Second Variety and Other Stories (14 page)

Ryan threw the power switch. Outside, the remaining soldiers fought through the flame to the side
of the ship. Ryan could see their faces through the port, seared and scorched by the blast.

One man raised his gun awkwardly. Most of them were down, rolling and struggling to rise. As
the scene dimmed and faded he saw one of them crawling to his knees. The man's clothing was on fire.
Smoke billowed from him, from his arms and shoulders. His face was contorted with pain. He reached
out, toward the ship, reaching up at Ryan, his hands shaking, his body bent.

Suddenly Ryan froze.

He was still staring fixedly when the scene winked out and there was nothing. Nothing at all. The
meters changed reading. Across the time map the arms moved calmly, tracing their lines.

In the last moment Ryan had looked directly into the man's face. The pain-contorted face. The
features had been twisted, screwed up out of shape. And the horn-rimmed glasses were gone. But there
was no doubt -- it was Schonerman.

Ryan sat down. He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"You're certain?" Kastner said.

"Yes. He must have come out of the sleep very quickly. It reacts differently on each person. And
he was at the far end of the room. He must have come out of it and followed after us."

"Was he badly injured?"

"I don't know."

Kastner opened his briefcase. "Anyhow, we have the papers."

Ryan nodded, only half hearing. Schonerman injured, blasted, his clothing on fire. That had not
been part of the plan.

But more important --had it been part of history?

For ftie first time the ramification of what they had done was beginning to emerge in his mind.
Their own concern had been to obtain Schonerman's papers, so that USIC could make use of the
artificial brain. Properly used, Schonerman's discovery could have great value in aiding the restoration of
demolished Terra. Armies of worker-robots replanting and rebuilding. A mechanical army to make Terra
fertile again. Robots could do in a generation what humans would toil at for years. Terra could be reborn.

But in returning to the past had they introduced new factors? Had a new past been created? Had
some kind of balance been upset?

Ryan stood up and paced back and forth.

"What is it?" Kastner said. "We got the papers."

"I know."

"USIC will be pleased. The League can expect aid from now on. Whatever it wants. This will set
up USIC forever. After all, USIC will manufacture the robots. Worker-robots. The end of human labor.
Machines instead of men to work the ground."

Ryan nodded. "Fine."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I'm worried about our continuum."

"What are you worried about?"

Ryan crossed to the control board and studied the time map. The ship was moving back toward
the present, the arms tracing a path back. "I'm worried about new factors we may have introduced into
past continuums. There's no record of Schonerman being injured. There's no record of this event. It may
have set a different causal chain into motion."

Ryan crossed to the control board and studied the time map. The ship was moving back toward
the present, the arms tracing a path back. "I'm worried about new factors we may have introduced into
past continuums. There's no record of Schonerman being injured. There's no record of this event. It may
have set a different causal chain into motion."

"I don't know. But I intend to find out. We're going to make a stop right away and discover what
new factors we've set into motion."

Ryan moved the ship into a continuum immediately following the Schonerman incident. It was
early October, a little over a week later. He landed the ship in a farmer's field outside of Des Moines,
Iowa, at sunset. A cold autumn night with the ground hard and brittle underfoot.

Ryan and Kastner walked into town, Kastner holding tightly onto his briefcase. Des Moines had
been bombed by Russian guided missiles. Most of the industrial sections were gone. Only military men
and construction workers still remained in the city. The civilian population had been evacuated.

Animals roamed around the deserted streets, looking for food. Glass and debris lay everywhere.
The city was cold and desolate. The streets were gutted and wrecked from the fires following the
bombing. The autumn air was heavy with the decaying smells of vast heaps of rubble and bodies mixed
together in mounds at intersections and open lots.

From a boarded-up newsstand Ryan stole a copy of a news magazine, Week Review. The
magazine was damp and covered with mold. Kastner put it into his briefcase and they returned to the
time ship. Occasional soldiers passed them, moving weapons and equipment out of the city. No one
challenged them.

They reached the time ship and entered, locking the hatch behind them. The fields around them
were deserted. The farm building had been burned down, and the crops were withered and dead. In the
driveway the remains of a ruined automobile lay on its side, a charred wreck. A group of ugly pigs nosed
around the remains of the farmhouse, searching for something to eat.

Ryan sat down, opened the magazine. He studied it for a long time, turning the damp pages
slowly.

"What do you see?" Kastner asked.

"All about the war. It's still in the opening stages. Soviet guided missiles dropping down.
American disk bombs showering all over Russia."

"Any mention of Schonerman?"

"Nothing I can find. Too much else going on." Ryan went on studying the magazine. Finally, on
one of the back pages, he found what he was looking for. A small item, only a paragraph long.

SOVIET AGENTS SURPRISED

A group of Soviet agents, attempting to demolish a Government research station at Harristown,
Kansas, were fired on by guards and quickly routed. The agents escaped, after attempting to slip past the
guards into the work offices of the station. Passing themselves off as FBI men, the Soviet agents tried to gain
entry as the early morning shift was beginning work. Alert guards intercepted them and gave chase. No
damage was done to the research labs or equipment. Two guards and one worker were killed in the
encounter. The names of the guards

Ryan clutched the magazine.

"What is it?" Kastner hurried over.

Ryan read the rest of the article. He laid down the magazine, pushing it slowly towards Kastner.

"What is it?" Kastner searched the page.

"Schonerman died. Killed by the blast. We killed him. We've changed the past."

Ryan stood up and walked to the port. He lit a cigarette, some of his composure returning. "We
set up new factors and started a new line of events. There's no telling where it will end."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone else may discover the artificial brain. Maybe the shift will rectify itself. The time flow
will resume its regular course."

will resume its regular course."

"I don't know. As it stands, we killed him and stole his papers. There's no way the Government
can get hold of his work. They won't even know it ever existed. Unless someone else does the same
work, covers the same material --"

"How will we know?"

"We'll have to take more looks. It's the only way to find out."

Ryan selected the year 2051.

In 2051 the first claws had begun to appear. The Soviets had almost won the war. The UN was
beginning to bring out the claws in the last desperate attempt to turn the tide of the war.

Ryan landed the time ship at the top of a ridge. Below them a level plain stretched out,
criss-crossed with ruins and barbed wire and the remains of weapons.

Kastner unscrewed the hatch and stepped gingerly out onto the ground.

"Be careful," Ryan said. "Remember the claws."

Kastner drew his blast gun. "I'll remember."

"At this stage they were small. About a foot long. Metal. They hid down in the ash. The
humanoid types hadn't come into existence, yet."

The sun was high in the sky. It was about noon. The air was warm and thick. Clouds of ash
rolled across the ground, blown by the wind.

Suddenly Kastner tensed. "Look. What's that? Coming along the road."

A truck bumped slowly toward them, a heavy brown truck, loaded with soldiers. The truck
made its way along the road to i the base of the ridge. Ryan drew his blast gun. He and Kastner stood
ready.

The truck stopped. Some of the soldiers leaped down and started up the side of the ridge,
striding through the ash.

"Get set," Ryan murmured.

The soldiers reached them, halted a few feet away. Ryan and Kastner stood silently, their blast
guns up.

One of the soldiers laughed. "Put them away. Don't you know the war's over?"

"Over?"

The soldiers relaxed. Their leader, a big man with a red face, wiped sweat from his dirty
forehead and pushed his way up to Ryan. His uniform was ragged and dirty. He wore boots, split and
caked with ash. "That war's been over for a week. Come on! There's a lot to do. We'll take you on
back."

"Back?"

"We're rounding up all the outposts. You were cut off? No communications?"

"No," Ryan said.

"Be months before everyone knows the war's over. Come along. No time to stand here jawing."

Ryan shifted. "Tell me. You say the war is really over? But --"

"Good thing, too. We couldn't have lasted much longer." The officer tapped his belt. "You don't
by any chance have a cigarette, do you?"

Ryan brought out his pack slowly. He took the cigarettes from it and handed them to the officer,
crumpling the pack carefully and restoring it to his pocket.

"Thanks." The officer passed the cigarettes around to his men. They lit up. "Yes, it's a good thing.
We were almost finished."

Kastner's mouth opened. "The claws. What about the claws?"

The officer scowled. "What?"

"Why did the war end so -- so suddenly?"

"Counter-revolution in the Soviet Union. We had been dropping agents and material for months.
Never thought anything would come of it, though. They were a lot weaker than anyone realized."

"Then the war's really ended?"

"Then the war's really ended?"

"Planted? Crops?"

"Of course. What would you plant?"

Ryan pulled away. "Let me get this straight. The war is over. No more fighting. And you know
nothing about any claws? Any kind of weapon called claws?"

The officer's face wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"Mechanical killers. Robots. As a weapon."

The circle of soldiers drew back a little. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"You better explain," the officer said, his face suddenly hard. "What's this about claws?"

"No weapon was ever developed along those lines?" Kastner asked.

There was silence. Finally one of the soldiers grunted. "I think I know what he means. He means
Dowling's mine."

Ryan turned. "What?"

"An English physicist. He's been experimenting with artificial mines, self-governing. Robot mines.
But the mines couldn't repair themselves. So the Government abandoned the project and increased its
propaganda work instead."

"That's why the war's over," the officer said. He started off. "Let's go."

The soldiers trailed after him, down the side of the ridge.

"Coming?" The officer halted, looking back at Ryan and Kastner.

"We'll be along later," Ryan said. "We have to get our equipment together."

"All right. The camp is down the road about half a mile. There's a settlement there. People
coming back from the Moon."

"From the Moon?"

"We had started moving units to Luna, but now there isn't any need. Maybe it's a good thing.
Who the hell wants to leave Terra?"

"Thanks for the cigarettes," one the soldiers called back. The soldiers piled in the back of the
truck. The officer slid behind the wheel. The truck started up and continued on its way, rumbling along
the road.

Ryan and Kastner watched it go.

"Then Schonerman's death was never balanced," Ryan murmured. "A whole new past --"

"I wonder how far the change carries. I wonder if it carries up to our own time."

"There's only one way to find out."

Kastner nodded. "I want to know right away. The sooner the better. Let's get started."

Ryan nodded, deep in thought. "The sooner the better."

They entered the time ship. Kastner sat down with his briefcase. Ryan adjusted the controls.
Outside the port the scene winked out of existence. They were in the time flow again, moving toward the
present.

Ryan's face was grim. "I can't believe it. The whole structure of the past changed. An entire new
chain set in motion. Expanding through every continuum. Altering more and more of our stream."

"Then it won't be our present, when we get back. There's no telling how different it will be. All
stemming from Schonerman's death. A whole new history set in motion from one incident."

"Not from Schonerman's death," Ryan corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"Not from his death but from the loss of his papers. Because Schonerman died the Government
didn't obtain a successful methodology by which they could build an artificial brain. Therefore the claws
never came into existence."

"It's the same thing."

"Is it?"

Kastner looked up quickly. "Explain."

"Schonerman's death is of no importance. The loss of his papers to the Government is the
determining factor." Ryan pointed at Kastner's briefcase. "Where are the papers? In there. We have
them."