and forbid research. This will make Blaine's world less divergent."
He reached forward with his temperon-clad glove and took firm hold of the temperon sample in the "Real" world cyclotron.
During the boiling, coruscating roar of the atomic hell, Tansie held her breath. The ship was driven away before she spoke.
"Temperon again," she said. "Isn't that likely to cause another 'time-split'?"
He shook his head. "No," he said. "'Time' splits only when there is two very definite possibilities for a future. Individual and minute acts such as might be called a major catastrophe on earth do nothing to disturb the 'temporal' advance. You see, Tansie, Man is an animal possessing free will, and he can do as he pleases. But his every act is based upon his past experience, and therefore whatever he does is reasonably predictable. Therefore, while it is possible to state that a tree might grow in two possible ways, the fact is that it grows only one way and therefore we have no multiplicity of worlds of probability. There is no Wheel of If."
10
"But what about the people who were running that thing?" asked Tansie.
"Tough," said Ackerman, "But better them than—"
"No," said Tansie, taking his arm and shaking it pleadingly. "Not murder, Les."
"Okay," he said. "But you are making me a lot of trouble. By insisting, I mean."
"How?"
"Watch," he said. He drove the "time-space" ship back towards the "past", and stopped it previous to the explosion. He plied the projector in the operating chamber of the cyclotron, and two people solidified and came to the unreal world. "Meet Calvin and Laurie Blaine," said Ackerman.
Tansie gulped and sat down hard.
Calvin Blaine blinked and said: "How did this come to be?"
Ackerman shook his head tiredly. He handed Blaine the several sheets of typescript. "Here," he said. "This gives you enough information for a beginning. Once you grasp the situation, you are to do the job outlined on the last four pages."
He turned to Tansie. "Drive the ship to Barry Ford's world, while I try to explain what's to be done."
"What are you going to do?" she asked him.
"There's some strings still untied," smiled Ackerman, who was now master of the situation and worthy of the name of Great Physicist. "The Blaines are going to build me my laboratory!"
He left Calvin and Laurie in the familiar woods of Wisconsin on the other world, complete with his projector and the plans. Then down through the "time-space" he and Tansie went, on that world, to an era which Ackerman knew to be the critical "time".
"We 'pushed' there," he said. "Now we pry here."
"What kind of measure comes here?"
"Same prescription," said Ackerman, reaching for his temperon-clad glove.
"And is this where the Ford-Laplane outfit comes in?"
"No. Since this is the world of free research, the cyclotron laboratory will be remotely controlled and unattended; no one will get hurt."
"But I don't understand how the same cure works on both worlds," complained Tansie.
"Very simple. The other world didn't know what one another was doing because everybody was afraid to talk. In this world no one knows what his neighbor is doing because, with everybody doing it, there is too little correlation of effort. No one has to ask anybody's permission to tinker, and so when this laboratory goes up, again no one will be quite sure of what caused it."
"But those who were running it will," objected Tansie.
Ackerman smiled. "Tansie Lee is one of my favorite cooks," he told her. "She's been cooking for years. And would Tansie know what happened if she mixed up a batch of baking powder biscuits out of her grandmother's old tried and true recipe—used in the family for years—and when she popped them in the oven to cook, they exploded and destroyed the end of the house?"
"So?" she smiled. "You're going to take a standard experiment and fudge it up?"
"Yup," he said with a grin, waving a bit of temperon, held in his temperon-clad glove.
Again the explosion boiled skyward, and the flame and the blast seared the eyeballs and battered at the eardrums. Then it was over, and they were gone again.
"And now?" asked Tansie.
"Now we effect the coalescence of two worlds of probability," he told her.
Les Ackerman drove the "time-space" vehicle at a head-long pace into the "future". He nodded with satisfaction when he noted that the destruction of Calvin Blaine's world was not to be. And though he had never seen the opposing success in probability—the destruction of the world of free research—he knew about when its probable destruction took place. He watched, and was gratified to know that his acts had averted the successful culmination of either side's plans for conquest.
On through "time-space" went Ackerman and Tansie Lee, across the years until it was apparent that the twin worlds of dual probability were, indeed, coming closer together. For as Les explained it, when the world of throttled research opened up, and the world of too-free research closed down, they began to become more and more like one another. So they were coming closer together not only in attitude, but in "space" as well.
Slowly and ponderously they came together. It took years from the initial tangential contact to where their surfaces were almost in perfect register.
And Ackerman sought through the doubled-world again and found running the "time-space" vehicle difficult because the congruency of the two worlds made through-passage impossible. But across the world he went, even so.
And he found what he was looking for. In both worlds, men were working on research problems. It was a crazy scene; the laboratories were in excellent register, and appeared as one. The men, of course, were free to move, and they were not performing the same acts. It made for a blurring, maddening scene to watch men working furiously in a large laboratory and workingthroughone another.
Then one man in each world turned from his work and held up a sample. They were about eight feet apart in space.
Their fellows stopped work also, and each group went below.
"Now," said Ackerman, "if we're lucky—"
"This," said Tansie Lee, "is where we part."
"Part?" he asked in wonder.
She nodded. "I am going—back—to you—my husband. After all, Lester, we have yet to meet for the truly first time. That is—well—I mean I can't very well marry you twice in 'time', you know. You'll have to make the acquaintance of Tansie Lee for the first time, too."
"When do we part?"
"As soon as you are successful."
"I'll be looking for you," he said. Then he stopped short, standing in the hallway of the laboratory as the men trouped past—through—the two of them on their way to the cyclotron chamber below.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "I can kiss a married woman," he said, "with a free mind so long as she is married to me."
She went into his arms to be held—as she was holding him—close. Ackerman more than half expected another interruption, but it did not come. That annoying thought faded as he found his entire attention held by the softly eager woman in his arms. Long, tender, silent moments passed, and then returned reality.
"I like your looks," he told her. "And that was a temporary good-bye. I'll be most careful not to make any mistakes."
Tansie's eyes were shining brightly but she merely nodded and said only: "Auf wiedersehen, my darling."
Ackerman turned and hurried down the laboratory steps with Tansie behind him. They arrived just as both technicians were placing the samples to be bombarded in the cyclotron—one in each world but in perfect register. Ackerman stood in the room beside the big machine as the others left, his temperon-clad glove poised over the congruent samples.
Then and only then he saw the rest. They came hurriedly, fearfully. But not in hatred of one another.
Calvin Blaine shook his head. "You should not have done this," he said.
"But it is done," added Barry Ford. "Now he must have perfect co-ordination, or else."
Tod Laplane shrugged. "If he coalesces these twin worlds at the wrong 'time', there will be the damnedest celestially cosmic explosion since the beginning of the universe."
Louis Ford said: "Maybe that's how the universe really started."
Laurie Blaine shook her head. "Don't be a pessimist," she said. Then she turned to Ackerman with pleading eyes. "Please be careful," she said. "After all, you haven't met Tansie Lee yet; and I am your woman, Lester."
Joan Laplane, as attractively dark as Laurie Blaine was beautifully blonde, stood beside the other girl. There was no sign of scorn, nor even embarrassment between them, and she added her bit to the moment: "You'd not destroy a world for the love of a woman, Lester. That's commendable. I've not mentioned how I felt because of reasons known to both of us. But," she said to Ackerman, but facing both Tansie Lee and Laurie Blaine, "until Lester places a wedding ring on some girl's finger, I'm considering myself as active competition."
Tansie laughed confidently. "Dream on," she said, "but remember, I'm the one he'll marry."
"That's only a good probability," said Laurie. "But no certain thing."
"Shut up," said Calvin Blaine. "This is no time to get his nerves on edge. Ackerman, don't do it. Let these worlds diverge again, and go on whole."
Ackerman shook his head. "Can't be done," he said.
Then the cyclotron started beside him, and a stream of bluish haze surrounded the target and the sample. Ackerman timed it, and then clamped his hand down hard on the bit of temperon in the machine....
There was a solid wave of sound, and a torrent of sheer energy that stormed at them. The earth shook in a series of abrupt shocks, and from somewhere there converged a film of shimmering something that marked the boundary of a field of energetic force. It came closing in, and disappeared within the bit of temperon. That much Ackerman saw before he blacked-out completely, shaken with pain.
But this was no atomic explosion. Instead of sending the laboratory skyward in a billowing cloud of energetic particles, the force of the blast was confined to the space within the cyclotron room.
And then the energy that was compressed by the spherical shell was driven into the "past"—into the era of "fissioned-time". That period needed that cosmic energy in order to function at all.
The cycle was ended, the story finished. Ackerman had started the fission, and had effected its end.
The cyclotron workers, all unknowing, had coalesced; had become a single probability again. They entered, and found Ackerman lying there.
It never was explained to their satisfaction. Nor could they understand why and how he managed to be in the cyclotron chamber during a bombardment without getting badly irradiated. Ackerman accepted their help and their solace for his aches, but said no more.
He started to leave the laboratory, and he was very thoughtful. He alone of them all was here. The Fords, Laplanes, and Blaines were all gone inexplicably—possibly back into the realm of unreal "time". That meant that the Blaines went back to their laboratory to be—
Not necessarily. Forewarned is forearmed and Ackerman had no proof that they were in the explosion. They could not stop the blow-up, but they could, and probably would, leave for safety so soon as the time-conservation-energy factor returned them.
But even so, Ackerman was sorry. Sorry, and yet glad. For his possible woman-trouble had gone along with the trouble with the time-split.
He looked out of the door and saw—
Tansie Lee!
"Tansie!" he shouted.
He ran—and crashed through the glass of the door, landed on the sidewalk in a welter of broken glass. She turned. "Impulsive, aren't you?"
"Tansie!" he breathed, reaching for her hands.
"That is my name," she said, "But who are you?"
"Les Ackerman," he told her. "And you'll be seeing a lot of me!"
She smiled. "Come and tell me about it," she said. She looked up at him leadingly—and for the first time, Lester Ackerman noticed that her eyes were as blue as any blonde's—Laurie's, for instance, but her complexion was definitely brunette, as dark as Joan's. Her auburn hair was—about halfway between.
He linked arms with her. "This," he said, "is probably the best of all probable worlds."
Epilogue—
The woman moved from her husband's arms and faced the vehicle with distaste. "I hate to go," she said.
"You must," he told her. "And quickly, or there will not be enough power to penetrate the 'Real World' back to the 'fissioned-time'. I'd send someone else, but no one but you and I can go through 'time' to the dual worlds."
She nodded unhappily, and started the machine. It disappeared instantly, leaping the "time" between now and the "time" of fissioned probability, where such a machine could easily function. It was back immediately, and she hurled herself tearfully into her husband's arms.
"I've muffed it terribly," she sobbed.
He stroked her head, and then seated her on the ground beside the machine. He got in, disappeared, and also returned instantly.
"There," he told her. "And that is that."
He lifted her from the ground, put his arm about her lissome waist, and walked her to the house, leaving the machine.
Tomorrow he would dismantle it. It was the only one of its kind, and its usefulness was over. Finished, washed-up, obsolete. After a total Real Operating Time of less than ten milliseconds.
But during which time it had really been around!
THE END