name.
"Putsyn hired a criminal, Dorn Starret, to get rid of her for him," hesaid harshly. "That was the way Starret made his living. He was anexpert at it.
"Starret slugged her one night on Mars. He didn't retro her at once.He loaded her on a spaceship and brought her to Earth. During thepassage, he talked to her and got to like her a lot. She wasn't asdeveloped as she is now, kind of mousy maybe, but you know how thosethings are--he liked her. He made love to her, but didn't get veryfar.
"He landed in another city on Earth and left his spaceship there; hedrugged her and brought her to the Shelter here and retroed her.That's what he'd been paid to do.
"Then he decided to stick around. Maybe she'd change her mind afterretrogression. He stayed in a Shelter just across from the one she wasin. And he made a mistake. He hid the retro gun behind the screen.
"Putsyn came around to check up. He didn't like Starret stayingthere--a key word or a familiar face sometimes triggers the memory. Heretroed Starret, who didn't have a gun he could get to in a hurry.Maybe Putsyn had planned to do it all along. He'd built up an airtightalibi when Luise disappeared, so that nobody would connect him withthat--and who'd miss a criminal like Starret?
"Anyway, that was only part of it. He knew that people who've beenretroed try to find out who they are, and that some of them succeed.He didn't want that to happen. So he put an advertisement in the paperthat she'd see and answer. When she did, he began to use his machineon her, intending to take her from the present to the past and backagain so often that her mind would refuse to accept anything, past orpresent.
"But he'd just started when Starret showed up, and he knew he had toget him too. So he pulled what looked like a deliberate slip and gotStarret interested, intending to take care of both of them in the sameway at the same time."
He leaned against the wall. It was over now and he knew what he couldexpect.
"That's all, but it didn't work out the way Putsyn wanted it. Starretwas a guy who knew how to look after his own interests."
Except the biggest and most important one; there he'd failed.
Borgenese was tapping on the desk, but it wasn't really tapping--hewas pushing buttons. A policeman came in and the counselor motioned toPutsyn: "Put him in the pre-trial cells."
"You can't prove it," said Putsyn. His face was sunken and frightened.
"I think we can," said the counselor indifferently. "You don't knowthe efficiency of our laboratories. You'll talk."
* * * * *
When Putsyn had been removed, Borgenese turned. "Very good work, Luis.I'm pleased with you. I think in time you'd make an excellentpoliceman. Retro detail, of course."
Luis stared at him.
"Didn't you listen?" he said. "I'm Dorn Starret, a cheap crook."
In that mental picture of Starret he'd had, he should have seen it atonce. Left-handed? Not at all--that was the way a man normally sawhimself in a mirror. And in mirror images, the right hand becomes theleft.
The counselor sat up straight, not gentle and easygoing any longer."I'm afraid you can't prove that," he said. "Fingerprints? Will any ofStarret's past associates identify you? There's Putsyn, but he won'tbe around to testify." He smiled. "As final evidence let me ask youthis: when he offered you a share in his crooked scheme, did youaccept? You did not. Instead, you brought him in, though you thoughtyou were heading into certain retrogression."
Luis blinked dazedly. "But--"
"There are no exceptions, Luis. For certain crimes there is aprescribed penalty, retrogression. The law makes no distinction as tohow the penalty is applied, and for a good reason. If there was such aperson, Dorn Starret ceased to exist when Putsyn retroed him--and notonly legally."
Counselor Borgenese stood up. "You see, retroing a person wipes himclean of almost everything he ever knew--_right and wrong_. It leaveshim with an adult body, and we fill his mind with adult facts. Givenhalf a chance, he acts like an adult."
Borgenese walked slowly to stand in front of his desk. "We protectlife. Everybody's life. _Including those who are not yet victims._ Wedon't have the death penalty and don't want it. The most we can do toanyone is give him a new chance, via retrogression. We have the samepenalty for those who deprive another of his memory as we do for thosewho kill--with this difference: the man who retrogresses another knowshe has a good chance to get away with it. The murderer is certain thathe won't.
"That's an administrative rule, not a law--that we don't try to traceretrogression victims. It channels anger and greed intonon-destructive acts. There are a lot of unruly emotions floatingaround, and as long as there are, we have to have a safety valve forthem. Retrogression is the perfect instrument for that."
Luise tried to speak, but he waved her into silence.
"Do you know how many were killed last year?" he asked.
Luis shook his head.
"Four," said the counselor. "Four murders in a population of sixteenbillion. That's quite a record, as anyone knows who reads TwentiethCentury mystery novels." He glanced humorously at Luis. "You did,didn't you?"
Luis nodded mutely.
Borgenese grinned. "I thought so. There are only three types ofpeople who know about fingerprints today, historians and policemenbeing two. And I didn't think you were either."
Luise finally broke in. "Won't Putsyn's machine change things?"
"Will it?" The counselor pretended to frown. "Do you remember how tobuild it?"
"I've forgotten," she confessed.
"So you have," said Borgenese. "And I assure you Putsyn is going toforget too. As a convicted criminal, and he will be, we'll provide himwith a false memory that will prevent his prying into the past.
"That's one machine we don't want until humans are fully andcompletely civilized. It's been invented a dozen times in the lastcentury, and it always gets lost."
He closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them, Luise waslooking at Luis, who was staring at the floor.
"You two can go now," he said. "When you get ready, there are jobs forboth of you in my department. No hurry, though; we'll keep them open."
Luis left, went out through the long corridors and into the night.
* * * * *
She caught up with him when he was getting off the belt that had takenhim back to the Shelters.
"There's not much you can say, I suppose," she murmured. "What can youtell a girl when she learns you've stopped just short of killing her?"
He didn't know the answer either.
They walked in silence.
She stopped at her dwelling, but didn't go in. "Still, it's anindication of how you felt--that you forgot your own name and tookmine." She was smiling now. "I don't see how I can do less for you."
Hope stirred and he moved closer. But he didn't speak. She might notmean what he thought she did.
"Luis and Luise Obispo," she said softly. "Very little change forme--just add Mrs. to it." She was gazing at him with familiarintensity. "Do you want to come in?"
She opened the door.
Crime was sometimes the road to opportunity, and retrogression couldbe kind.
--F. L. WALLACE
* * * * *
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