"My wife."
"What's her first name?"
"Go to hell."
"Later, don't rush me. I need her first name." "And I won't play games; we're leaving. If you see Lazarus Long-or Dr. Hubert-tell him that I'm sick of childish games and won't play. Good-bye, Uncle."
"Hold it! Don't move; I have you in my sights." I turned away without answering and said to Hazel, "Let's start walking, hon. Town is a far piece down the road but somebody will come along and give us a lift. People around here are friendly."
"I can phone for help. The way I did from the Raffles " She lifted her handbag.
"Can you? Wouldn't the call be relayed right back to this house no matter where or when or what time line? Or have I failed to understand any of it? Let's start hoofing it. My turn to carry that fierce cat."
"All right."
Hazel did not seem to be troubled over our failure to get into Uncle Jock's place, or Time Headquarters, whichever As for me, I was happy, light-hearted. I had a beautiful, lovable bnde. I was no longer a cripple and I felt years younger than my calendar age. If I still had a calendar age. The weather was heavenly in a fashion that only Iowa knows. Oh, it would be hot later in the day (it takes hot sun to grow good corn) but now, at about ten-fifteen, it was still balmy; by the time it was really hot I would have my bride-and the kitten-indoors. Even if we had to stop at the next farmhouse. Let's see... the Tanguays? Or had the old man sold out by 2177? No matter
I was not worried by my lack of local legal money, my lack of tangible assets of any sort. A beautiful summer day in Iowa leaves no room for worry. I could work and would-spreading manure if that was the sort of work available. And I would soon spread manure of another sort, moonlighting nights and Sundays. In 2177 Evelyn Fingerhut had not yet retired, so pick some new pen names and sell him the same old tripe. The same stories-just file off the serial numbers.
File off the serial numbers, change the body lines a bit. give it a new paint job, switch it over the state line, and it's yours!- that's the secret of literary success. Editors always claim to be looking for new stories but they don't buy them; they buy "mixture as before." Because the cash customers want to be entertained, not amazed, not instructed, not frightened.
If people truly wanted novelty, baseball would have died out two centuries back... instead of being ever popular. What can possibly happen in a baseball game that everyone has not seen many times before? Yet people like to watch baseball- shucks, I'd enjoy seeing a baseball game right now, with hot dogs and beer.
"Hazel, do you enjoy baseball?"
"Never had a chance to find out. When the drugs against acceleration came along, I went dirtside for my law degree but never had time to watch baseball even in the idiot box. I worked my way through law school and was I busy! That was when I was Sadie Lipschitz."
"Why were you? You said you didn't like that name." "Sure you want to know? The answer to 'Why' is always
'Money.'"
"If you want me to know, you'll tell me."
"Scoundrel. That was right after Slim Lemke Stone died and- What in the world is that racket?"
"That's an automobile." I glanced around for the source of the noise.
Starting about 2150 or a little earlier (I saw my first one the year I signed up) supreme swank for an Iowa fanner was to own and drive a working replica of a twentieth-century "automobile" personal transport vehicle. Of course not a vehicle moved by means of internal explosions of a derivative of rock oiclass="underline" Even the People's Republic of South Africa had laws against placing poisons in the air. But with its Shipstone concealed and a sound tape to supply the noise of a soi-disant "1C' engine, the difference between a working replica and a real "automobile" was not readily apparent.
This one was the swankest of all replicas, a Tin Lizzy, a "Ford touring car. Model T, 1914." It was as dignified as Queen Victoria, whom it resembled. And it was Uncle Jock's... as I had suspected when I heard that infernal banging.
I said to Hazel, "Here, you take Pixel and soothe him; he's certainly never heard anything like this. And ease well off to the side of the road; these wagons are erratic." We continued on down the road; the replica pulled alongside us and stopped.
"Need a lift, folks?" Uncle Jock asked. Up close the racket was horrible.
I turned and grinned at him, and answered, mouthing my words so that they couldn't possibly be heard above the noise:
"Four score and seven years ago did gyre and gimble in the wabe."
"How's that again?"
"Billiards will never replace sex, or even tomatoes."
Uncle Jock reached down and switched off the sound effects. I said, "Thanks, Uncle. The noise was scaring our kitten. It's mighty nice of you to turn it off. What were you saying? I couldn't hear you over the engine noise."
"I asked if you wanted a lift."
"Why, thank you. Going into Grinnell?"
"I planned to take you back to the house. Why did you run away?"
"You know why. Did Dr. Hubert or Lazarus Long or whatever name he's using this week put you up to it? If so, why?"
"Introduce me first, if you please, nephew. And pardon me for not getting down, ma'am; this steed is skittish."
"Jock Campbell you old goat, don't you dare pretend that you don't know me! I'll have your rocks for castanets. Believe!"
For the first time that I can remember. Uncle Jock seemed shocked and baffled. "Madam?"
Hazel saw his expression, said hastily, "Are we inverted? I'm sorry. I'm Major Sadie Lipschitz, Time Corps, DOL, assigned to Overlord. I met you first in Boondock about ten of my subjective years ago. You invited me to visit you here, and I did, in year 2186 as I recall. Click?"
"Click, a clear inversion. Major, I'm happy indeed to meet you. But I'm happier still to leam that I will meet you again. I'm looking forward to it."
Hazel answered, "We had a good time, I promise you. I'm married to your nephew now... but you're still an old goat. Get down out of that toy wagon and kiss me like you mean it."
Hastily Uncle unclutched his rotor and got down; Hazel handed Pixel to me, which saved his life. After a while the old goat said, "No, I have not met you before; I could not possibly forget."
Hazel answered, "Yes, I have met you before; I'll never forget. God, it's good to see you again. Jock. You haven't changed. When was your last rejuvenation?"
"Five subjective years ago-just long enough to marinate. But I wouldn't let them youthen my face. When was yours?"
"Same subjective, about. Wasn't due for it yet but I needed cosmetic because I planned to marry your nephew. So I took a booster along with it. Turned out I needed it; he's a goat, too."
"I know. Dickie had to enlist because they were closing in on him from all sides." (An outright lie!) "But are you sure your name is Sadie? That's not the name Lazarus gave me as a test word."
"My name is whatever I want it to be, just as it is with Lazarus. My, I'm glad they moved THQ to your place last night! Kiss me again."
He did and finally I said mildly, "Not on a public road, folks, not in Poweshiek County. This is not Boondock."
"Mind your own business, nephew. Sadie, headquarters was not moved here last night; that was three years ago."
XXVIII
"The majority is never right."
L. LONG 1912-
We rode back to the house, Hazel up front with Uncle Jock, Pixel and me back with the packages. As a favor to Pixel, the replica Model T moved as silently as a ghost. (Do ghosts really move silently? How do such cliches get started?) The gate opened to Uncle Jock's voice and no lethal defenses were actuated. If there were any. Knowing Uncle Jock I suspect that there were-but not the ones posted.