Donald Keith

“ Kersey's face was scarlet. "You young greenshoot! Who do you think you are? You'll work for nothing, if we say so."
"Guess again," Jeff said. "Your slave trader won't be bringing any more engineers for you. So you take me at my price—or nobody."
The big man laughed. "You got rid of Snader, eh? Well, well. He was a rogue. I thought he would run into trouble soon or late."
Kersey swore, but Bullen seemed to grasp the situation and waved him to silence. "I like your fire, young man. With chromatics, we'll make millions, so you're worth forty thousand plus royalties. ”

“ Snader said proudly. "His name—Jeff Elliott. Fine sharp. Best in his circuit. He brings his lifemate, too. Ann Elliott."
The old man rubbed his smooth hands together. "Prime! I wish joy," he said to Ann and Jeff. "I'm Septo Kersey. Come in. Bullen's waiting."
He led them into a spacious drawing room with great windows looking out on the lights of the city. There was a leather chair in a corner, and in it sat a heavy man with a grim mouth. He made no move, but grunted a perfunctory "Wish joy" when Kersey introduced them. His cold eyes studied Jeff while Kersey seated them in big chairs. ”

“ Jeff lay there and put his hands behind his head. "I doubt if I'm ready. I'm comfortable here. By the way, how did you know where I was?"
"No problem. When we read in this morning's newspapers about a man claiming to be a time traveler, we knew."
"All right. Now start explaining. Until I understand where I am, Bullen isn't getting me out of here."
The lawyer smiled and sat down. "Mr. Kersey told you yesterday—you've gone back six years. But you'll need some mental gymnastics to understand. Time is a dimension, not a stream of events like a movie film. A film never changes. ”

“ Another lighted room grew out of the tunnel on the screen, and when they had flickered through it, another and then another.
"Mr. Snader," Ann said unsteadily, "how long—how many years back are you taking us?"
Snader was humming to himself. "Six years. Station 725 fine place to stop."
For a little while, Jeff let himself think it might be true. "Six years ago, your dad was alive," he mused to Ann. "If this should somehow be real, we could see him again."
"We could if we went to our house. He lived with us then, remember? Would we see ourselves, six years younger? ”

“ At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table. Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.
"You're still the smartest color engineer in television," Ann told Jeff as they dallied with their food. "You'll bounce back. Now eat your supper."
"This beanery is too noisy and hot," he grumbled. "I can't eat. Can't talk. Can't think." He took a silver pillbox from his pocket and fumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red and yellow ones were sleeping capsules. ”

“ They are well understood in your time, are they not?"
"What's chromatics? Color television?"
"Exactly. You are an expert in—ah—colored television, I think."
Jeff nodded. "So what?"
The old man beamed at him. "You are here to work for our company. You will enable us to be first with chromatics in this time wave."
Jeff stood up. "Don't tell me who I'll work for."
Bullen slapped a big fist on the arm of his chair. "No fog about this! You're bought and paid for, Elliott! You'll get a fair labor contract, but you do what I say!"
"Why, the man thinks he owns you." Ann laughed shakily. ”

“ Men who work there don't return—they help build back the time groove."
Ann smiled triumphantly. "Good for you! He deserved it. Imagine running a commercial kidnaping enterprise! And now we can ride home, can't we?"
Jeff, beginning to enjoy himself, shook his head. "Not just yet. First I've got a date with Mr. Bullen."
When they rapped on Bullen's door, Kersey welcomed them with an amused smile.
"We thought you would be back," he purred. "Where is Snader?"
Jeff brushed past him to the drawing room, where Bullen sat by the window.
"I've decided to help you, Bullen," Jeff said. ”

“ Bullen said. "This isn't the way I like to recruit. But it was only way to get a man with your knowledge."
Kersey said politely, "You are here illegally, with no immigrate permit or citizen file. Therefore you cannot get work. But Mr. Bullen has taken an interest in your trouble. Through his influence, you can make a living. We even set aside an apartment in this building for you to live in. You are really very luxe, do you see?"
Jeff's legs felt weak. These highbinders seemed brutally confident. He wondered how he and Ann would find their way home through the strange streets. ”

“ Either work for Bullen or live out your life in a mental institution. No one else will give you work and no one will believe your story."
Jeff clamped his teeth. If a crook like Snader could move freely back and forth in time, there must be a way for Jeff to do it. Meanwhile, he would pretend to be a humble and obedient servant.
"Okay," he said to the lawyer. "I'm convinced. Get me out."
"Snader is waiting with a car," the man said. "He'll meet you and your wife outside. I'll free her at once, then go about my business."
Snader was standing beside the limousine. He looked Ann up and down. ”

“ Bullen laughed again. "You're solid, my boy. Get his work papers ready, Kersey. These young people want to get home. I'll take Jeff to the factory when he comes workward in the morning."
Jeff stood up. "See you tomorrow, Bullen. Come on, Ann. We're going home—home to our own time." ”

“ Jeff said cheerfully. A plan was taking shape in his mind. "All I'm worried about is my speed-up pills. Can I get some at the station? I'm almost out." He pressed Ann's knee warningly.
"Speed-up pills?" Snader looked suspicious—but then, he always did. "What you mean?"
"Don't you have speed-up tablets?" Jeff put surprise in his voice. "Stuff to activate the half of the brain that normally doesn't work. You must have them."
"What they look like?"
Jeff fumbled for his silver pillbox. "They're the big red and yellow capsules." He handed the box to Snader. "Don't spill them. ”

“ Too complicated." He flashed his white teeth. "You think time travel not possible. Just like television not possible to your grandfather."
Ann said, "Why invite us? We're not rich enough for expensive trips."
"Invite many people," Snader said quickly. "Not expensive. You know Missing Persons lists, from police? Dozens people disappear. They go with me to other time. Many stay."
"Oh, sure," Jeff said. "But how do you select the ones to invite?"
"Find ones like you, Mr. Elliott. Ones who want change, escape."
Jeff was slightly startled. How did this fellow know his name was Elliott? ”

“ Well, if you go to a place in three-dimensional space—say, a lake in the mountains—how do you identify that place? By looking for landmarks. It doesn't matter that an eagle is soaring over a mountain peak. ”

“ They must cater to the high-school crowd." Ann glanced nervously at the strolling people around them. "Jeff, where are we? This isn't any part of the city I've ever seen. It doesn't even look much like America." Her voice rose. "The way the women are dressed—it's not old-fashioned, just different." ”

“ When he turned to the right, a similar endless chair-lined corridor moved toward him from that direction.
"Somebody worked hard on this layout," he said to Snader. "What's it for?"
"Time travel," said Snader. "You like?" ”

“ It isn't worth the twelve grand. I wouldn't buy it for that if I could. What burns me is that, five years ago, I could have bought it for two thousand."
"If only we could go back five years." She shrugged fatalistically. "But since we can't—"
The character at the next table leaned over and spoke to them, grinning. "You like to get away? You wish to go back?" ”