fountain pen on athick sheaf of typewritten manuscript. Around him stretched an expanseof green lawn, dotted here and there with squat cycads that looked likeovergrown pineapples; in the distance, screening the big house from theroad, stood a row of stately palms, their fronds stirring lightly in thefaint, warm California breeze.
The old man raised his head as a car pulled into the curving driveway.The warm hum of the turboelectric engine stopped, and a man climbed outof the vehicle. He walked with easy strides across the grass to wherethe elderly gentleman sat. He was lithe, of indeterminate age, but witha look of great determination. There was something in his face that madethe old man vaguely uneasy--not with fear but with a sense of deeprespect.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"I have some news for you, Mr. President," the younger one said.
The old man smiled wryly. "I haven't been President for fourteen years.Most people call me 'Senator' or just plain 'Mister'."
* * * * *
The younger man smiled back. "Very well, Senator. My name is Camberton,James Camberton. I brought some information that may possibly relieveyour mind--or, again, it may not."
"You sound ominous, Mr. Camberton. I hope you'll remember that I've beenretired from the political field for nearly five years. What is thisshattering news?"
"Paul Wendell's body was buried yesterday."
The Senator looked blank for a second, then recognition came into hisface. "Wendell, eh? After all this time. Poor chap; he'd have beenbetter off if he'd died twenty years ago." Then he paused and looked up."But just who are you, Mr. Camberton? And what makes you think I wouldbe particularly interested in Paul Wendell?"
"Mr. Wendell wants to tell you that he is very grateful to you forhaving saved his life, Senator. If it hadn't been for your orders, hewould have been left to die."
The Senator felt strangely calm, although he knew he should feel shock."That's ridiculous, sir! Mr. Wendell's brain was hopelessly damaged; henever recovered his sanity or control of his body. I know; I used todrop over to see him occasionally, until I finally realized that I wasonly making myself feel worse and doing him no good."
"Yes, sir. And Mr. Wendell wants you to know how much he appreciatedthose visits."
* * * * *
The Senator grew red. "What the devil are you talking about? I just saidthat Wendell couldn't talk. How could he have said anything to you? Whatdo you know about this?"
"I never said he _spoke_ to me, Senator; he didn't. And as to what Iknow of this affair, evidently you don't remember my name. JamesCamberton."
The Senator frowned. "The name is familiar, but--" Then his eyes wentwide. "Camberton! You were one of the eight men who--Why, _you're theman who shot Wendell_!"
Camberton pulled up an empty lawnchair and sat down. "That's right,Senator; but there's nothing to be afraid of. Would you like to hearabout it?"
"I suppose I must." The old man's voice was so low that it was scarcelyaudible. "Tell me--were the other seven released, too? Have--have youall regained your sanity? Do you remember--" He stopped.
"Do we remember the extra-sensory perception formula? Yes, we do; alleight of us remember it well. It was based on faulty premises, andincomplete, of course; but in its own way it was workable enough. Wehave something much better now."
The old man shook his head slowly. "I failed, then. Such an idea is asfatal to society as we know it as a virus plague. I tried to keep youmen quarantined, but I failed. After all those years of insanity, nowthe chess game begins; the poker game is over."
"It's worse than that," Camberton said, chuckling softly. "Or, actually,it's much better."
"I don't understand; explain it to me. I'm an old man, and I may notlive to see my world collapse. I hope I don't."
Camberton said: "I'll try to explain in words, Senator. They'reinadequate, but a fuller explanation will come later."
And he launched into the story of the two-decade search of Paul Wendell.
CODA--ANDANTINO
"Telepathy? Time travel?" After three hours of listening, theex-President was still not sure he understood.
"Think of it this way," Camberton said. "Think of the mind at any giveninstant as being surrounded by a shield--a shield of privacy--a shieldwhich you, yourself have erected, though unconsciously. It's a perfectinsulator against telepathic prying by others. You feel you _have_ tohave it in order to retain your privacy--your sense of identity, even.But here's the kicker: even though no one else can get in, _you_ can'tget out!
"You can call this shield 'self-consciousness'--perhaps _shame_ is abetter word. Everyone has it, to some degree; no telepathic thought canbreak through it. Occasionally, some people will relax it for a fractionof a second, but the instant they receive something, the barrier goes upagain."
"Then how is telepathy possible? How can you go through it?" The Senatorlooked puzzled as he thoughtfully tamped tobacco into his briar.
"You don't go _through_ it; you go _around_ it."
* * * * *
"Now wait a minute; that sounds like some of those fourth dimensionstories I've read. I recall that when I was younger, I read a murdermystery--something about a morgue, I think. At any rate, the murder wascommitted inside a locked room; no one could possibly have gotten in orout. One of the characters suggested that the murderer traveled throughthe fourth dimension in order to get at the victim. He didn't go throughthe walls; he went around them." The Senator puffed a match flame intothe bowl of his pipe, his eyes on the younger man. "Is that what you'redriving at?"
"Exactly," agreed Camberton. "The fourth dimension. Time. You must goback in time to an instant when that wall did not exist. An infant hasno shame, no modesty, no shield against the world. You must travel backdown your own four-dimensional tube of memory in order to get outsideit, and to do that, you have to know your own mind completely, and youmust be _sure_ you know it.
"For only if you know your own mind can you communicate with anothermind. Because, at the 'instant' of contact, you _become_ that person;you must enter his own memory at the beginning and go _up_ thehyper-tube. You will have all his memories, his hopes, his fears, his_sense of identity_. Unless you know--beyond any trace of doubt--who_you_ are, the result is insanity."
* * * * *
The Senator puffed his pipe for a moment, then shook his head. "Itsounds like Oriental mysticism to me. If you can travel in time, you'dbe able to change the past."
"Not at all," Camberton said; "that's like saying that if you read abook, the author's words will change.
"Time isn't like that. Look, suppose you had a long trough filled withsupercooled water. At one end, you drop in a piece of ice. Immediatelythe water begins to freeze; the crystallization front moves toward theother end of the trough. Behind that front, there is ice--frozen,immovable, unchangeable. Ahead of it there is water--fluid, mobile,changeable.
"The instant we call 'the present' is like that crystallization front.The past is unchangeable; the future is flexible. But they both exist."
"I see--at least, I think I do. And you can do all this?"
"Not yet," said Camberton; "not completely. My mind isn't as strong asWendell's, nor as capable. I'm not the--shall we say--the superman heis; perhaps I never will be. But I'm learning--I'm learning. After all,it took Paul twenty years to do the trick under the most favorablecircumstances imaginable."
"I see." The Senator smoked his pipe in silence for a long time.Camberton lit a cigaret and said nothing. After a time, the Senator tookthe briar from his mouth and began to tap the bowl gently on the heel ofhis palm. "Mr. Camberton, why do you tell me all this? I still haveinfluence with the Senate; the present President is a protege of mine.It wouldn't be too difficult to get you men--ah--put away again. I haveno desire to see our society ruined, our world destroyed. Why do youtell me?"
* * * * *
Camberton smil
ed apologetically. "I'm afraid you might find it a littledifficult to put us away again, sir; but that's not the point. You see,we need you. We have no desire to destroy our present culture until wehave designed a better one to replace it.
"You are one of the greatest living statesmen, Senator; you have awealth of knowledge and ability that can never be replaced; knowledgeand ability that will help us to design a culture and a civilizationthat will be as far above this one as this one is above the wolf pack.We want you to come in