The Two Timers by Bob Shaw

time. He also discovered,

and was mildly surprised, that John's memory of their common boyhood was

much more detailed and complete than his own. Several times he argued with

John about the authenticity of some detail until the relevant compartment

of his mind seemed to open suddenly, admitting the varicolored stains

of memory, and he realized John had been right.

A tentative explanation reached by Jack was that memories were reinforced

by repetition of the act of recall -- and, at some time during the past

nine years, John Breton had begun to live in the past. Some dissatisfaction

with the shape of his life in the Time B world had led him to draw on the

stored comforts of a bygone era.

Even in the short time he had been in the house Jack had noticed

John's obsessive interest in old movies, the way in which he invariably

compared people to the old-time actors and actresses. Photographs of

Thirties-style cars with their tiny vertical windshields were hung

around the basement workshop. ("I'd love to drive one of those myopic

old things," John had said. "Can't you smell the dust in those big

cloth-covered seats?") And when he had lifted himself clear of the past,

he avoided the human realities of the present, sinking his mind into the

engineering and commercial disciplines of running the Breton Consultancy.

Jack Breton received the up-to-date details of the business gratefully

-- he was going to need all available information when the time came for

him to take over. It also gave him the opportunity to establish one fact

which was vital to his plan. . . .

"Gravimetric surveying has become impossible, of course," John was saying

after lunch. "The Bureau of Standards came right out and said it this

morning -- the force of gravity is decreasing. It always did fluctuate,

and I'm willing to bet we're simply on the downward slope of a more

massive variation than usual, but all the same, it's funny the news

broadcasts don't make more of it. I mean, there's nothing more basic

than gravity. Perhaps there's been a clamp-down of some kind."

"I doubt it," Jack said absently, thinking of Kate upstairs in the same

house, perhaps in the bedroom adjusting her plumage.

"At least my gravimeters are all right. Carl and I were worried. Did you

have him in your setup? Carl Tougher?"

"Yes. Hetty and he took over the business." Kate might be moving naked

through the guilty afternoon twilight of closed blinds.

"It wouldn't have mattered too much about the gravimeters, luckily. There

was a time when a gravimeter, a theodolite and a couple of ex-Army Dumpy

levels were just about all the capital equipment I had. That was before

I started accepting bore-hole contracts and some large-bore work."

Jack's interest was suddenly aroused. "How about these new non-physical

drills? The matter disrupter gadgets? Do you use those?"

"Got three of them," John replied warmly. "We use them for all the

large-bore drilling. Carl doesn't like them because they don't have a

coring facility, but they're fast and clean. You can sink a two-foot

hole through any kind of strata, and it all comes up as micro-dust."

"I've never seen one in action," Jack said with deliberate

wistfulness. "Are there any sites close to town?"

"The nearest is about twenty miles north of here on the main route to

Silverstream." John sounded doubtful. "I don't see how you could get

out there, though. People are going to start wondering if they see two

of us walking around."

"But that situation's going to be corrected soon."

"Is it?" John Breton was instantly suspicious, and Jack wondered if he

had any inkling of the fate planned for him.

"Of course," he said quickly. "You and Kate are bound to reach a decision

any time now. In fact, I don't see what's taking you so long. Why don't

you admit that you're sick to death of each other, and get it over with?"

"Has Kate said anything to you?"

"No," Jack replied cautiously, not wanting to precipitate a