Time Waits for Winthrop (7 page)

There, in the very center of the field, was Gygyo. A transparent bubble helmet covered his head and he was wearing some sort of thick but flexible one-piece garment over the rest of his body. About a dozen amebae, the apparent size of dogs, swarmed about, reaching for him with blunt, glassy pseudopods. He hacked away at them with a great two-handed sword in tremendous sweeps that cut in two the most venturesome and persistent of the creatures. But Mary Ann could see from his frantic breathing that he was getting tired. Every once in a while, he glanced rapidly over his left shoulder as if keeping watch on something in the distance.

“Where does he get air from?” she asked.

“The suit always contains enough oxygen for the duration of the lock,” Flureet’s voice explained behind her, sounding somewhat surprised at the question. “He has about five minutes to go, and I think he’ll make it. He’ll probably be shaken up enough, though, to—Did you see
that?
”

Mary Ann gasped. An elongated, spindle-shaped creature which ended in a thrashing whiplike streak had just darted across the field, well over Gygyo’s head. It was half again his size. He had gone into a crouch as it passed and the amebae surrounding him had also leaped away. They were back at the attack in a moment, however, once the danger had passed. Very wearily now, he continued to chop at them.

“What
was
it?”

“A trypanosome. It went by too fast for me to identify it, but it looked like either
Trypanosoma gambiense
or
rhodesiense
—the African sleeping sickness protozoans. No, it was a bit too big to be either of them, now that I remember. It could have been—Oh, the fool!”

Mary Ann turned to her, genuinely frightened. “What did he do?”

“He neglected to get a pure culture, that’s what. Taking on several different kinds of intestinal amebae is wild enough, but if there are trypanosomes in there with him, then there might be anything! And him down to 35 microns!”

R
emembering the worried glances that Gygyo had thrown over his shoulder, Mary Ann swung back to the microscope. The man was still fighting desperately, but the strokes of the sword came much more slowly. Suddenly another ameba, different from those attacking Gygyo, swam into the field. It was almost transparent and about half his size.

“That’s a new one,” she told Flureet. “Is it dangerous?”

‘No,
Iodamoeba butschlii
is just a sluggish, friendly lump. But what in the world is Gygyo afraid of to his left? He keeps turning his head as if—
Oh
.”

The last exclamation came out almost as a simple comment, so completely was it weighted with despair. An oval monster—its length three times and its width fully twice Gygyo’s height—shot into the field from the left boundary as if making a stage entrance in reply to her question. The tiny hairlike appendages with which it was covered seemed to give it fantastic speed.

Gygyo’s sword slashed at it, but it swerved aside and out of the field. It was back in a moment, coming down like a dive bomber. Gygyo and his other attackers leaped away, but one of the amebae was a little too slow. It disappeared, struggling madly, down the funnel-shaped mouth which indented the forward end of the egg-shaped horror.

“
Balantidium coli
,” Flureet explained, “100 microns long, 65 microns wide. Fast and deadly and terribly hungry. I was afraid he’d hit something like this sooner or later. Well, that’s the end of our micro-hunting friend. He’ll never be able to avoid it long enough to get out. And he can’t kill a bug that size.”

“Can’t you do something?” Mary Ann pleaded shakily.

The bald woman brought her eyes down from the ceiling at last. Making what seemed an intense effort, she focused them on the girl. They were lit with bright astonishment.

“What can I do? He’s locked inside that culture for another four minutes. Do you expect me to go in there and
rescue
him?”

“If you can—of course!”

“But that would be interfering with his sovereign rights as an individual! My dear girl, even if his wish to destroy himself is unconscious, it is still a wish originating in an essential part of his personality and must be respected. The whole thing is covered by the Subsidiary Rights Covenant of—”

“How do you
know
he wants to destroy himself?” Mary Ann wept. “I never heard of such a thing! He’s supposed to be a—a friend of yours! Maybe he just accidentally got himself into more trouble than he expected and he can’t get out. I’m positive that’s what happened. Oh—poor Gygyo, while we’re standing here talking, he’s getting
killed!
”

F
lureet considered. “You may have a legitimate argument. He
is
a romantic and associating with you has given him all sorts of swaggering adventure-some notions. He’d never have done anything as risky as this before. But tell me: do you think it’s worth taking a chance of interfering with sovereign individual rights, just to save the life of an old and dear friend?”

“I don’t
understand
you,” Mary Ann said helplessly. “Of
course!
Why don’t you let me—just do whatever you have to and send me in there after him.
Please!
”

The other woman rose and shook her head. “No, I think I’d be more effective. I must say this romanticism is catching. And,” she laughed to herself, “just a little intriguing. You people in the twentieth century led such lives!”

She turned some switch and shrank down swiftly. Just as she disappeared, there was a whispering movement, like a flame curving from a candle, and her body seemed to streak toward the microscope.

Gygyo was down on one knee now, trying to present as small a target to the oval monster as possible. The amebae had either all fled or been swallowed. He was swinging the sword back and forth rapidly over his head as the
Balantidium coli
swooped down first on one side, then on the other, but he looked very tired. His lips were clenched together, his eyes squinting with desperation.

And then the huge creature came straight down, feinted with its body, and, as he lunged at it with the sword, swerved slightly and hit him from the rear. Gygyo fell, losing his weapon.

Hairy appendages churning, the monster spun around so that its funnel-shaped mouth was in front and came streaking back for the kill.

An enormous hand, a hand the size of Gygyo’s whole body, swung into view and knocked the beast to one side. Gygyo scrambled to his feet, regained the sword and looked up unbelievingly. He exhaled with relief and then smiled. Flureet had evidently stopped her shrinkage at a size several times larger than a hundred microns. Her body was not visible in the microscope to Mary Ann, but it was obviously far too visible to the
Balantidium coli
, which turned and scudded away.

And for the remaining minutes of the lock, there was not a creature which seemed even vaguely inclined to wander into Gygyo’s neighborhood.

To Mary Ann’s astonishment, Flureet’s first words to Gygyo when they reappeared beside her at their full height were an apology: “I’m truly sorry, but your fire-eating friend here got me all excited about your safety, Gygyo. If you want to bring me up on charges of violating the Covenant and interfering with an individual’s carefully prepared plans for self-destruction—”

G
ygyo waved her to silence. “Forget it. In the words of the past: Covenant, Shmovenant. You saved my life and, as far as I know, I wanted it saved. If I started proceedings against you for interfering with my unconscious, in all fairness we’d have to subpoena my conscious mind as a witness in your defense. The case could drag on for months and I’m far too busy.”

“You’re right,” the bald woman agreed. “There’s nothing like a schizoid lawsuit when it comes to complications and verbal quibbling. But all the same, I’m grateful to you—I didn’t
have
to go and save your life. I don’t know quite what got into me.”

“That’s what got into you.” Gygyo gestured at Mary Ann. “The century of regimentation, of total war, of massive meddling. I know: it’s contagious.”

Mary Ann exploded. “Well, really! I never in my life—I just can’t believe it! First she doesn’t want to save your life, because it would be interfering with your unconscious—your
unconscious!
Then, when she finally does something about it, she apologizes to you—she
apologizes!
And instead of thanking her, you talk as if you’re excusing her for—for committing assault and battery! And then you start insulting
me
and—”

“I’m sorry,” Gygyo said. “I didn’t intend to insult you, Mary Ann, neither you nor your century. After all, we must remember that it was the first century of modern times, the crisis-sickness from which recovery began. And it was in very many ways a truly great and adventuresome period in which Man, for the last time, dared things which he has never since attempted.”

“Well. In that case.” Mary Ann swallowed and began to feel better. And at that moment, she saw Gygyo and Flureet exchange the barest hint of a smile. She stopped feeling better. Damn these people! Who did they think they were?

Flureet moved to the yellow square exit. “I just stopped in to say good-by before my transformation. Wish me luck, Gygyo.”

“Your transformation? So soon? Well, all the best, of course. It’s been good knowing you, Flureet.”

When the woman had left, Mary Ann looked at Gygyo’s deeply concerned face and asked hesitantly: “What does she mean ‘transformation’? And she said it was a
major
transformation. What’s she talking about?”

The dark-haired young man studied the wall for a moment. “I’d better not,” he said at last, mostly to himself. “That’s one of the concepts you’d find upsetting, like our active food, for instance. And speaking of food, I’m hungry. Hungry, do you hear?
Hungry!
”

A
section of the wall shook violently as his voice rose. It protruded an arm of itself at him. A tray was balanced on the end of the arm. Still standing, Gygyo began to eat from the tray.

He didn’t offer Mary Ann any, which, as far as she was concerned, was just as well. She had seen at a glance that it was the purple spaghettilike stuff of which he was so terribly fond.

Maybe it tasted good. Maybe it didn’t. She’d never know. She only knew that she could never bring herself to eat anything which writhed up toward one’s mouth and wriggled about cozily once it was inside.

That was another thing about this world. The things these people
ate!

Gygyo glanced up and saw her face. “I wish you’d try it just once, Mary Ann,” he said wistfully. “It would add a whole new dimension to food for you. In addition to flavor, texture and aroma, you’d experience
motility
. Think of it: food not just lying there limp and lifeless in your mouth, but food expressing eloquently its desire to be eaten. Even your friend Winthrop, culinary esthete that he is, admitted to me the other day that Centaurian
libal
has it all over his favorite food symphonies in many ways. You see, they can adjust their flavor to the dietary wishes of the person consuming them. That way, you get—”

“
Please!
It makes me absolutely and completely sick even to think of it.”

“All right.” He finished eating, nodded at the wall, which withdrew the arm and sucked the tray back into itself. “I give up. All I wanted was to have you sample the stuff before you left.”

“Leaving—that’s what I came to see you about. We’re having trouble.”

“I was hoping you’d come to see me for myself alone,” he said with a disconsolate droop of his head.

She couldn’t tell whether he was being funny or serious, so she got angry as the easiest way of handling the situation. “See here, Gygyo Rablin, you are the very last man on Earth—past, present or future—that I ever want to see again. And you know why! Any man who—who says things to a girl like you s-said to m-me, and at s-such a t-time…”

Against her will, and to her extreme annoyance, her voice broke. Tears tickled their way down her face. She set her lips determinedly and tried to shake them away.

G
ygyo looked really uncomfortable now. He sat down on a corner of the desk, which twitched under him more erratically than ever.

“I am sorry, Mary Ann. Truly, terribly, sincerely sorry. I should never have made love to you in the first place. Even without our substantial temporal and cultural differences, I’m certain you know as well as I do that we have precious little in common. But I found you—well, exciting like no woman in my own time, or any woman that I’ve ever encountered in a visit to the future. Bizarre—earthy—violently female. I just couldn’t resist the attraction. The one thing I didn’t anticipate was the depressing effect your peculiar cosmetics would have upon me. The actual tactile sensations were extremely upsetting.”

“That’s not what you said. And the
way
you said it! You rubbed your finger on my face and lips, and you went: ‘
Grea-sy! Grea-sy!
’” Thoroughly in control of herself now, she mimicked him viciously.

Gygyo shrugged. “I said I’m sorry and I meant it. But if you only knew how that stuff feels to a highly educated tactile sense! That smeary red lipstick—that tinted grit on your cheeks! There’s no excuse for me, that I’ll grant, but I’m just trying to make you understand why I erupted so stupidly.”

“I suppose you think I’d be a lot nicer if I shaved my head like some of these women—like that horrible Flureet!”

He smiled and shook his head. “You couldn’t be like them and they couldn’t be like you. There are entirely different concepts of womanhood and beauty involved. In your period, the greatest emphasis is on a kind of physical similarity, whereas we place the accent on difference, but most particularly on
emotional
difference. The more emotions a woman can exhibit and the more complex they are, the more striking is she considered. That’s the point of the shaved heads: to show suddenly appearing subtle wrinkles that might be missed if the area were covered with hair. We call Woman’s bald head her Frowning Glory.”