A month passed. The tenseness seemed to have left him. He discovered that his son was turning into a miniature replica of his father, tall, taciturn, with the same inner traits of courage, dependability, conscience. It was a startling thing to watch the boy unfolding, becoming a personality.
It was too bad, Ewing thought, as he wrestled with his son or touched his wife’s arm, that he would have to be leaving them soon. He would regret parting with them. But at least they would be spared any grief.
A second month passed. The apparatus he was building in his basement, in the sacrosanct den that neither Blade nor Laira ever dared to enter, was nearing completion. The time was drawing near.
He ran the final tests on a warm midsummer day. The machine responded perfectly. The time had come.
He called upstairs via the intercom. Laira was reading in the study; Blade was watching the video. “Blade? Laira?”
“We’re here, Baird. What do you want?” Laira asked. Ewing said, “I’ll be running some very delicate experiments during the next twenty minutes or so. Any shift in the room balance might foul things up. Would you both be kind enough to stay put, in whatever room you’re in now, until I give the signal from downstairs?”
“Of course, darling.”
Ewing smiled and hung up. Quite carefully he took a massive crowbar from his tool-chest and propped it up at the side of the wall, near the outer door of the den. He glanced at his watch. The time was 1403:30.
He recrossed the room and made some final adjustments on the apparatus. He stared at his watch, letting the minutes go by. Six… seven… eight…
At 1411:30 he reached up and snapped a switch. The machinery hummed briefly and threw him back ten minutes in time.
19.
He was hovering inches in the air above his own front lawn. He dropped, landing gently, and looked at his watch. The dial said: 1401:30.
At this very moment, he knew, his earlier self was on the house phone, calling upstairs to Laira. Ewing moistened his lips. This would take careful coordination. Very careful.
On tiptoe he ran round the house, entering at the side door that led to his basement workshop. He moved stealthily down the inner corridor until he was only a few feet from the workshop door. There, he waited.
There was an intercom outlet mounted in the hall. Gently he lifted the receiver from the hook and put it to his ear.
He heard himself say, “Any shift in the room balance might foul things up. Would you both be kind enough to stay put, in whatever room you’re in now, until I give the signal from downstairs?”
“Of course, darling,” Laira’s voice responded.
Outside, in the hall, Ewing looked at his watch. It read 1403:10. He waited a moment. At 1403:30 he heard the faint clink as the crowbar was propped up against the wall near the door.
So far, everything was right on schedule. But here was where he intended to cause a split in the time-track once again.
He edged forward and peered through the partly open door into the workshop. A familiar-looking figure sat with his back to the door, hunched over the time-projector on the table, making fine adjustments preparatory to jumping back in time ten minutes.
His watch said 1405:15.
He stepped quickly into the room and snatched up the crowbar he had so carefully provided for himself. He crossed the room in four quick bounds; his double, absorbed in his work, did not notice until Ewing put his hand on the shoulder of the other and lifted him away from the work bench. In the same motion he swung the crowbar; it smashed into the main section of the time-projector, sending it tumbling to the floor in a tingling crash of breaking tubes and crumbling circuits.
“I hated to do that,” he remarked casually. “It represented a lot of work. But you know why I did it.”
“Y-yes,” the other said uncertainly. The two men faced each other over the wreckage of the projector, Baird Ewing facing Baird Ewing, the only difference between them being that one held a crowbar ready for further use. Ewing prayed Laira had not heard the crash. Everything would be ruined if she chose this moment to violate the sanctity of his workroom.
Slowly, he said to his double, “You know who I am and why I’m here, don’t you? And where I came from?”
The other ruefully stared down at the wreckage. “I guess so. You got there ahead of me, didn’t you? You’re one notch up on me in the Absolute time-track.”
Ewing nodded. “Exactly. And keep your voice down. I don’t want any trouble from you.”
“You’re determined to do it?”
Ewing nodded again. “Listen to me very carefully, now. I’m going to take my—our—car and drive into Broughton. I’m going to make a call to Premier Davidson. Then I’m going to drive out to the spaceport, get into a ship, and leave. That’s the last you’ll ever hear from me.
“In the meantime, you’re to stay down here until at least 1420 or so. Then call upstairs to Laira and tell her you’ve finished the experiment. Sweep up the wreckage, and if you’re a wise man you won’t build any more of these gadgets in the future. From now on, no extra Baird Ewings. You’ll be the only one. And take good care of Laira and Blade. I love them, too.”
“Wait a minute,” the other Ewing said. “You’re not being fair.”
“To whom?”
“To yourself. Look, I’m as much Baird Ewing as you are. And it’s as much my responsibility to—to leave Corwin as it is yours. You don’t have any right to take it upon yourself to give up everything you love. Let’s at least flip a coin to see who goes.”
Ewing shook his head. In a quiet, flat voice he said, “No. I go. I’ve watched too many of my alter egos sacrifice themselves to keep me safe and sound.”
“So have I, remember?”
Ewing shrugged. “That’s tough for you, then. But this is my ride through the time-track, and I’m going. You stay here and nurse your guilty conscience, if you like. But you shouldn’t moan too much. You’ll have Laira and Blade. And Baird Ewing will be doing what he ought to be doing, as well.”
“But—”
Ewing lifted the crowbar menacingly. “I don’t want to skull you, brother. Accept defeat gracefully.”
He looked at his watch. It was 1410. He walked to the door and said, “The car will be parked at the spaceport. You figure out some explanation for how it got there.”
He turned and walked out.
The car was waiting in its garage; he touched his finger to the burglar-proof identiplate that controlled the garage door, and the car came out. He got in, switched on the directional guide, and left via the back route, so no one in the house could see him.
As soon as he was comfortably distant from the house, he snapped on the phone circuit and gave the operator Premier Davidson’s number.
After a short pause, Davidson acknowledged.
“Hello, Baird. What’s on your mind?”
“A favor. You owe me one, remember? I asked for carte blanche the day after the Klodni thing.”
Davidson chuckled. “I haven’t forgotten about ft, Baird. Well?”
“I want to borrow a spaceship,” Ewing said quietly. “A one-man ship. The same sort of ship I used to get to Earth in, a few years ago.”
“A spaceshipP” The Premier sounded incredulous. “What would you be wanting a spaceship for?”
“That doesn’t matter. An experiment of mine, let’s say. I asked for a favor, and you said you’d grant it. Are you backing down, now?”