report
everything.
An Observer was merely a sense-perceptive pseudopod thrust out by Eternity into Time. It tested its surroundings and was drawn back. In the fulfillment of his function an Observer had no individuality of his own; he was not really a man.
Almost automatically Harlan began his narration of the events he had left out of his report. He did it with the trained memory of the Observer, reciting the conversations with word-for-word accuracy, reconstructing the tone of voice and cast of countenance. He did it lovingly, for in the telling he lived it again, and almost forgot, in the process, that a combination of Finge’s probing and his own healing sense of duty was driving him into an admission of guilt.
It was only as he approached the end result of that first long conversation that he faltered and the shell of his Observer’s objectivity showed cracks.
He was saved from further details by the hand that Finge suddenly raised and by the Computer’s sharp, edgy voice. “Thank you. It is enough. You were about to say that you made love to the woman.”
Harlan grew angry. What Finge said was the literal truth, but Finge’s tone of voice made it sound lewd, coarse, and, worse than that, commonplace. whatever else it was, or might be, it was not commonplace.
Harlan had an explanation for Finge’s attitude, for his anxious cross-examination, for his breaking off the verbal report at the moment he did. Finge was jealous! That much Harlan would have sworn was obvious. Harlan had succeeded in taking away a girl that Finge had meant to have.
Harlan felt the triumph in that and found it sweet. For the first time in his life he knew an aim that meant more to him than the frigid fulfillment of Eternity. He was going to keep Finge jealous, because Noÿs Lambent was to be permanently his.
In this mood of sudden exaltation he plunged into the request that originally he had planned to present only after a wait of a discreet four or five days.
He said, “It is my intention to apply for permission to form a liaison with a Timed individual.”
Finge seemed to snap out of a reverie. “With Noÿs Lambent, I presume.”
“Yes, sir. As Computer in charge of the Section, it will have to go through you. . . .”
Harlan wanted it to go through Finge. Make him suffer. If he wanted the girl himself, let him say so and Harlan could insist on allowing Noÿs to make her choice. He almost smiled at that. He hoped it would come to that. It would be the final triumph.
Ordinarily, of course, a Technician could not hope to push through such a matter in the face of a Computer’s desires, but Harlan was sure he could count on Twissell’s backing and Finge had a long way to go before he could buck Twissell.
Finge, however, seemed tranquil. “It would seem,” he said, “that you have already taken illegal possession of the girl.”
Harlan flushed and was moved to a feeble defense. “The spatio-temporal chart insisted on our remaining alone together. Since nothing of what happened was specifically forbidden, I feel no guilt.”
Which was a lie, and from Finge’s half-amused expression one could feel that he knew it to be a lie.
He said, “There will be a Reality Change.”
Harlan said, “If so, I will amend my application to request liaison with Miss Lambent in the new Reality.”
“I don’t think that would be wise. How can you be sure in advance? In the new Reality, she may be married, she may be deformed. In fact I can tell you this. In the new Reality, she will not want you. She will
not
want you.”
Harlan quivered. “You know nothing about it.”
“Oh? You think this great love of yours is a matter of soul-to-soul contact? That it will survive all external changes? Have you been reading novels out of Time?”
Harlan was goaded into indiscretion. “For one thing, I don’t believe you.”
Finge said coldly, “I beg pardon.”
“You’re lying.” Harlan didn’t care what he said now. “You’re
everything.
An Observer was merely a sense-perceptive pseudopod thrust out by Eternity into Time. It tested its surroundings and was drawn back. In the fulfillment of his function an Observer had no individuality of his own; he was not really a man.
Almost automatically Harlan began his narration of the events he had left out of his report. He did it with the trained memory of the Observer, reciting the conversations with word-for-word accuracy, reconstructing the tone of voice and cast of countenance. He did it lovingly, for in the telling he lived it again, and almost forgot, in the process, that a combination of Finge’s probing and his own healing sense of duty was driving him into an admission of guilt.
It was only as he approached the end result of that first long conversation that he faltered and the shell of his Observer’s objectivity showed cracks.
He was saved from further details by the hand that Finge suddenly raised and by the Computer’s sharp, edgy voice. “Thank you. It is enough. You were about to say that you made love to the woman.”
Harlan grew angry. What Finge said was the literal truth, but Finge’s tone of voice made it sound lewd, coarse, and, worse than that, commonplace. whatever else it was, or might be, it was not commonplace.
Harlan had an explanation for Finge’s attitude, for his anxious cross-examination, for his breaking off the verbal report at the moment he did. Finge was jealous! That much Harlan would have sworn was obvious. Harlan had succeeded in taking away a girl that Finge had meant to have.
Harlan felt the triumph in that and found it sweet. For the first time in his life he knew an aim that meant more to him than the frigid fulfillment of Eternity. He was going to keep Finge jealous, because Noÿs Lambent was to be permanently his.
In this mood of sudden exaltation he plunged into the request that originally he had planned to present only after a wait of a discreet four or five days.
He said, “It is my intention to apply for permission to form a liaison with a Timed individual.”
Finge seemed to snap out of a reverie. “With Noÿs Lambent, I presume.”
“Yes, sir. As Computer in charge of the Section, it will have to go through you. . . .”
Harlan wanted it to go through Finge. Make him suffer. If he wanted the girl himself, let him say so and Harlan could insist on allowing Noÿs to make her choice. He almost smiled at that. He hoped it would come to that. It would be the final triumph.
Ordinarily, of course, a Technician could not hope to push through such a matter in the face of a Computer’s desires, but Harlan was sure he could count on Twissell’s backing and Finge had a long way to go before he could buck Twissell.
Finge, however, seemed tranquil. “It would seem,” he said, “that you have already taken illegal possession of the girl.”
Harlan flushed and was moved to a feeble defense. “The spatio-temporal chart insisted on our remaining alone together. Since nothing of what happened was specifically forbidden, I feel no guilt.”
Which was a lie, and from Finge’s half-amused expression one could feel that he knew it to be a lie.
He said, “There will be a Reality Change.”
Harlan said, “If so, I will amend my application to request liaison with Miss Lambent in the new Reality.”
“I don’t think that would be wise. How can you be sure in advance? In the new Reality, she may be married, she may be deformed. In fact I can tell you this. In the new Reality, she will not want you. She will
not
want you.”
Harlan quivered. “You know nothing about it.”
“Oh? You think this great love of yours is a matter of soul-to-soul contact? That it will survive all external changes? Have you been reading novels out of Time?”
Harlan was goaded into indiscretion. “For one thing, I don’t believe you.”
Finge said coldly, “I beg pardon.”
“You’re lying.” Harlan didn’t care what he said now. “You’re
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