Noel M. Loomis

“ Have you forgotten, sir, the words of the integrator as he connected my brain-cells. 'A helpful robot is a happy robot?'"
Stieve made a face. "You can sop up the deluge," he said dryly. "I am well aware that you are the greatest little organizer in Solar News. I am also certain that you and I don't dare go back to the year Nineteen-Thirty until the administration changes or until we can figure out a way to make things right. Well, keep your articulated fingers crossed, I'm going to see Smullen."
The director of Solar News's Time Travel Section was tough. ”

“ Smullen hated inter-time legal tangles.
Smullen reached for the Assignment Book. "You'd better dig up something to interest the Plutonians once in a while," he growled. "They're threatening to quit subscribing to the service if we don't broadcast news of more interest to them."
"How can anybody find anything they like?" asked Stieve. "They're practically out of the system."
The director eyed Stieve for a moment or two before answering.
"They're not entirely out of it," Smullen said sharply. "The planet kicks in a billion and a half a year for full telepaper coverage." ”

“ People everywhere on Earth had finally resigned themselves to taking it easy, and so Solar News was just about on the rocks when along came time-travel, and Smullen, the sharp-eyed vice-president of Solar, foresaw a chance to put Solar in the clear again. ”

“ He shook hands with Prem, and Prem was as delighted as a little puppy. He introduced Stieve to the chief, and said:
"If you will handle the microphone, sir, I will do my utmost with the scanner."
"Okay. But how long a speech is old Pain-in-the-Face going to make here?"
"I have asked him to cut it short, but he's Acting Mayor. He has his own ideas."
"Well, we'll make the best of it. What's the program?"
"Program, mister? Program?" A ten-year-old Indian thrust a program in Stieve's face. "Twenty-five cents, mister. Only got a few left. Can't tell a Spaniard from an Indian without a program." ”

“ I didn't have time to tell you before, but Medlock fixed things up for you—for us—in Nineteen-Thirty. He promised to bring the mayor into Twenty-Two-Thirty to let the Mayor watch the sky-tractor putting floors on the Liberty Tower. The Mayor will probably get his Doctor's in Sidewalk Engineering for that, sir, and he was very pleased. He said he would forgive me for everything, sir."
Stieve stared at Prem a moment and then he heaved a big, thankful sigh.
"Prem," he said, with a rush of gratefulness, "you're the best organizer on earth. You're worth a dozen androids." ”

“ Stieve said dreamily, "that maid was a very choice—hey—" He sat up straight. "If I thought you were trying to be insubordinate I'd have your thermopile checked. Anyway," he said morosely, "it's a good thing Medlock's android in charge of Time Traffic last night was a new man, or he wouldn't have let us come back ahead of schedule. And it's a good thing the Mayor is working for his degree in Sidewalk Engineering and had to leave just then to watch one of their old-fashioned bulldozers push down a brick building, or we'd be rotting right now in a cold damp cell back in Nineteen-Thirty. ”

“ In the early part of the Twenty-Third Century, war had been eliminated for so long that international affairs no longer had the deep significance they had had in the Twentieth Century. Controls were so rigid there had not been any startling development in economics or science for over a century, with the single exception of time-travel. ”

“ After all, Pluto runs the Outer Planet League, and Solar News is the biggest link between Pluto and Earth. If Pluto gets unhappy, the four outer planets may pull away from the Solar Union, and definitely that would be not good for the peace of the System."
"I'll try to dream up something," Stieve promised. He was so grateful to Smullen for letting him get out of 1930 that he would have promised to bring back the anchor of Columbus' flagship. ”

“ The real war—the war of robot bombs and atomics—was over in three days. They spent the next twenty years fighting a war of attrition, with diseases that killed ninety per cent of the population, and starvation for most of the others because the ground was impregnated with chemicals that killed plants. ”

“ That wasn't general yet, but the Time Travel people used it exclusively.
He took the air-tube to Medlock's post. Medlock was watching the clock as Stieve came in.
"Make it fast," he said. "You're due in a minute and a half."
"I hope Prem has got things organized," Stieve said as he settled into the straps.
"Don't worry," Medlock advised. "Prem always gets things organized. That's what I like about old-style robots. They have originality. These new androids are nice-looking and all, but they haven't got the brains of a sick goose." ”

“ Stieve said caustically. "Now, listen." He straightened. "Go see Medlock and take a run back to Fourteen-Ninety-Two, about the first of October. And don't make eyes at any Indian chief's daughter."
"No, sir," Orig said humbly, and arose jointedly to his full four feet three inches.
Stieve started down to Engineering to put in a beef about the quality of reproduction of color in his moving scenes. ”

“ You can fake the Three Hundred Years Ago Feature for a while. Let me go up to Twenty-Ninety-One and report the Last War. There was something. The world got in such a turmoil they even threw away all the calendars until somebody made out another one in Twenty-One-O-Five, after it was all over. ”