morning on the island of Oahu, we can snatch most of the crew of the Battleship
Arizona
, but then those three hours are closed to us forever. If something interesting is happening during those same hours in China, or in Amsterdam, or even on Mars, it’s just too damn bad. We can’t even see the events of those hours in the time scanners.
This results in another paradox. The timestream is littered with these blank areas. Most of them were the result of snatches we’d done, or time traveling done by people who came before us. But some were the result of trips yet to be taken. In other words, in a few years or a few days somebody would decide it was worth our effort to go to those times, at a location we didn’t know yet. Because we
would
take that trip, that stretch of time was closed to scanning.
The phenomenon was known as Temporal Censorship. We couldn’t look back and see ourselves and thus find out what we would do. We could know a blank area existed and that nobody had yet visited that time, but we couldn’t know
why
somebody would decide to go there.
If you think all this makes sense to me, you’re giving me toomuch credit. I simply take the rules as they are handed to me and do the best I can.
My right arm was useless. I can’t say it hurt much by then. It simply wasn’t there. So I ignored it and pulled the goats by winding the fingers of my left hand into their hair—a trick known in the trade as Excedrin Headache number one million B.C.
Finally the Gate appeared and we practically shoveled them through. It took three minutes, tops. As soon as that was done the Gate vanished again. It came back on almost instantly and the wimps started to pour through.
No more than five percent of these had faces. Flight 35 was going to hit so goddam hard there was little point in expending our best work on them. A lot of them came through in sacks, just bundles of burnt body parts which we scattered through the plane.
I guess I passed out. All I know for sure is somebody pushed me through the Gate and, for once, I didn’t recall the trip. I sat there on the floor and the medical teams started to lift me onto a stretcher, but I waved them away. Something was bothering me. I saw Lilly step through.
“Who got Ralph’s stunner?” I yelled.
Lilly looked at me oddly, then turned around. But she didn’t get anywhere; the rest of the team came tumbling out behind her and she was sent sprawling on the floor not far from me.
“I thought you got it,” she said.
“I didn’t get it,” I said.
“Get what?”
“Ralph? Did somebody say Ralph? He’s dead.”
“Where’s his stunner?”
I was already up and running for the Gate. I had no idea how much time there was on the other side before the crash, but it didn’t matter. Even if it was seconds I had to go back.
A warning horn sounded. I glanced up, thought I could see Lawrence frantically waving his hands behind the glassed-in Operationssection overhead. I turned back and screamed something, but Lilly was already through.
Or at least she was half through.
An odd thing happened to her. Leaning forward, she was into the Gate with her head and shoulders, almost to the waist.
And the Gate shut down.
We had discussed what might happen in a case like that, but we didn’t know because nobody had tried it. The theory was unclear. It seemed certain that a body halfway through the Gate would not simply be cut in half. The process was much more complex than that. When passing through the Gate one is never actually in two pieces. The integrity of the body is preserved through a dimension we can’t sense.
Lilly did not get cut in half. She vanished. As she did, the building shook as if from an explosion. Alarms began sounding.
I was picked up and put on a stretcher. I could see frantic activity in Operations. Then I passed out.
I was brought up to date as the doctors fixed my shoulder.
The explosion I heard had resulted from Lilly’s body overloading the power
Arizona
, but then those three hours are closed to us forever. If something interesting is happening during those same hours in China, or in Amsterdam, or even on Mars, it’s just too damn bad. We can’t even see the events of those hours in the time scanners.
This results in another paradox. The timestream is littered with these blank areas. Most of them were the result of snatches we’d done, or time traveling done by people who came before us. But some were the result of trips yet to be taken. In other words, in a few years or a few days somebody would decide it was worth our effort to go to those times, at a location we didn’t know yet. Because we
would
take that trip, that stretch of time was closed to scanning.
The phenomenon was known as Temporal Censorship. We couldn’t look back and see ourselves and thus find out what we would do. We could know a blank area existed and that nobody had yet visited that time, but we couldn’t know
why
somebody would decide to go there.
If you think all this makes sense to me, you’re giving me toomuch credit. I simply take the rules as they are handed to me and do the best I can.
My right arm was useless. I can’t say it hurt much by then. It simply wasn’t there. So I ignored it and pulled the goats by winding the fingers of my left hand into their hair—a trick known in the trade as Excedrin Headache number one million B.C.
Finally the Gate appeared and we practically shoveled them through. It took three minutes, tops. As soon as that was done the Gate vanished again. It came back on almost instantly and the wimps started to pour through.
No more than five percent of these had faces. Flight 35 was going to hit so goddam hard there was little point in expending our best work on them. A lot of them came through in sacks, just bundles of burnt body parts which we scattered through the plane.
I guess I passed out. All I know for sure is somebody pushed me through the Gate and, for once, I didn’t recall the trip. I sat there on the floor and the medical teams started to lift me onto a stretcher, but I waved them away. Something was bothering me. I saw Lilly step through.
“Who got Ralph’s stunner?” I yelled.
Lilly looked at me oddly, then turned around. But she didn’t get anywhere; the rest of the team came tumbling out behind her and she was sent sprawling on the floor not far from me.
“I thought you got it,” she said.
“I didn’t get it,” I said.
“Get what?”
“Ralph? Did somebody say Ralph? He’s dead.”
“Where’s his stunner?”
I was already up and running for the Gate. I had no idea how much time there was on the other side before the crash, but it didn’t matter. Even if it was seconds I had to go back.
A warning horn sounded. I glanced up, thought I could see Lawrence frantically waving his hands behind the glassed-in Operationssection overhead. I turned back and screamed something, but Lilly was already through.
Or at least she was half through.
An odd thing happened to her. Leaning forward, she was into the Gate with her head and shoulders, almost to the waist.
And the Gate shut down.
We had discussed what might happen in a case like that, but we didn’t know because nobody had tried it. The theory was unclear. It seemed certain that a body halfway through the Gate would not simply be cut in half. The process was much more complex than that. When passing through the Gate one is never actually in two pieces. The integrity of the body is preserved through a dimension we can’t sense.
Lilly did not get cut in half. She vanished. As she did, the building shook as if from an explosion. Alarms began sounding.
I was picked up and put on a stretcher. I could see frantic activity in Operations. Then I passed out.
I was brought up to date as the doctors fixed my shoulder.
The explosion I heard had resulted from Lilly’s body overloading the power
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